Trouble: Rob & Sabrina: Boxed Set Read online

  “Deeper!” I squeezed his fingers, trying to draw him in. Together we sent white streams of breath between us wafting out and disappearing into the chilly night air. I glimpsed the headlights of a car passing by on my quiet little suburban street as Rob slid his fingers as far into me as he could, his thumb still working round and round my clit.

  “Rob…” I felt a tight, swirling ache in my belly, something coiling and waiting to spring. “Don’t stop.”

  “No,” he panted, moving faster instead, the wet squelch between my legs the only sound now besides the buzz of the streetlights and the rasping of our breath. “I won’t stop. I promise.”

  And he didn’t, his hand working between my thighs as I writhed and ground my pelvis against him, arching my back, my whole body a tightening spiral of need. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against his neck as he shoved me against the door, his hand buried between my legs.

  “Close. So close…” I didn’t know if I was telling him or me, feeling the delicious, rising hum of my orgasm approaching. He pressed his fingers deep, just his thumb moving now against my clit, focusing the sensation and bringing me into it. I moaned and rocked, biting and sucking at his neck as I came, gushing around his fingers in pulsing waves.

  “Ahhh, God! Yes!”

  He held me close with one arm as I started to sink, buoying me up. My knees weakened, and the world tipped upside down. He lifted his other hand, still wet with me, to his mouth, sucking his fingers. I flushed, watching him, very aware now we were on my porch, resting against the front door.

  “My keys…” I tried to reach for them but found myself trapped. Rob stooped and handed them to me. I found my house key, pulling my skirt down and turning toward the door, head still swimming. My hands trembled, and I couldn’t seem to get the key to go into the lock. I looked at him, smiling an apology.

  “Here.” He took the key, sliding it in and turning it. I pushed the door open, taking out my keys and switching on the light. It hadn’t occurred to me the place was a mess. I turned to say something, but he filled the doorway, his eyes only on me. Shutting the door behind him, he lifted my chin and kissed me. I could smell myself, taste my juices on his lips.

  “Bedroom,” was all he said, kissing me backward. I nodded, dropping my purse and keys, slipping my jacket down and tossing it on the couch as I passed. He shrugged his jacket off and threw it over mine, following.

  There were clothes all over my bed, remnants of a night spent changing, trying to find the perfect concert-going outfit, the one that would attract Rob’s attention the most. I smiled at the pile of skirts and blouses, belts and shoes.

  I leaned in and swept them all to the floor. Turning on the bed, I looked at him. He slid off his boots and unbuttoned his shirt, looking at me sprawled on the bed.

  “Here.” I pressed my boot to the middle of his chest. He caught it in his hand. “Unzip me?”

  The boots were knee-length, the zippers long. His gaze followed both zippers down, first one, then the other, tossing the boots to join his on the floor. I admired my legs in fishnets, stretching them out and resting them on his shoulders. I knew he could see straight up my skirt, my panties askew, the material pressing between my labia.

  “You know you’re sexy as hell.” He grinned. “At least, after a few drinks, you sure know it.”

  “Quit teasing.” I nudged his shoulder with my toe, making a face.

  “Look who’s talking.” He spread my legs with his hands, gaze lingering between them. “I’ve wanted to see up that skirt all night.”

  “This skirt?” I wiggled my hips, tugging it upward.

  “Yeah,” he breathed, his hand moving over the top edge of the elastic on my black bikini panties. He pressed his hand to my belly, stroking the sensitive flesh just below my navel. I shivered and started unbuttoning my blouse.

  I didn’t remember the buttons being so small and difficult when I put it on. Rob helped me, kneeling between my thighs as he worked the buttons from the bottom up, our hands meeting in the middle. He spread my shirt open, gaze moving over the black lace of my bra, my nipples hardening, pressing against the silky material.

  “You’re like a painting.” He traced one finger between my breasts, over my belly, dipping into my navel. “I could write a song about you.”

  “That would be flattering.” I felt dreamy, seeing everything in soft-focus. “What would you call it?”

  “Siren Song.” His hand moved to undo my belt and slip my skirt over my hips and thighs. He tossed it on the floor, spreading my legs again with his hands.

  “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.” I caught his hand in mine, bringing it to my mouth and kissing his fingertips, one by one.

  “It is,” he assured me. “You’re quite irresistible.”

  He moved off me. “Roll over.”

  I obliged, letting him pull my shirt off. He unhooked my bra, his hands kneading warmth into the flesh of my back. I slipped off the straps, flinging it over the side of the bed.

  “Up.” He lifted my hips, pulling me to my knees. I let him lead me, lost in the soft kisses raining over my back and bottom. His hands roamed over my legs in the fishnets and when he pulled my panties down my thighs, I moaned, feeling completely exposed to him now.

  His breath was hot over my behind as he began to feather kisses there, moving closer and closer to my center. Wiggling toward him, I arched my back, his tongue beginning to probe between the lips of my vulva.

  “Yes!” I spread myself open, showing him. He rewarded my effort, slipping his tongue deeper into my folds. His nose pressed into the soft flesh of my perineum, his breath like velvet heat. His tongue took the same circular path his fingers had traveled over my clit when we were outside, this time an easier, softer touch.

  He tugged my panties further down, trying to work them off me. I stretched out, loathe to move away from his tongue, so he could slip them past my knees. Rolling to my back, I spread my legs, opening my slit for him with my fingers. His gaze was already there, his tongue moving across his lips as he watched me touch my clit and slide my finger into my flesh.

  “Hell, yes! Keep doing that!” He unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and threw it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor as he watched me finger myself. Bare-chested, the sight of him took my breath away. He moved around the end of the bed, stretching out next to me on his side and propping his head on his elbow so he could put his face right near the apex of my thighs and watch me.

  “Put two more fingers in,” he murmured, and I turned my head, realizing, when he reached his hand down there to adjust himself, I was face-to-face with the zipper of his jeans.

  “I don’t know if I can,” I admitted, sliding a second finger into my wetness.

  “More.” He groaned, his hand moving, rubbing over the crotch of his jeans.

  I slid another finger inside, three fingers now, moving slowly in and out.

  “Yeah! Fuck yourself like that, Sabrina.” He kissed the elastic across the top of my stocking. The sound of his words made me shiver, and I fingered myself faster.

  He grabbed my hips, and I gasped as he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him. His fingers probed me, thicker and rougher than mine, sliding into my flesh. His tongue found my clit, licking and sucking with abandon, as if he could devour me. I whimpered, wiggling on his face, resting my cheek against the seam of his jeans, feeling the throb of his cock.

  “Rob,” I whispered, moving my hips in little circles. “Oh, God, that’s so good.”

  He didn’t answer me, but he made a noise in his throat, his tongue flicking faster through my slit. I rubbed my cheek against his crotch, feeling the heat of him, and then I unsnapped his jeans and tugged his zipper down. Boxers. I smiled, reaching my hand in to find him, bent and straining against the thick denim.

  Tugging his jeans downward, I freed his cock, wrapping my hand around it. He groaned, the sensation a sweet vibration through my flesh as I began to lick the tip, working my to
ngue all around the head. His cock was thick and already wet with pre-cum. I teased the head with my lips, kissing and licking in turns, enjoying the feel of his tongue and fingers.

  I felt him slowly getting distracted, his tongue forgetting about my clit entirely as I took the full length of him into my mouth. He groaned, pressing his hips up, and I nearly gagged, easing back and using my hand around the base to stroke him as I sucked. I rolled my hips, reminding him, and his tongue found me again, fluttering over my clit and then flattening out, moving back and forth.

  “Oh, yes!” I whispered it around the head of his cock, my hand jerking him faster. His tongue rippled back and forth over my clit, a slick, wet rhythm that made me undulate against him.

  My hand stopped moving on his cock, and I just squeezed him, the tip red and swollen. He began humming, a low, swelling vibration that seared through me, his tongue playing measured beats against my clit.

  “Oh, Rob, oh my God… what are you doing?” I panted, the swell of my orgasm beginning to peak. “Oh, don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

  My hips rocked and rocked as I started to quake on top of him, the surge of my climax spreading through my pelvis and trembling my thighs.

  “Oh, oh, oh,” I whispered, over and over, my mouth pressed against his thigh.

  His tongue kept moving over my clit, but I slipped a protective hand over my mound.

  “No, no more, I can’t,” I begged him, rolling onto the bed.

  He slipped his jeans and shorts down and moved to stretch out beside me, kissing me deeply. His tongue was thick with my juices and I sucked at it, moaning. He slipped his hand between my legs, moving my hand aside and cupping my whole mound with his, rocking just a little, making me shiver.

  “You’re so beautiful.” His gaze moved over my body, lingering at my breasts. He dipped his head and licked at my hard, pink nipple. I squirmed, the sensation almost too much, post-orgasm.

  “I want you.” His eyes met mine. “I want to be inside you.”

  “Yes.” I let my knees fall fully open, my eyes still half-closed, my whole body flushed with a delicious heat.

  He moved between my legs and I took his full weight, wrapping my arms around him. Looking between us, I watched him slip his cock through my fleshy folds, up and down, searching. I lifted my hips, guiding him. He groaned and pressed his hips forward, rocking the length of his stiff cock into me.

  “Oh, Sabrina,” he whispered against my ear. “Oh, fuck!”

  “Yes!” I ground my hips into his. “Fuck me!”

  He lifted his head to meet my eyes, rolling his hips as he moved, a sweet, fluid motion. I was so wet, I felt it even on my thighs—he slid through me like butter. Slipping my arms around his neck, my eyes searching his, I lost myself in the feel of his body, his belly moving against mine.

  “Yes!” I urged him on, working under him, reveling in the wet heat of us, joined together at last. His cock throbbed as he moved into me, burying himself to the hilt and holding there, breathing hard.

  “Fuck, Sabrina…” He shook his head, eyes closed. “I can’t last long—you feel too good.”

  “It’s okay.” I ran my hands down the thick ropes of his arms. They trembled with effort. Tracing my fingers over his face, the stubble on his chin, down his neck and over his chest, I found his nipples, hard, dark pebbles, and flicked them with my thumbs.

  “Oh, damn.” He moaned, and I felt him let go as he began thrusting into me, deep and hard. His cock was steel heat and I watched him bite his lip, eyes half closed, face twisted in anticipation of the ultimate pleasure. I wanted to give it to him.

  “Come for me!” I rubbed my thumbs over his nipples and clamped onto his cock with my muscles, squeezing, milking him. He gasped, his body twisting into mine as he thrust deep one last time, and I felt him swell and surge inside of me, a dam bursting in hot, rhythmic waves. He shuddered, collapsing, and I held him close, murmuring endearments softly into his shoulder.

  “Well, if that was a game, I like how it’s played,” I said, and felt laughter rumbling through his chest.

  “You’re something.” He rolled off, throwing an arm over his forehead as he stared at the ceiling. When I looked at him, it hit me with a sudden, breathless force—I just had sex with Rob Burns! He was in my bed! I couldn’t have predicted how this night was going to end back when Katie and I were singing along to Trouble songs on the way to the arena. Never in a million years.

  “Rob?” I rolled, hooking my thigh over his. He looked far away, lost in thought, but he turned his eyes to me, searching my face.

  “How’s your head?” His fingers touched my forehead.

  I’d completely forgotten about the place where the door had hit me. I rubbed at it. It was starting to scab over. “Feels fine. I don’t know how it’s going to feel tomorrow though.”

  “You’re gonna be very hung over tomorrow, lightweight.” He chuckled, eyes bright.

  I smiled, remembering how I’d given in to the alcohol—how I’d given in to it all.

  “It’s worth it.” I rested my head on his chest. “And I didn’t even puke.”

  He laughed. “Yet.”

  “Bite your tongue!”

  “What were you going to ask me?” He stroked my hair.

  “Oh. I just wondered—” I took a deep breath and swallowed. “You mentioned calling a cab.”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “No!” I half-sat to look at him. “But… I mean… oh, I don’t know.”

  “No games. What do you want?” He traced the curve of my breast with his finger.

  “I want you to stay.”

  He nodded, his gaze lingering where his fingers moved over my flesh.

  “What do you want?” I put my hand on his belly, still wet with sweat. “No games.”

  “I’d like to stay tonight.”

  I smiled, leaning over him to turn off the light. He pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me and breathing me in, his chest swelling.

  “I never thought I would meet Trouble,” I murmured. “I still can’t believe it’s real.”

  “I’m probably more trouble than I’m worth,” he said, letting out a little laugh.

  “I doubt that,” I whispered. “Very much.”

  “Sweet Sabrina. Haven’t you heard? I’m nothing but trouble.”

  “That’s okay.” I smiled. “I’m always looking for trouble.”

  He laughed and pressed his lips to mine in the darkness.

  Chapter Six

  I was dreaming. I had to be dreaming. Rob Burns was spooned behind me, arm heavy over my ribcage, other hand tangled in a mess of my hair, snoring gently in my ear. I was afraid to open my eyes. It had to be a dream because it couldn’t possibly be real. Last night I’d dreamed about going to a concert with Katie and seeing Trouble, the best dream ever, far better than my own imagination had ever been. I had not only met Rob Burns, but I had taken him to a blues club and then back home to my place.

  But, of course, it wasn’t real.

  Behind me, Rob stirred, nuzzling his stubbly face against my neck, sending sweet shivers through me, breath warm as he pressed his lips to my ear.

  “Good morning, gorgeous.” His teeth raked my earlobe, his tongue lapping, as if he was just discovering the skin of my neck, over my shoulder.

  “Shh, I’m dreaming.”

  “Is it a good dream?”

  “The best.”

  “I bet I can make it better.” His mouth left hot, wet trails over my skin, hands roaming, moving up from my belly to cup my breast, thumbing my nipple, making me moan.

  “I don’t want to wake up.”

  “Why not?”

  I rolled toward him, my dream—my dream man. How many times had I fantasized about this? But even I knew some dreams were meant to stay dreams. Second grade elementary school teachers didn’t have rock star boyfriends. The world had rules about these things, a natural order.

  Rob moved up on his elbow, hair all mussed and sexy, ey
es on mine, questioning. The sight of him naked in my bed, the sheet only covering his lower body, gave me a glorious half-view of what I’d sampled the night before. I put a hand in the middle of his chest, feeling his heart beating, strong and steady. It grounded me, pulled me back into the world, back to reality.

  “If I wake up, you’ll disappear.” I didn’t want to appear clingy or strange, but the tears welled up in my eyes despite my good intentions. The truth was, I liked my dream far better than I liked reality. In reality, Rob was going back out on tour and I was heading back to work the next day. The first day after break was always my most hectic, the kids hopped up on sugar from sleepovers and junk food.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He moved my hair away from my face, those skilled, callused fingers brushing my cheek, cupping my chin. “At least, not today.”

  I nodded. “How long do we have?”

  “The bus leaves tomorrow.” Rob leaned in and kissed me, as if he wanted to take the sting out of that fact. And for a moment, it worked.

  His lips were so soft, his kiss taking me back to that dream world where only he and I existed, suspended between reality and fantasy, lost together. His tongue explored my mouth, gently opening me up to him again, my arms going naturally around his neck, breasts pressed up against the hard, exquisitely muscled expanse of his chest.

  “Mmm, now I think I’m dreaming.” Rob buried his face in my hair, breathing in deep. “A woman like you has to be a dream.”

  “No, we’re not dreaming.” I flushed at his compliment. “The real world is right out there.”

  I pointed at my window, the blinds closed, but the sun peeked through anyway. He sighed, tracing patterns around my navel with his finger, as if performing some ritual, drawing symbols to keep the world at bay.

  “In the real world, you’re a rock star and I’m just an elementary school teacher.”

  “You’re a teacher?”

  “See?” I laughed. “We know nothing about each other.”

  “We know enough.”

  “I know you’re married.”