Too Good at Goodbyes

by RC Boldt

  Simone smiles, and as soon as she plays the first three notes of the song ‘Without You,’ the fans’ reaction is near deafening.

  I remember when I first saw you

  Your eyes met mine and I had to say hello

  Little did I know

  You would show me a love so true

  I couldn’t imagine my life

  Without you

  With the piano as her only accompaniment, Simone sings. Her fans quickly join in, and it’s a challenge to keep my attention focused on all the security aspects instead of the captivating woman on stage, commanding the attention of thousands of fans with her mere presence.

  Hours later, Simone ends her concert with ‘Build Me Up’ and the message, “Please find it in your hearts to be kinder to others and yourself. Build up. Don’t tear down.” With a wave and a huge smile, she leaves the stage amidst roaring cheers.

  When she approaches, prepared for me to escort her to her dressing room like usual, it takes everything in my power to school my expression. To not allow my eyes to drink in the sight of her relaxed and happy, body damp with sweat from exertion and the heat emitted by the stage lights.

  Instead, I offer a curt nod and guide her to the room while studiously canvassing our surroundings. After ensuring the dressing room is still secure, I move aside for her to enter. She steps through, and when I grasp the handle to pull the door closed, her voice stops me.

  “Mr. Windham?”

  “Ma’am?”

  Her brusque tone is at odds with the barely banked heat in her eyes. “I need to speak with you for a moment, please.”

  We’ve been keeping things strictly behind closed doors, but it seems she wants to change things up.

  Arousal surges straight to my cock, and I clear my throat to offer a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” and follow her inside before pulling the door closed behind me.

  With her back to me, her gaze meets mine in the mirror. “The lock.”

  I swallow hard, anticipation rippling through me as I lock the door.

  “I’ll need your help with this zipper, please.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but her eyes give her away. They darken with arousal.

  Slowly, I approach. With every step I take, bringing me closer to her, Simone’s breathing quickens and her lips part.

  Holding her gaze in the reflection, I carefully lower the zipper on her black sequined bodysuit, peeling the heavy fabric away, distractedly noting the built-in bra, to reveal her gorgeous body. She’s left wearing only a pair of shimmery flesh-toned tights and her red fuck-me heels. I dip my head to place a kiss on one bare shoulder, and her sharp intake of breath urges me on.

  “Did you…?” She trails off when I graze my teeth along the column of her neck. “Enjoy the show?”

  “Hell, yes,” I murmur, lifting my eyes to meet hers in the mirror. “You were spectacular.” And I mean it. She’s incredible and so goddamn talented.

  I watch our reflection and drop openmouthed kisses along her other shoulder. Simone’s breasts rise and fall, her breathing turning ragged. Her body arches, leaning into my touch, eyes closed.

  She looks beautiful with her hair up like this in some sort of elaborate twist. There are a shit-ton of pins holding it in place, and my fingers itch like hell to dive in, undo it, and grip the silky strands in my fist.

  Something about Simone brings out my inner caveman, and I can imagine fisting her hair while she’s bent over this chair with me driving my cock in and out of her at a furious pace while she’s watching every fucking move in the mirror.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, yes,” her husky voice says, drawing me from my thoughts. I hadn’t realized she’d opened her eyes and is now watching me with a heavy-lidded gaze. Her lips curve upward mischievously.

  I skim a hand over her bare breasts, studying her in the mirror while I tuck my fingers in the waistband of her tights.

  “Jesus.” I scrunch my face in disbelief. “What the hell kinda tights are these?”

  She lets out a nervous-sounding laugh. “It’s made to suck everything in.” Shifting away slightly, she removes them, stepping out of her heels, leaving her in a pitiful excuse for panties. Flesh-toned like her tights, the thong is merely a string on each side with a small bit of fabric covering her pussy.

  My jaw tightens, and without realizing it, I grip each side, my fingers slipping beneath the strings over her hips, and give a strong tug, snapping it. Her startled eyes meet mine.

  “They probably cost more than I make in a lifetime.” I grit out the words. “But I can’t give a fuck right now because all I wanna do is bend you over this chair and fuck that sweet pussy while you watch.”

  Her breath rushes past her lips, eyes glazed with lust as they lock with mine. “Do it.”

  A heartbeat later, I’m about to do exactly what I said. I stand behind Simone as she grips the chair, facing the mirror holding our reflections. My hands mold her ass before I nudge her legs apart to glide a finger along her pussy, barely parting her outer lips.

  “Oh, fuck, Princess.” Her pussy’s so goddam wet, already drenching my finger. “Like that idea a lot, huh?”

  She breathes out a, “Yes,” that morphs into a low moan when my finger dips knuckle deep in her wet pussy. Her top teeth dig into her bottom lip, the perfect white contrasting with her red-slicked mouth.

  With one hand, I tug at my belt with zero fucking finesse and unfasten my pants to shove them and my boxers down enough to grip my hard cock and guide the tip to her entrance.

  Simone whimpers my name when I gather her slickness with the head of my dick, her wet heat nearly singeing me. When she presses her pussy against me, urging me on, I know my grip on her hips is near punishing.

  Our eyes locked, I force my words through clenched teeth as I try to rein in my control. “I wanna fuck you hard, Princess. Not sure I can be gentle. Just want you so bad.” I glide my cock against her soaking wet pussy lips. “Wanna fuck you so deep you can’t think of anythin’ else for days.”

  Her grip is white-knuckled on the back of the chair, and her pebbled nipples graze the upholstery. “Do it.”

  I lower my head, placing a kiss on the back of her neck, and guide the tip of my cock inside her wet heat. Goddamn, I’m barely an inch deep, and already I’m so fucking close to the edge.

  “More,” she begs me, and I can’t deny her. No damn way I can deny this woman anything.

  I surge deep, and her inner muscles clutch at me as soon as I’m buried to the hilt, as if refusing to ever release my cock. And I reckon I’d be good with that, just spending the rest of my days balls deep in this beautiful woman. Spending my time making her come undone while she rides my tongue or my cock.

  “Look at you.”

  Those beautiful eyes of hers blink open in the reflection, and I love that I put that look of bliss on her face.

  “Look at how hard your nipples are. Watch when I do this.”

  I reach a hand around to finger her clit in slow, steady circles, and those rosy nipples tighten into small pebbles. Her chest heaves as I thrust in and out of her pussy in long, deep strokes, one hand gripping her hip while I toy with her clit.

  “You’re soakin’ my cock, Princess. But I want you to come hard and make it even wetter.”

  She whimpers again at my words, and I instantly feel a rush of wetness surround my dick.

  I practically growl before clenching my jaw tight against the urge to lose myself in her before she comes. My middle finger increases its pace on her clit, and she presses into my touch, urging me on. Driving my cock in and out of her sweet pussy, she tightens around me as I bring her closer to the edge. Simone’s eyes pinch closed, her fingers fisting the chair’s upholstery.

  “I want this pussy to come for me.” I drive my cock deep. “Wanna feel you get so fuckin’ tight and wet around me.” My movements become jerky and more desperate the closer I get to the edge. Fuck. I need her to come first. “Come on, Princess. Fuckin’ drench me—”

  W
ords are ripped from me the instant she pushes back on my cock with a force that robs me of breath a second before her inner muscles clench me so goddamn tight it makes me weak in the knees.

  “Fuck, yes,” I groan as my balls draw tight. My breaths come fast, in harsh pants, and I bite out a command, “Give me your mouth.”

  The instant she turns her head, I ravage her mouth with mine, our tongues colliding, and the kiss is so fucking hot, it only takes a few more deep thrusts before I finally let go. My orgasm rips through me, and my eyes squeeze shut as I come inside her, filling her up as explosive shudders wrack my body.

  Once my breathing calms, I realize I’m still caging her with my hands braced on either side of her on the chair.

  Then I realize something far more important.

  “Shit,” I murmur, opening my eyes as I ease away slightly to meet her gaze in the mirror. My tone is hushed when I say, “I didn’t use a condom. I’m—”

  “Clean,” she rushes to say, her throat working as she swallows before continuing. “I’m clean. I promise you that.” Then she ducks her head slightly. “I’ve never…”

  “Me, neither.” Her head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise, but I tack on, “I’m clean.” I wince, feeling like the biggest fuckup on earth. “But I should’ve been thinkin’ and—”

  “Kane.” The way she murmurs my name, so gently, has me pausing. “It’s okay. I get the shot, so I’m protected. But we should be more careful next time.”

  I nod. “I will. But you’ll let me know if—”

  “Of course,” she says softly.

  Even though I shouldn’t be borrowing worries, an image flashes in my mind of a pregnant Simone. Of her with a little girl who would be sung to sleep by her mother’s beautiful voice. A sudden tightness grips the center of my chest along with a sense of yearning. Yearning to be a part of those images.

  Christ’s sake. I mentally shake it off, wondering where the hell those delusions came from.

  I ease from Simone’s body as gently as I can, knowing I was rougher with her than I’ve ever been. There’s no denying the instantaneous sensation of loss at the separation. Like being inside her was just somehow…right.

  At her sharp intake of breath with the movement, I rush to apologize. “I’m sorry, Princess. I shouldn’t have been so rough.”

  She shakes her head emphatically. “It’s not that.” A small, wry smile plays on her lips as she straightens, quickly striding over to the box of tissues and grabbing a few to clean herself.

  Her eyes meet mine unabashedly as she wipes between her legs. “It’s my least favorite part.”

  “Cleaning up?”

  “No. When you slide out of me.” She drops the used tissues in the trash before grabbing her change of clothes—underwear, bra, a pair of faded ripped jeans, and a loose-fitting top with black flats—and begins pulling on clothing. It jars me into action, and I refasten my pants and belt because it’s inevitable that someone will come looking for her soon.

  Simone’s eyes flick to mine, features lined with what appears to be apprehension, before she lowers her gaze and finishes softly with, “It just feels…I don’t know. Like I’m losing something somehow.” Then she lets out a short laugh, and it sounds forced and not genuine in the least, dripping with unease.

  “Sorry.” Her movements are precise as she rushes to dress and begins tugging the pins free from her hair. A grimace crosses her face, one that should make her beautiful features less attractive, but it totally misses the mark. “That was stupid word vomit.” She avoids eye contact now. “Just, you know, female hormones and shit,” she mutters, pulling on her flats.

  I wait while she grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder, turning my way yet still refusing to meet my gaze. When she attempts to sidestep me and head for the door, I snag her wrist and pull her close. With a finger beneath her chin, I force her to shift her gaze from my shirt to look me in the eyes.

  “Hey, Princess.”

  Her response sounds wary, and her eyes match it. “Hey.”

  Holding her eyes, willing her not to look away, I confess in a low, gentle tone, “I feel the same way.”

  There’s the briefest pause as she appears to gauge my response, her eyes flitting over my face as if she’s assessing the truthfulness of my statement. She must see something because the uncertainty fades and gives way to one of the sweetest smiles I’ve ever witnessed.

  “Yeah?”

  I drop a kiss to her lips before murmuring against her, “Yeah.”

  Thump, thump, thump! The sound of a fist hammering against the dressing room door startles us a moment before Rachel’s voice calls out on the other side.

  “Simone!” Her manager’s voice sounds frantic, immediately sending shards of unease spreading through me. “I need to talk to you.”

  Simone’s eyes clash with mine, mirroring the worry, and I start for the door. When I tug it open, my frame spans the doorway protectively with Simone behind me.

  Rachel looks frantic, cell phone clutched tightly in her hand. Her voice is breathless as if she’s just run a marathon. “Oh, good. I’m glad you’re with her.” Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asks, “Has she heard the news? Is she okay?”

  I cock my head to the side. “Heard what?”

  “Shit,” Rachel mutters, glancing down at her phone and releasing a long, weary sigh. “She’s gonna hate this.”

  I stiffen. “What’s wrong?” Maybe it’s the guy who broke into her place?

  The woman’s shoulders slump, and she hands her phone to me. I accept it and read the article.

  * * *

  FORMER RECORD EXEC FILES DEFAMATION SUIT AGAINST SIMONE KING

  Shaun Sinquist, the former executive of Times Records, a label which boasts King as one of their top artists, is suing the pop star for defamation, stating that she was the reason he was fired from his job after accusing him of groping her at an event held by the record label.

  King has not wavered from her stance against Sinquist, stating that he “seemed like he felt entitled to do and say whatever he wished, regardless of whether it infringed on anyone else’s personal rights or comfort.”

  “Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath. Anger and shock surge through me with the intensity of a tsunami. Christ. Some fucking lowlife groped her?

  I really want to close this door and rewind time. Go back to a moment ago before this bullshit reared its ugly head.

  I jerk my eyes up to meet Rachel’s worried ones. She shakes her head with a groan and says, “If the press was acting like hound dogs before, salivating over any chance to get a sound bite, this just made things a million times worse.”

  Later that night…

  Simone and Rachel spend a bulk of the night on the phone with her lawyers. Once Rachel leaves, Simone calls Matthias back—he’d sent numerous text messages when he’d caught wind of the article—to update him on everything.

  Afterward, she stays seated at the dining room table with shoulders slumped and her eyes blank, looking too devastated and worn out for my liking. She doesn’t protest when I scoop her up and tuck her in her bed, not even when I ask to use the acoustic guitar she keeps handy for when she’s working on songwriting.

  I lower myself beside her on the bed, settling back against the headboard, and play a few Jack Johnson songs because that’s what I know best. My voice is rusty as hell since the last time I sang was… Shit. I realize now, the last time had been for Lucia.

  At first, it feels rough, unnatural, my low voice pushing out the lyrics, but finally, something breaks through, and I realize how much I missed this.

  I’m sure as hell not about to sign any record deals for my voice or talent, but playing for fun was something I enjoyed. Something for me.

  And somehow, Simone helped me find that again, to reclaim it.

  Her eyes soon fall closed from exhaustion and the weight of the day’s events. She lies curled on her side facing me, a hand resting casually on my thigh as I strum the ch
ords but don’t sing. Instead, I’m transfixed by Simone’s features, the way they relax as sleep pulls her further under.

  Once her breathing evens out, I stop playing and reach out to gently slide her hair back from her face.

  “Get some rest, Princess.” After carefully removing her hand from my leg, I quietly slip from the bed.

  With one last look at the beautiful and complicated sleeping woman, I ignore the pinch in the center of my chest and close the door behind me.

  The next day…

  “As if things aren’t bad enough.” Simone stares at the television, the weatherman getting battered by rain and barely able to stand upright against the hurricane-strength winds.

  A hurricane is now wreaking havoc on most of southern Florida, including Miami, where Simone was scheduled to perform three nights. Everything has been put on hold until further notice.

  Simone’s been visibly weighed down by what’s going on, not that I can blame her. I can’t imagine dealing with that kind of shit, and I don’t even know the whole story.

  She turns off the television and curls her legs beneath her on the couch, staring off, lost in her thoughts.

  “If you wanna vent, I’m always here.”

  I wince as soon as the offer’s out there because even I can detect the curiosity in my tone. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m trying to pry information out of her.

  When she releases a sigh, her smile is weak, but her expression is thoughtful. “It’s not a pretty story.”

  “I didn’t expect it to be from the sound of the article.”

  She exhales slowly. “Shaun always made me feel uneasy. He was crass and obnoxious. Always looked at women like they were objects and not people, if that makes any sense. Objectified women sexually. Just…not a good guy.

  “I’d avoid him as much as possible. Then the label had this event for the debut of one of my albums. I was posing for a photo with my team from the label, including Shaun. He stood beside me, and we all crowded in for the photo, and that’s when he slid his hand under the back of my dress and tried to finger me.”