was fine with her as long as he didn’t stop touching her.
As usual, he was up for the challenge. She groaned in protest when he moved away and picked up the snare drum, shifting it to his right side. The space in front of her was now open.
“Step forward,” he said when she expected him to haul her down the stairs to their bedroom. “We’re going to try something.”
Always up for one of his experiments, Melanie stepped forward.
“Can you reach the bass drum pedal now?”
She pressed her foot down on a hard pedal, and one of his bass drums thudded.
“Good,” he said. “You control how fast we go.”
She turned her head to look at him, but he pressed a hand in the center of her back and she leaned over the center drum. Was the drum under her elbows called a tom or was it just a bigger snare? She wasn’t sure, but it was probably something the wife of a drummer should know. She heard his pants unzip and the sound of fabric rustling behind her. When the tip of his cock nudged her opening, she gasped and her extended leg tensed, lightly pressing the pedal and producing another soft thud.
“That’s it,” he said, working his way deeper, retreating slightly, going deeper still, until he was buried to the root within her. “Every time you push that pedal, I’m going to thrust.”
“Oh,” she said, a hot flush burning her cheeks. So that was how she was going to control the rhythm.
“I suggest you start out slow,” he said. “Until I get the hang of this.”
His drumstick tapped against the snare to his right, sounding like a typical rock intro, and she stomped the bass pedal. Holding her hip with his left hand and doing a rather impressive one-handed drum roll with his right, he pulled out and thrust into her before retreating slowly. Oh, but she wanted him deep, so she pressed the bass pedal and true to his word, he thrust forward. The motion was a bit awkward at first, because she had to lift her foot several inches before pressing down on the pedal, but it didn’t take her long to use that motion to intensify his pleasure and her own. Soon she was thudding with a steady rhythm, twisting her hips slightly with each downbeat, and he was thrusting in time, filling the pauses with one-handed intricate stick work on the snare. Surprisingly, their drum duet even sounded good—strong and steady.
As her excitement built, so did the rate of her rhythm, until her leg cramped and she had to stop. Oh, but she wasn’t ready for him to stop as he stilled behind her.
“You okay?” he asked, his hand sliding up and down her hip.
“Leg cramp!”
“Happens to the best of us,” he said. “Here, hold my stick.”
She giggled but took the drumstick he held out in front of her and sighed in bliss when his now-free hand began to massage her smarting thigh. “That’s better,” she said.
“You know what I do when I get a cramp in my leg?”
She had no clue, because it wasn’t like he could stop playing in the middle of a song and employ a masseuse to give his leg a rub-down. “What?” she asked.
“Use the other leg.”
“Great suggestion,” she said.
“When in doubt, ask a professional.”
She’d never been with a man who could make her laugh during sex. Well, that wasn’t one hundred percent true. She’d been with one guy who’d made her crack up every time he climbed on top of her, but she’d been laughing at him, not with him. The dude wouldn’t have been able to find an erogenous zone even if flashing neon arrows pointed the way. But Gabe made sex fun. Intimate too. And she couldn’t imagine them ever getting bored inside the bedroom or out. She had a lifetime to look forward to with him.
“Okay,” she said. “I can continue now.”
She bent her arm back to hand him his drumstick, and he tapped out a rhythm on the rim of his snare.
“From the top now.”
And she was giggling again, but she lifted her opposite foot and stopped on a different pedal. The thud it produced was slightly lower in pitch than the original drum. She began to experiment with all three pedals, switching between legs as necessary and working the hard, thrusting cock inside her until she shattered into a million pieces of pure satisfaction. She clung to the drum in front of her and rocked back into Gabe, encouraging him to pound into her as she cried out in bliss. He tossed the drumstick aside and grasped both of her hips, giving her the deep, hard thrusts she craved. Within seconds she pulled him over the edge with her as they moved together to find a few more seconds of ecstasy.
Her legs went all wobbly, and he had to draw her back solidly against his chest to keep her from toppling forward into the drum kit.
The only problem she could see with these adventuresome sexual encounters was that there was never a bed handy for her to collapse upon once they finished.
“So,” Gabe said, kissing her shoulder, “it turns out Force can drum and fuck at the same time, but only with able assistance.”
She laughed, loving him a little more with each passing moment. “That was fun,” she said, “but I really need to lie down. Is it possible to put a bed in every room of the house?”
“We could limit ourselves to the bedroom.”
The sound of his low voice near her ear made her already tantalized nerve endings throb in delight.
“Why would we want to do that?”
He chuckled. “We wouldn’t.”
He pulled out and traces of their joining trickled down her thigh. She didn’t mind until he directed her to his drummer’s stool.
“Rest here for a minute.”
“I’ll get cum all over your seat,” she protested.
“I honestly don’t care,” he said with an ornery smirk.
Looking up at him, she was reminded that he’d shaved his head and looked every inch the hardcore metal drummer. “I thought you were going to let your hair grow out,” she said.
“Momentary lapse of judgment,” he said, running a hand over the smooth skin tattooed with a wicked-looking dragon tribal design.
“For the record, you look sexy that way,” she said, and licked her lips.
He knelt between her knees and stared up into her eyes. “Don’t tell me you get the hots for rock stars now.”
“Just you,” she said, resting her arms on his shoulders and linking her hands behind his neck.
“Let’s keep it that way.”
The sound of the front door creaking open was followed by happy-dog whimpering and the excited scrape of dog nails across the floor.
“Honeys, I’m home,” Nikki called into the house.
Melanie’s eyes widened, and she dropped down off the stool, unsure if she was visible through the loft railing from the ground floor. She crawled toward her discarded underwear and lay flat on the floor to pull them on. Her first stop would be the bathroom as soon as she was decent enough to face her friend. She needed to clean up as well as take a whiz on a pregnancy test stick.
“Where are you guys?” Nikki’s voice carried from down below. “Are you two going at it on the Sex Stallion again? Now is not the time to make more changes to the design, you know.”
“No,” Gabe called, his pants securely in place. He leaned up against the railing and peered down into the great room below. “We were up here playing drums.”
“Oh, really?” Nikki said, her footsteps approaching the bottom of the wooden staircase. “Sorry I missed it.”
“We were also fucking, so you weren’t invited,” Gabe said.
“Gabe!” Melanie hissed, squirming into her pants. Nikki hadn’t had sex in almost a month, so they tried not to talk about it in front of her.
“Sorry I missed that too,” Nikki said, her voice now even with the floor where Melanie was busy fastening her jeans.
Melanie rolled over and still lying on the floor, smiled at Nikki. “Did you find a dress for the party?”