Page 83 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

I found her in the laundry room, in a sweet sundress, bending over to pull clothes out of the dryer. And I had to have her. Stepping up behind her, I grabbed her hips and pulled her back against me rhythmically, letting her know my intentions.

She laughingly glanced back at me over one shoulder, but when she saw the intensity of the fire burning in my eyes, her smile faded as an answering flame ignited in her eyes.

Glancing briefly around, I said gruffly, “We haven’t christened this room.”

Her voice came up breathy as she responded, “No, not yet.”

My broad hands wrapped around her waist, and I easily lifted her onto the top of the dryer. Pushing the newly folded clothes out of my way. The smell of the freshly laundered items filled the room as I stepped closer, spreading her legs.

My searching hands reached beneath her skirt to find her warmth. As my fingers trailed over the crotch of her panties, they dampened.

“Damn, Cupcake. You’re already wet for me,” I murmured approvingly.

Slipping a probing finger behind the satin, I deftly delved between her slick folds. She shivered in my arms as I pushed in, knuckle deep.

“You like that, baby?” I whispered gruffly against her ear as I started to work her, priming her for my entrance.

She silently nodded her head, unable to speak, her eyes fluttering shut as she focused on my expert fingers. I strummed her like a guitar, and she was equally responsive, letting out a soft whimper as I brought her to the edge of her passion. But just as she was ready to crest, I’d back off. Just to do it all over again until she was strung tight like a guitar string.

“Sam–” she said, her voice urgent, and when I ignored her plea, her hands tightened in my hair, and she lifted her legs, wrapping them around me, pulling me closer, urging me on.

Finally giving in, I allowed her to climax. And she came on my fingers hard. Waiting until she was through and limp in my arms, only then did I unzip my pants, freeing my rock-hard erection.

I pulled her hips closer to the edge of the smooth surface of the dryer and surged into her, my hands holding her in place. She was at the perfect angle for me to take her. And take her I did, as I repeatedly plunged into her warm depths. Not stopping until we both shouted out our completion. She slumped against my chest as we both recovered–

I’m snapped out of my remembrance as a firm slap lands on my shoulder. “Hey, Sam. You ready for tonight?” It’s Luke, with a shit-eating grin on his face. “The seats are already filling up. You can feel the crowd’s energy already.”

Blinking at the abrupt interruption of my thoughts, I grimace. “Yeah, man, I’m totally ready.”

As Luke walks away to check on his keyboard, I finally notice the murmur of noise as the audience finds their seat. I glance down at the instrument in my hands. I need to find my focus, but as much as I try, my mind keeps circling back to Emily.

Shaking my head to help clear my thoughts, I let my fingers drift over the strings, but it’s not my usual sound. It’s a melody,a sound softer than I intended. It’s not part of the setlist—it’s something new, something different. And at that moment, I realize it’s her. Every note, every chord, it’s all her.

How she looked at me after we made love made me feel like she trusted me. Like I could be the man she needs me to be.

The thought tightens something in my chest. I’ve never been good at this—at being vulnerable, at letting someone in. But with Emily, it doesn’t feel like a choice. It feels inevitable.

With a frustrated sigh, I set the bass guitar aside and rake a hand through my hair. I need to get my head in the game.

The performance that night is electric. The crowd is on fire, their energy feeding into every note and lyric. Cass commands the stage with his usual charisma, and the band stays with him, caught up in his tireless momentum.

By the time the encore ends, the adrenaline coursing through me, and the crowd’s cheers still echo in my ears.

As we head backstage, I make my way over to Emily, who’s already coordinating the load-out process with the crew.

“Another flawless show,” I say with relief, leaning in close so only she can hear.

She smiles, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Let’s hope the rest of the tour goes this smoothly.”

Emily is a blur of efficiency as she coordinates the equipment breakdown with the venue staff. She’s in her element, and I can’t help but watch her with a mix of admiration and pride.

But my admiration quickly turns to anger when I overhear a conversation near the back of the stage.

“She only got this job because her brother’s the lead singer,” a voice sneers.

I glance up, my eyes narrowing as I spot one of the newer crew members leaning against a stack of amps, talking to another guy.

“And because she’s married to Sam Ryder,” the other guy adds with a smirk. “Probably figured marrying into the band would secure her a paycheck.”

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