Loving the Sinner Bonus Scene
ELLI
5 years later…
The energy from the crowd is palpable, even from my spot in the green room. A smile pulls at my lips as I watch Wes on the screen, his mouth parted in disbelief.
You’d think he’d be used to the sold out shows, hordes of adoring fans, and begging for one more song by now, but my husband still can’t believe his dreams are coming true.
He may not believe it, but I can. He’s worked his ass off for this and if anyone deserves the success, it’s Wes Jones. All of the late nights spent plucking at his guitar, lyrics jotted down in the middle of the grocery store, and hours spent on planes and buses to make it to gigs and interviews.
After touring with Keely’s band as their opening act, things progressed quickly in his career. Wes was no longer simply recording short snippets of songs for social media and playing small shows at local bars.
Instead, he was signing recording contracts and being invited to sing at larger festivals. His social media following tripled seemingly overnight, and his songs started hitting music charts, steadily climbing until he was in the top ten. Brand deals have been thrown his way, and he’s had the opportunity to record with some big names.
Through it all, Wes has remained the same, save for the the confidence slowly increasing.
Right before his first tour as the headliner, I quit my job at the law firm to work with Wes’ team. I handle most of his personal relations, interview team members and bandmates, and do research on the latest up-and-coming bands and musicians for Wes to work with.
I was hesitant to work so close with him, worried that it would ruin our relationship, but Wes was adamant that it had to be me. He insisted that it wouldn’t change anything, and so far he’s been right.
“Denver, you have been the best crowd. I have time for just one more song before the night ends. This is a song from my next album, so let me know if you like it,” Wes’ voice rasps through the speakers right before the familiar chords of Wes’ upcoming lead single, Love of a Sinner reverberate through the room.
I try not to pick favorites because every song Wes writes is beautiful and perfect, and Lovebug will always hold a special place in my heart, but this song?
I think it’s his best one yet.
It’s a sexy, intimate ballad that makes me think of sweaty limbs tangled together on silky sheets. The tone of his voice is pure sex, and the low thrum of arousal I get every time he performs turns into an overwhelming need.
I squirm on the leather couch I’m sitting on, grateful that no one else is in here to see me squeeze my thighs together.
With every strum of the guitar, every raspy note, and every flex of his arms as he plucks strings effortlessly, my lust amps higher. By the time applause erupts through the arena, my panties are damp. Wes thanks the crowd again, then the band, the stagehands, and the staff of the arena before he says a final goodbye and walks off the stage.
It takes three minutes to get from his spot on the stage to the greenroom, and that’s if no one stops him.
Six agonizing minutes later, the door opens and my heart rate picks up as Wes stands in the doorway, sweat glistening on his forehead from the lights and his arms crossed.
“Well, who do we have here?” He murmurs, his eyes roaming appreciatively over me, a glint in his eyes.
A shudder rolls through me as I realize what’s about to happen.
It’s play time.
Sometimes, after a performance, Wes likes to roleplay, and tonight is my lucky night. The first phrase he says is usually a clue as to what scene we’re creating, and tonight it looks like I’m his number one fan.
Not a hard thing to pretend.
I bite my lip, trying to contain my giddy smile. “I’m Elli.”
Wes steps further inside the room and closes the door. The click of the lock nearly sends a shiver down my spine. “Elli,” he repeats slowly. “When they told me my biggest fan was waiting for me in the dressing room, I never imagined it would be someone so… gorgeous.”
My face flushes at the compliment. “Thank you.”
Wes saunters across the room, his hands flexing at his sides, and I can tell he’s trying his best to keep himself from grabbing me. He sits on the couch next to me, tossing an arm behind me without touching me, but I feel the heat from his skin. I know the wait will pay off, but I want him to touch me now.
“Did you enjoy the show, Elli?”
“Yes, I always do.” I don’t even have to make up an answer. Watching Wes perform is my favorite. “I could listen to you sing all day.”
Wes’ lips tilt in a smirk. “Thank you. That’s high praise coming from someone so lovely. I’m curious about something, Elli. How did you end up in my dressing room?”
“I-I won a contest. They had some trivia questions about you and I got all of them right. My prize was getting a private meet and greet, and an autograph. I was hoping to get your signature tattooed on me.”
Wes’ eyes flare at the insinuation of marking me. We haven’t played out this particular scenario, but I was hoping it would appeal to him. A quick glance at his crotch shows the prominent outline of his cock against the tight fabric of his jeans.
“Oh, yeah? I think I can do that.” He turns and grabs a sharpie off the side table behind him, uncapping it with his teeth and wiggling it in the air. “Where do you want it?”
If this were real, I would never be so bold, but this is a fantasy—a fun game for my husband and I to play—so I pull down the front of my dress until the fabric of the bodice barely covers my nipple and tap the top part of my boob, right over my heart. “Here.”
“You’re going to sully your pretty tits with my signature?”
“I want everyone to see it. I want everyone to know I’m your biggest fan.”
“Fuck,” he whispers, “I can’t say no to that, can I?” He leans over me, gently bracing one hand on the base of my throat while he slowly pens his name into my skin. Every scrape of the marker makes me want to whimper, my nipples hardening behind my dress. I’ve seen him sign autographs in less than five seconds, but he’s taking his sweet time with this one, making sure every letter is perfect.
When he’s done, he tosses the uncapped marker somewhere on the floor and gently blows over the ink so it dries. He looks up at me through his lashes, his hand still on my throat.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers. “Can I kiss you, Elli?”
“Yes.”
I barely get the word out before his hand moves up and around my neck, cradling the back of my head. Our kiss isn’t slow or sweet, it’s frantic and messy and toe curling.
His teeth nip at my bottom lip before his tongue soothes the sting and a moan breaks free from my throat, spurring him on. Our tongues clash and dance as one of Wes’ hands tangles in my hair and the other wraps around my middle, pulling me closer to him.
He shifts, sitting back against the couch and pulling me with him until I’m straddling his lap, the skirt of my dress rucking up around my waist.
Wes breaks the kiss, his gaze trailing down my body and honing in on where my panties are exposed, wet and sticking to the lips of my pussy.
“Elli, baby, you’re soaked. You get this turned on from some kissing?” Wes teases as his thumbs rub against the top of my thigh. Close, yet so far from where I want them.
“I’ve been wet since the last half of your set,” I answer honestly.
“Poor thing. Can I take care of you, baby? Let me give your pussy the attention she deserves..”
“Do you do that for all your biggest fans?” I ask, still playing the game.
“You’re the first.” He kisses me again, softly this time, as his thumbs trace the edge of my panties. “And hopefully the only.”
His thumb meets my clit over my panties with expert precision, applying the slightest bit of pressure. Enough to have my hips rolling on his lap, but not enough to get me where I need to go.
“Touch me, please,” I whimper.
“I am touching you.”
“I need more.”
Wes’s lips meet my jaw and he presses kisses up my cheek until his lips are at my ear. “What do you need, baby? You need my fingers in this needy pussy? My tongue? Or should I stuff you full of my cock? Then you can say you rode the dick of your favorite rockstar.”
My hips roll again, seeking friction. Fuck, but I love how dirty his mouth is.
“Yes. All of it. Any of it—” I get cut off by Wes roughly tugging my panties to the side and working two fingers inside me, curling them to find that tender spot.
“Look at you, Elli, riding the fingers of a man you just met. Soaking the hand I strum my guitar with. Does that feel good, baby?” Wes pumps his fingers in a steady rhythm, his thumb rolling over my clit at the same time.
“Feels so good,” I gasp, clenching around his fingers.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. Are you going to come for me? I can feel you getting close.”
I nod, unable to speak through the pleasure barrelling through me. Wes has learned my body so thoroughly, he knows exactly how to wring an orgasm from me in minutes. With a few final pumps of his fingers and circles on my clit, I shatter with a cry of his name. He works me through the aftershocks, and when I’ve stopped pulsing around him, he pulls his fingers from me and flips us so he’s hovering over me.
“Can I fuck you, baby?”
“Yes.” My hands go to his belt and swiftly unbuckle it before I undo the button on his pants and pull down the zipper.
Wes chuckles, “Someone’s eager. Slow down, Elli. I want to take my time with you. Oh, shit, I don’t have a condom.”
I nearly smile. We haven’t had to use condoms in years, but he loves this part.
I play my role, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I’m on birth control and I haven’t slept with anyone in six years.”
Wes curses, standing briefly to pull down his pants and underwear before he’s yanking off my panties and hovering over me again. “You want me to fuck you bare, Elli?”
“Yes please. If it’s only one time, I don’t want there to be a barrier between us.”
Wes nestles his hips between my thighs and notches the head of his cock in my entrance, but doesn’t move.
“Look at me while I slide inside you for the first time,” he commands.
My eyes meet his as he thrusts inside me in one go. We moan in unison when he’s fully seated.
“Goddamn, baby. Your pussy feels so good. Like you were made just for me. Never felt anything better.”
He gives a few shallow thrusts, but I can tell by the tension in his jaw he’s holding back.
“Fuck me hard, Wes. I can take it.”
Wes smirks, “I know you can, baby. You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you? Be a good girl and come on your favorite musician’s cock.”
Wes pulls out and slams back in, causing my eyes to roll back in my head. The angle he’s hitting causes the head of him to rub my g-spot with every thrust and his pubic hair scrapes against my sensitive bundle of nerves.
On a particularly hard thrust, I clench around him and Wes’ hips stutter as he groans.
“Fuck. You’re going to make me come too fast, baby, then it’ll be over. I don’t want it to end yet. I want to stay in this pussy forever. Best I’ve ever had. Never going to get enough of you. Might just need to tie you to my bed and keep you with me the rest of the tour.”
I clench around him again and he chuckles, “Oh, you like that idea, don’t you? You want to be my good little groupie? Let me fuck this pussy every day? Keep you nice and full of my cum? Fuck, your pussy would look so pretty, all swollen and dripping with me. With my name on your tits and my cum inside you, everyone would know you’re mine.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” I love it when he gets possessive like this.
“Come for me, Elli. Come on my cock so I can fill you with my cum. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Wes, fuck.” My orgasm crashes through me so fast and so powerfully, I’m worried the entire arena can hear my moans.
Wes picks up speed, chasing his own orgasm, and I feel his cock swell right before he spills inside me, painting my walls, marking me as his.
“Take it all, baby. It’s yours. I’m yours. Fuck, I love you so much.” Wes moans, ending our little roleplay.
He collapses on top of me, his head landing in the crook of my neck as he catches his breath. I run my fingers up his back, chuckling when I realize his shirt is still on.
“I love you too, by the way,” I whisper, placing a kiss on his cheek.
Wes brings his head up and gives me a sleepy smile. “Hi, baby. Did you enjoy the show?”
“It was amazing, as usual. They loved your new song.”
“So did you, if your soaked panties were any indication.”
I smack his shoulder gently. “Sue me for being turned on by my husband.”
Wes pulls out of me and grabs my panties, helping me slide them on and up over my legs. “Now you get to go to dinner with wet panties and my cum leaking out of you.”
“You’re not going to let me clean up?”
“Hell no. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m wearing your wedding ring. Everyone already knows I’m yours.”
Wes leans down and gives me a quick peck. “And they know I’m yours. But we’ve got to get a move on if we want to ride with the rest of the crew.”
Wes pulls his pants back on while I walk to the mirror and straighten out my dress and make sure my hair and makeup look presentable. I look freshly fucked, and Wes’ signature peeks out the top of my neckline.
Everyone is going to know why we’re late, and I can’t find it in me to care.
Before we exit the greenroom, Wes grabs me gently by the wrist and turns me around, cupping my face.
“Hey, are you going to be okay while we’re in Utah? You can fly to the next stop if you don’t want to be there.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. It’ll be good to see Hannah and Talmage, and I’ll have you.”
I haven’t talked to my parents in five years. They missed our wedding. They missed Izzy’s wedding and her college graduation. They’ve all but cut me off. I’ve worked through it with a therapist, and most of the time I’m okay, but a small part of me still hopes they’ll come around.
Every time we go back to Utah, it’s bittersweet. I love seeing my cousins, and I’ve grown closer to them over the last few years, but knowing I’ll be less than an hour away from my parents and they still won’t make an effort stings.
Wes is always extra gentle with me when we’re there, and he always has some surprise waiting for me. Sometimes it’s something as simple as having my favorite food brought backstage. Sometimes he flies Robin or Izzy in so I’m not alone backstage. Last year, we spent an extra day in Utah so he could take me to a tattoo artist I’ve been raving about and we got matching lovebug tattoos.
I’m excited to see what surprise he has in store this time.
“You’ll have me forever, baby. I love you so much, Elliana Louise Jones.”
“I love you too, Westly Ray Jones.”
