by R. C. Martin
“You do realize you’re being ridiculous, right? Violet’s here all the time.”
“Violet shares a bed with JJ,” she spits out, pointing a finger in the direction of his room.
I shake my head, totally confused how that makes any difference. “Baby, I don’t know what the big deal is. It’s Alex. She’s one of us.”
“I don’t care,” she mutters, pushing my hands off of her. “If she’s here, you’re staying with me. You’re mine.”
“Whoa, what?” I ask, catching her around the waist before she gets two steps away from me. “What the fuck is that about? Alex is with Adrian, remember? She’s not going to make a play for anyone in the house. Not to mention, nobody messes with the church mouse. Band rule.”
“I don’t care about your stupid rules!” she erupts, shoving at my chest. She catches me by surprise, and I take a step back as she yells, “I said I don’t like it!”
“Millie—”
I hardly get her name out before she bursts into tears. I stand stunned, watching as she crumbles right before my eyes. She covers her face with her hands as her tears fall, her shoulders shaking with her sob. This morning, when Alex was crying on our couch, feeling desperate and frustrated, I never imagined that agreeing to let her move in would lead to this—my girl, crying in front of me, feeling desperate and frustrated. I don’t understand it, but I know I have to fix it.
“Hey,” I say softly, running a hand over her hair before taking hold of the back of her neck. “Millicent…”
“Sage,” she cries, dropping her hands only to wrap her arms around me. She buries her face in my neck as she sobs, “My father—my father is in town. He came to my office today. He—he’s here.”
Every muscle in my body locks up as I crush her against me. I have to replay her words in my head a couple times before it really sinks in. Her dad—her dad who left her when she was just a kid—he’s here. In an instant, it clicks that the fit she just threw over Alex, it didn’t have shit to do with Alex. My girl has seen a fucking ghost.
“Jesus, doll face—you lead with that shit, baby,” I mutter, pulling her even closer. “What happened? What’s he doing here?”
She shakes her head, signaling that she’s not ready to talk about it. Instead, she whimpers, “Will you just come home with me? Please?”
“Yeah, doll,” I reply without a hint of hesitation. She draws in a calming breath, pulling away from me with a nod. When she heads toward the bed, straightening out the clothes in my duffel, I stop her, reaching for her hand. She looks at me with her pretty, haunted eyes—there are demons in those eyes—and I tug her toward me. “Forget the bag. I’ll come back for it later. Let’s get out of here.”
She nods once more and I reach up to dry her cheeks, kissing her lips softly before I tuck her underneath my arm. I grab my coat, and we’re out the door.
SAGE AND I HAVE grilled cheese for dinner. He makes it for me while I change out of my work clothes, ridding myself of my undergarments before slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. By the time I’ve washed my face and run a brush through my hair, I feel a little less frazzled. Nevertheless, Sage doesn’t push me to talk while we eat. Instead, he gives me the space and the time to gather myself.
The meltdown I had in his bedroom earlier couldn’t be stopped. I had been gripping my emotions in a tight fist all day. When I walked into that house, I didn’t have the strength to hold on anymore. I needed to cry; but something tells me that I’m not done yet. I know that when I confide in Sage, my guard will be down again. He does that to me—he makes me feel safe, allowing me to be exactly who I am without my defenses up. He has my heart. He provokes my vulnerability.
When we’re finished eating, he takes our plates to the kitchen without a word. He returns a moment later, reaching for my hand. I slide my fingers between his and he leads me to my room, shutting out lights as we go, Maestro on our heels. After he closes the door, he turns on my bedside lamps and then flicks off the overhead light.
“In the bed, baby,” he tells me as he toes his way out of his boots.
I don’t question him. I turn down the covers and slip between the sheets, watching as he strips down to his boxers. His naked torso isn’t new by any stretch of the imagination, but I admire him anyway—my eyes devouring the defined muscles of his chest and his sculpted arms. My gaze roams over the artwork that spans across his pectorals—the cassette tape with uncoiled ribbon that turns into the jack for the headphones inked in the middle of his sternum; the sound of music is depicted by two EKG lines that span the space between each headphone, continuing on the other side until just over his heart, where the lines turn into script. Each of his sisters’ names are inked over his heart.
On his right side, he’s got lyrics across his ribs underneath his arm. Down the length of his left side, he’s got an image of sheet music that appears to be under his skin. The same technique was used on the inside of his forearm where he’s got the keys of a piano—his very first tattoo. Then, on the front of his arm is a guitar propped up against an amp, the strings of the guitar turning into a music staff that wraps around his arm and coils around an old school microphone that stands out stunningly against his upper arm, just below his shoulder.
I’ve tasted every inch of artwork on him, including the mountain-scape that spans across the length of his shoulders on his back. While I can’t see myself ever getting a tattoo, I love his. I love the way they tell his story—how they speak of who he is.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, climbing into the bed with me. He sits on my right side, tucking me against him, wrapping his inked arm around me. I reach my hand out and trail my fingers down his right arm, void of any markings.
“Why don’t you have any tattoos on your right arm?” I ask softly.
“I guess you could say I’m saving it.”
I tilt my head back so that I can see into his eyes as I ask, “For what?”
“I don’t know,” he replies with a little shrug. “Life. I’ve got a lot left to live. Needed to live a little to find the inspiration for more ink. I’ll know what to get next when it hits me. Just have to be patient. Can’t erase that shit.”
“True,” I whisper, resting my cheek on his chest.
“Doll face?” he mutters, pressing his lips against my hair.
I know what he wants. I know it’s time to tell him what happened today. I’ve stalled for as long as I can. Now, I have to face the truth—the truth that my father is a coward who didn’t fight for me; didn’t care for me; didn’t love me. I thought about it all afternoon, about what he said. I thought about the lies he must have told his wife before my mother unveiled the truth. I thought about his reasons for staying away and how incredibly selfish he was—then and now. As the day wore on, my thoughts consumed by him, my indifference morphed into distaste. He wasn’t anyone to me before, just the man who left once upon a time. Now, he’s the father that I don’t like.
I tell Sage everything, leaving out not a single detail. When my tears come back in full force, he holds me lovingly, saying nothing as he lets me get it all out. I feel better after a few minutes, his arms reminding me that I’m not alone. I’m comforted knowing that I’m home, wrapped in the embrace of my dreamer. What I have with him is something that I’ve never had before, and I cling to it—I cling to us.
“He sounds like a prick,” Sage mutters after I’ve calmed down. “What do you want to do? Are you going to call him?”
“He didn’t really give me much of a choice. He won’t leave without seeing me again.”
“Okay. Then call him. We’ll do it on our terms.”
“What?” I murmur in surprise, pulling away from him as I sit up to look into his face.
“He cornered you today, he’s not cornering you again. You held your own; my girl’s strong, but you’ve been through enough hell. I’m sick of this shit—I want you back to happy, and that starts with dealing with him and getting him out of here. So we do
it on our terms. Dinner. Wednesday night. I’m coming with.”
“You are?” I breathe.
“Yeah, baby, I am.”
I draw in a deep breath, relief freeing me of the ache I’ve carried in my chest all day. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I don’t know what might come out of another conversation with my father—I don’t even know if I want to have another conversation with him. There’s so much that I’m completely unsure of, this whole day filled with more than I can process in one sitting. But Sage…
“You make everything better,” I say, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I don’t know how I would have handled any of this without you. My mother—my father—I just—”
“Don’t even worry about it,” he tells me, leaning in to kiss my lips. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, kissing me once more. “I’m here now. You don’t have to go it alone.”
I seal my eyes closed tight, buoyed by his compassion and generosity. I kiss him hard, circling my arms around his neck. He amazes me every day. I don’t know how life brought us together. I feel so unworthy of all that he has to give—but worthy or not, I’m not letting go.
“I love you so much,” I mumble into his mouth.
“Feels good to hear you say it, baby,” he replies before thrusting his tongue between my lips.
Wishing to be closer, I shift positions, straddling his lap. He grunts, his hands gripping my hips in earnest. I kiss him deeper, sighing when I feel him grow hard beneath me. Now, I don’t want to think about my day any longer. I don’t want to think about anything. I want to get lost in this moment—lost in Sage.
I grind down against him, letting my body do the talking. He hears me loud and clear, and the next thing I know, his hand is in my pants, his fingers tracing over my slick entrance.
“Fuck, I love how fast you get wet for me,” he mutters before pushing a two fingers inside of me.
“My body is yours,” I say on a moan, riding his hand.
He grins at me, then dips his head, kissing my neck as he continues to work me up. The feel of his tongue against my throat spurs me on, and I want more. I grind down over him harder and he chuckles, sucking on my earlobe before his whispers, “Does my girl need my dick?”
“Yes—please, yes.”
He pulls his hand out of my pants and immediately tugs my shirt over my head. He then holds my waist, flipping me over so that I’m on my back. I don’t resist him in the slightest. I am his ragdoll to do with as he pleases.
He tosses his glasses onto my nightstand as I start to wiggle out of my pants. I get them to my knees before he takes over, freeing my legs and tossing the sweats on the floor. His boxers are next—then he’s on his knees, hooking his arms beneath mine. He pulls me closer, my hips lifted off the bed as he sinks his long, hard dick inside of me. I moan at his intrusion, savoring every bit of him.
As he thrusts in and out of me, his grin returns. The sight of his smile fills me with an abundant amount of contentment, and I can’t help but smile back.
“God, this pussy—I can’t get enough.”
“I’m yours when you want me, Sage,” I promise, repeating the words he promised me months ago.
“Fuck, yes,” he grunts.
He wraps my legs around him and I lock my ankles behind his back as he leans over me, propping himself up with one hand against the bed, his other grabbing a palm full of my ass. He fucks me faster, the friction wet, warm, and marvelous. Our breathing grows heavy as we surrender to our desire, our bodies helping us escape the world that’s just outside the door. He claps his hand against the side of my ass, sending a ripple of pleasure up my spine. I arch my back, reaching for my aching breasts.
“Hell, yeah, baby doll—play with those nipples.”
I do as he says, staring into his eyes as I obey. He looks so hungry for me that I can barely contain myself. He’s so fucking sexy. I pinch my nipples hard, seeking to remind myself that this is real—he is mine. The more I touch myself, the closer I get to finding my release.
“Harder, baby,” I plead.
“Shit—you’re so tight, doll. You gonna come for me?” he asks, driving into me harder, just the way that I need.
“Yes,” I answer, tweaking my nipples some more. “Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop, Sage!”
He doesn’t.
I cry out as my orgasm crashes through me. I reach down to rub my swollen clit, wishing to make the sensation last as he continues to pump in and out of me. When I start to come down from the high of my release, I unlock my legs from behind his back and push on his chest a little. He leans away from me, sitting on his haunches, and I sit up to kiss his lips.
“Lay down, baby. I want a taste,” I insist, my voice low and sultry.
I don’t have to tell him twice. He stretches out across the bed, his dick standing to attention just for me. I position myself between his legs, swallowing him up without a hint of hesitation. I suck away the taste of my arousal, leaving nothing but the tangy, manly taste that is Sage. I hum around his cock, my head bobbing, my fist pumping, my pussy throbbing with the memory of him filling my core.
He fists his hands in my hair, groaning with pleasure as I continue my ministrations.
God, how I love the sounds he makes when I suck him off.
“Jesus, Millie—I’m gonna come.”
I suck harder and he bucks his hips, the head of his dick hitting the back of my throat. He grunts, pulling at my hair, and then he swells and ejaculates inside of my mouth. I swallow every last drop of his climax, licking him clean before I crawl up his body, propping myself against his chest.
“Hands down, dick up, the best fucking lay, baby doll—every goddamn time.”
I chuckle, pressing my lips against his, and he locks me in his arms, prying my mouth open with his tongue. I can tell, with just this kiss, that he’s not done with me yet. Not even close.
“THAT WAS GOOD, guys,” says Tank, his voice coming through our headphones. “You got one more in you?” he asks us.
We’ve been working this song for almost an hour, playing it over and over. Some takes sound exactly the same to my ears, but we all trust Tank. If he’s asking us to do it again, we’ll fucking do it again.
I look over my shoulder at the rest of the band, all of which offer Tank some sort of signal indicating that we could do this all day. I toss him a chin lift myself, reaching for a bottle of water to coat my throat before we hit the song again. Just before we get ready to start, I watch as Stefany rushes into the room with Tank, talking fast. He nods at her and then she’s gone, only to appear in the room with us.
“I’ve got news, boys and girl—sorry to interrupt. Although, not really, because you’re going to fucking love what I have to tell you.”
I slide my headphones down around my neck, folding my arms across my chest as I wait for her announcement. She bounces on her toes, and a small smile tugs at my lips. That’s her tell. She’s got something big in the works.
“What’s cookin’, babe?” asks Maddox.
“I just got off the phone with Greg. He’s listened to the tracks you laid down last week and decided that he wants to release You and Me as your single.”
“We still have eight more songs he hasn’t heard,” says JJ.
“That’s okay. Trust me. Trust him. Trust his ear—the song is great; it’s the perfect length, it’s catchy, it’s upbeat, and it showcases your sound just enough to offer an enticing tease.”
Her reply must satisfy JJ, for he simply nods in response.
“But that’s not all. He wants to put this single out there with everything we’ve got. We’re talking radio, Apple music, iTunes, Spotify, Amazon and—” She pauses for dramatic effect. “We’re shooting a video.”
“For real?” asks Knox, sounding about as astonished as I feel.
“I shit you not,” Stefany replies with a grin. “It won’t be anything crazy fancy. What we want to do is get a camera in here—in the studio. We want to do this candid. We’ll keep it sim
ple. It’ll be a way to introduce your faces to the world along side the single. We’ll slap that thing on YouTube and watch it spread. Videos are easy to share all over social media. Hopefully, you guys will catch like wildfire.”
“Hell, yeah. That’s what’s up,” says Maddox.
We all pipe in our agreement, earning us a laugh from Stefany.
“Told you you’d love my news. Now, get back to work,” she says with a wink, backing her way toward the door. “I’ll have more details for you later.”
Excitement now filling the room with a new energy, we do exactly as she commands and get back to work. After we’ve played through our current song, we get two thumbs up from Tank before we dive into our next track. We work for another hour and then he says we’ve earned ourselves a little break.
As I make my way to the lobby, I pull out my phone, thinking about Millie. By the time we went to bed last night, I’m certain her dad wasn’t at the forefront of her mind; but when we got up this morning, I could tell that she was in her head. I let her be, knowing that calling her dad to set up a meeting wasn’t going to be easy. Now, as I hit the call button, I hope she’s doing all right.
“Hello?” she answers on the second ring.
“Hey, doll. What’s up?”
“I actually just got back to my desk. My office hours start in a few minutes. Are you guys done?”
“Not yet,” I reply, leaning against the wall. “We’re just taking a breather. Got some exciting news, though. I’ll fill you in tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Did you call your dad?”
She inhales deeply and blows out a sigh before she says, “Yeah. I did.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay. Um—I told him I wanted to have dinner a Giuseppe’s.”
I lift my eyebrows in surprise. “Are you sure about that?”
“I know that you don’t like to go there, but your family will probably be there and…”
Her voice trails off, as if she’s apprehensive about giving voice to her reasons. But I don’t need to hear more. “It’s perfect,” I tell her, suddenly bursting with pride. “You’re one of us, baby.”
