by Nora Flite
With great patience, Sherman tucked his card into his breast pocket. “Someone should warn you not to burn bridges in this industry,” he said. “Mistakes always, always come back to haunt us.”
As he vanished into the dancing crowd, I experienced a full-body shiver. “What a jerk.” I cast Bach a half-smile. “Are you going to explain the chocolate fountain thing to me, or what?”
I meant to lighten the mood. But Bach didn’t take the bait. I was baffled by how focused he was on me... how every part of his body was taut, ready to explode. Or to pounce. “Why didn’t you take his card?” he asked.
“Why would I?” I laughed. His eyes were fierce. I toyed with the high neckline of my dress, aware of how much I was sweating. “Give me some credit. I told you I would work with you, didn’t I? I signed your contract. You were there, you know this.”
His Adam’s apple shifted when he swallowed. “It’s a no-fault breakable contract. You could walk away if you sensed a better offer.”
“Why would a smart man like you design a contract that could be broken if someone got a sniff of a tastier deal?”
Chuckling without humor, he hung his head. I could still see his hint of a smirk. “That was how Dad always did it. He never wanted to trap a musician, said it would just create bad blood and worse music.” Hesitating, he looked at me with suspicion. “You really didn’t read your own contract.”
“I—well, in my defense, I was distracted at the time.”
“Distracted by what?” he purred, closing in on me.
Unable to speak, I backed up. He followed, his grin getting more predatory. I had a hunch where this was going. I’d had a hunch all damn night. “Wait. I have more questions.”
“Fine, but not here.” His fingers swooped around mine. Without looking back, Bach led me through the crowd. The music faded into the background as he guided us through a building along the edge of the garden. A staircase later, and we’d broken back into the night air. The balcony overlooked the gala below, all the lights becoming jewels on a sea of glitter.
“Wow,” I whispered, pulling from his grip so I could lean over the cool stone wall. “It’s stunning from here.”
The wind blew gently on us both, easing some of the heat I’d built while dancing earlier. Bach came to stand beside me, his chin jutting out, eyes forward on the horizon instead of the party. “What were your questions?”
I straightened up, waiting for him to look at me before I spoke. “You knew that guy, Sherman.”
His lips twisted in a grimace. “He was the one who got my father his first big break.”
“He was Laurence’s agent?”
“Exactly.” Sighing, he put his back on the ledge and stared at the purple-gray sky above. “He’s not my biggest fan, to say the least.”
“What did you do to him?”
“When Dad passed away, Sherman expected to be cut into the will. He assumed he’d own part of Beats and Blast. But Dad left everything to me. All of it.” His chuckle was dry as salt. “I was tempted to run away from the responsibility. Sherman probably hoped I would, then he could swoop in and take over by force. Thank god for Violet. Without her help, nothing would function. Even so, my company has been spiraling for months. I was starting to think all hope was lost, but then... you came along.”
"Please," I laughed in surprise. "Just what am I to you?"
Bach was staring at me, his eyes smoldered until they became nothing but low embers that would flare up with a single breath. I was suddenly aware of his nearness.
He whispered, "You're my wishing star."
The air left my lips in a sudden gush. I knew I was gawking, there was no way to stop it. If anyone else had ever uttered a phrase like he had, I would have thought they were joking.
Bach was dead serious.
Low in my gut, I felt the weight of his words.
A wishing star. The sentiment was powerful, I didn't deserve someone to think of me like that. My voice came out shaky. "You can't mean that."
"I do mean it." His demeanor shifted as he leaned towards me. "When first I saw you, I wished as hard as I could that everything would become right again."
The wind tickled my neck. I imagined it was him, lightly brushing my hair away. He was sweeping me up with his velvet voice. I wondered if he sang, like his father had. Sherman had called him talentless, but I didn’t believe that. Not when he was capable of tugging at my heart with his presence alone.
We were close. Too close. My eyes darted to his mouth—that normally cocky smile—then back to his jungle-green eyes. "I haven't made anything right."
"You have."
"Name one."
"Amina... just by you being here, things feel more right than they have in a long while."
My ears were rippling with the silent roar of white noise. I moved my tongue so that I could try and argue. That was what I was used to—arguing with Bach Devine.
That was easy.
Much easier than falling for him.
No hint of my voice graced the evening air. Just my lips on his, my tongue shaping not for vowels, but for pleasure. The kind of kiss that turned my stomach into bird feathers. And a kiss I'd promised myself would never happen.
Bach was assertive in all aspects of his life.
But it was I who'd made the first move.
- Chapter Fourteen -
Bach
Three miles of curving Beverly Hills road wasn’t enough time for me to change my mind. Thirteen minutes with my hand up her dress as she writhed in the passenger seat sure as hell wasn’t, either.
There weren’t enough years on this earth for me to decide sleeping with Amina was a mistake. Violet was going to kill me. I didn’t fucking care.
We stumbled through my front door, and as I tried to yank off my jacket, she pulled me off balance. Together we crashed to the floor. Amina sprawled on the silver tiles of the giant music note, her teeth flashing as she laughed. I wondered if she had any clue how beautiful she looked.
Propping on my elbows, I just... watched her. I could do nothing else.
“Stop it,” she said.
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me like that. It’s too much.”
Curling my lip, I smoothed her hair away from her forehead. “Oh, baby doll, if you expect me to stop staring at you, you’ve got a lot of nerve.” I brushed my mouth on hers; she shivered under me. “No one tells me what to do. Especially not when it’s something I have no control over. I’ve been watching you helplessly since the moment you walked into my life.”
Her fingers clawed in the front of my shirt, ripping the buttons asunder. I reached back, throwing it and my jacket into a pile without ending our kiss. She tasted like sugared lemons and brisk ice; a summer memory that could never be shaken free.
Amina wrenched at my tie, the only thing I wore above my waist. “Upstairs. Now.”
“That’s my line,” I growled, scooping her into my arms. She squealed at how I held her tight, my legs pumping as I rushed towards my bedroom. My door bounced off the rubber stopped from how hard I kicked it open.
Standing her up, my fingers found the zipper at the back of her neck. Her hands held my jaw, refusing to release me because she wanted to let our tongues dance again. She shut her eyes; I copied her, enjoying how my other senses heightened. Her touch created buttery tingles in my belly.
“Let me look at you,” I said thickly. I backed away, just enough to allow me to absorb Amina in all of her glory. The plum dress was crumpled around her ankles; she wore nothing but lingerie and high-heels. Call me crude, but one of the hottest things is a nearly naked woman in nothing but heels.
The only thing hotter is being fully naked.
“Bed,” I commanded, gripping her upper arms, “Now.” I kissed her once more before I pushed her backwards onto the mattress. She gasped, splaying out with her arms above her head. There was heat burning in her eyes, her pupils tiny as the tip of a pin. Enjoying her full attention, I unlatched my
belt. “How long have you been wanting this from me?” I asked.
Amina startled, waking from her daze. “What?”
I let the belt fall loudly to the floor. She glanced at it, then me. “You’re staring at me with the eyes of someone who’s fantasized about fucking her boss. I’m asking when you first thought about it.”
“I—Bach, it’s not like that.”
“Then you don’t want to fuck me?”
She went red as a strawberry. “I shouldn’t sleep with you.”
I smirked. “Probably not.”
“I’m starting to forget why I came up here.”
My hands landed hard on either side of her on my bed. I brought my nose near hers, my voice a soft hiss that made her lips tremble. God, she wanted to kiss me so bad. “Let me remind you, sugar.” I collapsed on top of her, my weight pressing onto her chest in a way I could tell she enjoyed, because she moaned down my throat. It was as if her body craved the sensation of being crushed.
All of her tiny movements... the hints that I was driving her wild... only made me want her more. My cock was pulsing so violently it was painful. I needed more of this woman, more than I ever expected. Maybe more than she had to give.
Gripping the small remote on my bedside table, I aimed it at the light fixture in the ceiling. “No,” she breathed. “Leave the lights on. I don’t want to hide.”
My fingers twitched on the remote. Gazing at Amina stretched under me in her black bra and matching boy-cut panties, I experienced a sensation of becoming tighter. From the stem of my cock, then beyond, to my blood and bone. “You’re right,” I whispered, “Neither of us should bother trying that anymore.”
I threw the remote aside; it clattered distantly on my rug. Amina arched up into me, our hot skin creating friction as we collided. The weight of my own cock against my inner thigh was distracting. I could tell she felt it as I ground against her.
She hooked her fingers in my pants, easing them down my legs. I chuckled darkly when she gave my ass a squeeze as she moved over it. Kicking my feet until I was free of my pants, I reached down to adjust myself in my tight briefs. When I rolled my hips, my cock-head sandwiched between us both. “Ah!” Amina whimpered, meeting my dry-humping with her own eager movements.
With deliberate care, I made sure to grind my erection against her clit through her panties. Even through the material, it was clear she was soaked. “Fuck,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “I can’t wait to see how hot you get once I’m actually inside of you.”
“Jesus,” she whispered.
“Wrong guy,” I teased, kissing her neck. “But you can pray to me if you insist.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“Don’t be jealous. You’ll be full of me soon, too.”
Her thighs wrapped around my middle so she could rub her cunt harder against me. The bolt of pleasure that moved from my dick to my brain was so intense my eyes fluttered. “Less talk, more action,” she demanded.
I pushed her further up the bed until she was resting on my pillows. It angled her face closer to mine, allowed me to inspect the way her pupils were dilated by arousal. “Eager as you are, I don’t think you actually want me to stop talking.”
Amina inhaled a small, sharp breath.
“Yeah,” I whispered, smirking with satisfaction. I traced two fingers down her temple, then across her bottom lip. She whimpered deliciously. “I think you love when I talk to you. You like my filthy mouth, don’t you, sugar?”
Her cheeks burned brighter. Suddenly, she couldn’t look at me. Settling back so I was kneeling over her legs, I waited for her to watch me instead of my walls. It took her a few seconds, but eventually, she did. “Amina, what’s going on?”
“I... don’t know what you mean.”
“Am I pushing you too hard?”
“What? No!”
“Then why are you acting like my wallpaper is immensely interesting?”
Her teeth dug into the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry. Can we just go back to kissing?”
“Yeah. Yeah, alright.” But it wasn’t alright. Something was bothering her. Since when do you care about what someone is thinking during sex? Wrapping my hand in her hair, I drew her off the pillows for a light kiss. Amina didn’t want light, though; she yanked me against her violently. Her tongue circled mine, bringing my taste buds to life.
I followed her cue, letting her lead our dance. It reminded me of earlier in the night, how we’d tested each other on the dance-floor at the gala. And like then, I let her think she was in charge. But was that the truth here, in my own bed?
I ruled like the emperor of the fucking world.
“You smell so good,” I murmured into her ear. I scraped her bra straps down, sliding the cups out of the way until her nipples were exposed. I’d wondered before what color they’d be. Not peach, not quite pink. The beauty of them was nameless.
I trailed lightly across her skin, circling her left breast, never touching her where she wanted me to. Amina groaned behind her tight teeth. Her ribs flared, chest expanding as she tried desperately to push her tit into my palm. “Touch me!” she gasped.
“Not yet,” I said, nuzzling her collar bone. “More kissing, first.”
“Wha—ah!” she cried out as my lips trapped her right nipple. Gently I suckled, my tongue creating patterns that pulled her skin taut. Amina writhed under me, her toes sticking into my thighs, her nails burying in my hair. It didn’t matter how she tried to force me to hurry up, though. I had a pace that I was determined to move at.
My eyes shot upwards across her chest. Amina was looking down on me with fascination. The slack shape of her mouth was a silent scream for more, more, more! I leveled my gaze, never breaking it as I drew two of my fingers between my lips and soaked them. Reaching over, I thumbed her slick nipple, gently tweaking it.
Her response was immediate. “Fuck!” she sobbed, shaking under me. My cock swelled in my underwear. Driven by her desire, I played with her nipples, alternating my fingers with my mouth, never leaving either of her tits alone. My light pulls became firm twists, but I never went too far—never did anything that would hurt her.
Amina was absorbed in how I toyed with her. Her cheek turned on my pillow, and I hoped it would smell like her for days.
Smoothly, I reached under her and undid her bra. Tossing it aside, I scooped up the elastic of her panties. Peeling them down her thighs, I slid with them until I was kneeling between her ankles, and she was naked before me.
The dress she’d worn had left tiny grooves on her ribs from the boning in it. I rolled my fingertips down the lines, letting them lead me to her navel. I kissed one hip, then the other, and each time she gasped out loud.
“You smell amazing,” I said huskily. “I can’t handle not knowing how you taste.”
“W—wait,” she argued, putting her knees together. “Not that.”
I stared, thinking she was being shy. “Don’t be selfish, I’m going crazy thinking about eating you out.”
Amina shook her head emphatically. “I can’t, please.”
Baffled by her argument, I rested my palm on her thigh. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.” What was she worried about? My mouth was watering from wanting to lick her sweet cunt. But I wasn’t going to force it. Lying two fingers in a V-shape on her pussy lips, I arched my eyebrows. “Fingering?”
She quirked a weak smile. “That’s fine, yeah.”
“Thank fucking god,” I growled. Kissing her knee, I put my fingers in my mouth to get them wet. I knew she was soaked, but I liked seeing the expectation burning in her stare as she watched me suck my own fingers.
Spreading her open, I swirled my thumb near her clit—not on it, just near. “That nice?”
She whimpered as she rocked her hips. “Yes.”
“And this?” I pushed the tips of two fingers gently inside of her, not going further. Her walls tried to draw me in—her moan was obscene.
“God, yes, kee
p going.”
My dick was so solid it could have punched through a paper bag. I jerked myself with my free hand, my fingers working into her cunt up to my knuckle. She squeezed me eagerly, begging for more.
“Fuck me,” she suddenly cried.
“Eager, are we?” I smirked.
“Bach, please, I’m ready.”
“I know.” Plunging my fingers deep into her pussy, I crooked them, rubbing the spongy surface of her roof. She clenched down, toes curling by my shoulders. “I can tell how ready you are, babe. This foreplay isn’t just for you, though.” My thumb grazed her swollen clit. “I get off on playing with you. Your body is stunning, everything about you is perfect.”
Amina was panting now. Her fingers buried in the blankets, her tendons tight. She was shaking all over as I drove her towards orgasm. When it hit, she squeezed my fingers so hard I wondered if my cock could fit inside of her. She was tight as hell. “So goood,” she groaned, pointing her tits towards the ceiling.
Breathing heavily, I slid my hand out. Amina saw me suckle her juices off my fingers. She blushed fiercely, then perked up when I leaned towards my bedside table. I withdrew a foil packet from inside.
The passion in her face glowed hotter as I pulled my briefs down my thighs. My shaft curved proudly. There was clear appreciation in her face as I sheathed myself with the condom.
Climbing back onto the bed, I balanced over her hips. A few strokes across her swollen pussy lips, and the latex was slippery. It was a filthy sight; the way my cock was pressed between her thighs, resting on her clit, looking far too huge to fit inside of her.
The way she gazed up at me... I could have hated myself for how aroused her wide-eyed innocent-image got me, but I had lots of other, better reasons to hate myself, so that one would have to get in line. “Hang on tight,” I whispered. “I don’t plan to go easy on you.”
“I never asked you to.” Her eyes dared me to push her. I saw it before she could hide it behind another self-conscious pout. Then she breathed in, her tits bouncing, and I forgot everything but one word.
