by Piper Lawson
“Fuck. You do this to them too, you know. You can’t see it from the stage, but they want how you make them feel. More than that, they want who you are.”
They want Little Queen, I correct in my mind. But it’s hard to think with what we’re doing. What I’m doing.
His hand slips out of the camera’s view, and the visual glitches. I imagine his hand wrapped around his cock. Stroking.
If I asked to see it, would he let me?
But that’s not what this is about, I realize as the track changes to another of my songs.
I rise from the couch and tug my shorts off, laying them on the cushion before I sit back down.
My hand goes back to my breast, the other one drifting down.
I slip it between my folds where I’m wet, and my head falls back on a silent moan.
“You like watching me?” I murmur, loving the flare of his nostrils, the rise and fall of his chest with shallow breaths.
“Almost as much as I like fucking you.”
My laugh is low. I rub two fingers over my clit, gasping in surprise at how sensitive I am already.
I stroke myself, slow at first, half tempo. Any self-consciousness ebbs little by little as my music swells in the background. My man’s ravenous expression and groans turn me on even more.
“The first time I knew you were going to be a problem was in Ibiza. You were rubbing your head because of tension headaches and planning your second set for Debajo. I’d just thrown out your meds and you were spitting venom and I kept wondering what you’d say if I laid you down on the kitchen table and ate you.”
“I would’ve said less lip, more tongue,” I tease.
His eyes flash with heat, and an emotion that makes my chest tighten.
Heat floods my skin as I dial up my strokes, my other hand slipping down my stomach to help as I arch, my head dropping back against the couch.
“Raegan, fuck.”
He’s agonized, but I’m enthralled. It’s a spell I’m weaving on myself as much as one he’s weaving on me.
It feels so good. Wild. Free.
I come on my own fingers, crying out as the shockwaves start at my core and ripple through every part of me.
Moments later, I hear his hard groan.
I shut my eyes and imagine him coming on me, spilling over my body.
When we finish, my breath coming back to normal, he asks, “How do you feel?”
I crack my eyes open, my attention cutting from his handsome face and dilated pupils to my computer and the new track that started just moment ago.
I shift forward, biting my lip as I scan the screen. “I think I’m going to open with this.”
“My ass is burning. You willingly do this?” I demand.
“Four times a week,” Annie confirms as we grab our bags and head out of the studio barre class.
“Can’t picture Tyler doing that to look good on stage.”
“He doesn’t have to. He’s done four shows a week all summer. His ass is great.”
“And you’re moving back to LA in a few weeks?”
“Yup. He doesn’t have family, and my dad’s in Dallas. We always thought we’d come back east when Tyler’s contract was up, but LA is growing on me and the winters bug him. I like the idea of raising kids in California.”
I nod toward her stomach. “Find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“I want to be surprised. Tyler would prefer certainty, but I reminded him nothing in life is certain.” She grins. “What about you? Are you sticking around in LA?”
“It’s as good a home base as any,” I say, shrugging. “I have the cash to get my own place and leave Beck alone.”
Between Ibiza, royalties, and more recent gigs, actual money is starting to pile up in my accounts.
“Beck says he never sees you.”
I cut her a look. “Harrison and I are dating. It’s getting serious.”
“You think? The man wouldn’t switch his breakfast cereal without a motive.”
I round on her. “I didn’t plan on this. He found out something that happened in my past, and I was so sure it would be the end, but it only made us closer.”
“What?”
I haven’t told anyone about this in years, but since the wedding, something in my chest has come loose, and I’m processing all these feelings. So, I fill my former roommate in on what happened with Zach, how I tried to bury it.
Her eyes shine with compassion, but she only puts a hand on my arm.
“If Harrison’s the reason you’re opening up about this, I’m glad.”
“He’s the reason for a lot of things,” I admit, thinking of last night and how it felt to let loose with him.
“Such as?”
“He makes me coffee,” I say bluntly.
Annie cocks her head. “And that’s bad?”
“He used to drink this terrible fucking coffee. Until I bought a better kind. And a French press. The first night I stayed over, he made it for me. The man has never cooked a day in his life, never so much as made his own tea. But he makes me coffee every day.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“This morning, I woke up, and my first thought wasn’t about the gig tonight or even seeing you. It was that I didn’t have a cup of coffee to drink knowing that he’d made it with his own damn hands.”
My exhale is heavy. “It’s like the more real I am, the more he gets me.”
“It’s awesome?”
“It’s fucking terrifying.”
“I know what it’s like to have someone see you, Rae. And I wish I could tell you that fear goes away, but it just changes. Hell, we’re married, but there are still moments I’m terrified to lose Tyler. Not because I don’t believe in him, but because I don’t believe in me. Or I don’t believe we deserve everything we have. There’s only one thing I know for sure.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a performer. Whatever you feel, use it.”
When I get ready for my show that night, I pick out a low-cut black top and tight pants with killer boots. Then I flip through my wigs, holding up one after another in the mirror.
None match my mood.
I stare at my reflection. Dark liner, top and bottom, frames my eyes. Thick eyelashes. A tube of plum lipstick waits on the dresser.
I reach for a lip balm instead. My lips are dry from chewing on them.
Little Queen is me, and she isn’t. At the time, I thought I created her because I wanted a place to feel free and safe to experiment.
But lately, I’ve been forced to step outside my comfort zone without that protection. And I’ve survived.
They want how you make them feel. But more than that, they want who you are.
I ignore the wigs and tug the elastic out of my own hair, scrunching it so it falls around my head.
If tonight is my last chance at getting to Wild Fest, I’m going to give them a show.
I’ll give them me.
21
Harrison
From the second I landed in London, the city that should’ve felt like home, I’ve wanted to get back to Rae. The posh flat I’ve spent hundreds of nights in felt empty without her next to me.
“I did what you asked,” my finance lead informed me from across the table in our London offices. “I have the bridge financing so you can increase your bid for La Mer. And we tripped up a new deal of Mischa’s to make it harder for him. But there’s a problem. He caught one of our men looking around after hours on one of his new projects. Apparently, faced with the prospect of losing something of value to him, the man talked. Which means he knows you’re behind it.”
I need to finalize the La Mer deal. And quickly.
That wasn’t the only bad news.
My investigator informed me he discovered records of a seven-figure payment more than a decade ago—not to my parents, but from them. His hypothesis was it was an investment in the expansion of the Ivanov empire.
“They must have brokered a deal as p
art of their exit,” I told him.
“Except other stakeholders in the organization made the same payment. People who are working there to this day.”
I didn’t have an explanation for that, as much as I wanted to.
The words haunted me all the way back to LA.
My parents weren’t criminals. It’s impossible.
They were decent people. Everything I’ve done is for them—the business I’ve built, the Ibiza club I’ve done everything to claim.
Not everything, a voice says.
I had a chance at it earlier in the summer.
My future in exchange for the club.
In some ways, I’ve already pledged it. But it felt different pledging myself to Christian’s daughter.
At least, it did once Raegan Madani barged into my life.
We haven’t talked much in the past forty-eight hours thanks to work and traveling. But when she called me from New York after I finished packing, the night turned into one I won’t soon forget.
Her touching herself, letting me watch, fucking getting off on me watching…
It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I need to touch her. I’ve been rubbing myself raw since that night.
It’s not only her body I miss, it’s the snippy comments, the way she goes into a trance when she’s working hunched over her computer, the little sigh of contentedness when I pull her against me in the morning and she’s still asleep.
She’s scheduled to get back to LA today, too, and I have plans for her.
Unknown: Thought you’d be interested in this.
The text that comes in when I land at LAX comes with a photo. It’s taken from a distance, but the men in it are clearly visible. One in particular is familiar, and he’s the one that counts.
I head to my condo to shower and change—shirt only, no jacket.
On impulse, I grab some of the books I brought to LA as reminders of home, a few from my father’s collection and ones I’ve acquired since, and pack them into a bag I take down to my car.
On the way to the club, I text Rae to remind her I’m picking her up for dinner and she’s not leaving my bed for a week.
As I enter the warehouse, the gazes of the workmen flick toward me, then away.
Leni looks up from her phone on the couch of the office. “Your girlfriend is hot. Did you see the posts?”
I grab the phone out of her hands to find a video of Rae mixing. Not Little Queen, either, but my Raegan. She’s a goddess with straight dark hair, dark clothes, rimmed eyes that blaze with enough intensity to steal a man’s soul when she looks up.
She’s moving to the music. The crowd is in it with her. The headphones I bought her are around her neck, and I have a brief fantasy of locking them there to hold her in place while I fuck her until we’re both sweaty and sore.
I want it, but I also want the moments after, when I’d hold her so tight her breath fans my skin and her heart beats against mine.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
The words have my gaze snapping to Leni’s. I could argue, but there’s as much sense lying to one of my best friends as there is lying to myself.
“Do you wish I wasn’t?”
“I like her, Harry, and I’m glad she makes you happy. But I remember what happened last time.”
“Raegan is twice the woman Eva was.”
“I know. I just don’t want it to mess with your head, or your business.” Leni grabs the phone back. “No more until we get this figured out,” she chastises.
I arch a brow as I set the bag of books on the desk. “This being…?”
“It’s been three days and there’s nothing on the zoning approval since the hearing.” Her frown deepens. “The audio equipment is arriving any moment.”
I think back to my confrontation with Whelan, and the consequences of it.
She’s not holding any sharp objects—I do a quick scan to make sure.
“There’s going to be a delay in the planning department. The head of zoning has been arrested.”
I unzip the bag, carefully remove two of the books, and take them to the shelf opposite.
“Arrested? For what?”
Pleased with how they look, I go back for two more.
“There are already steps underway to mitigate the inevitable delay this will cause in zoning approvals,” I go on. “So, I need you to pay a visit to the deputy director before this breaks. The committee reports have been filed. Explain that Whelan signed off verbally and promised to rubber-stamp it for us today. If he balks, remind him of the revenue projections and tax implications. If he stalls or says he needs to discuss with Whelan, convince him that would be unwise.”
“And it would be unwise because…?”
I retrieve the last of the books, including the plastic-protected second edition Dumas that Rae pulled off my shelf in Ibiza, nearly dropping once she realized its age and value.
“Because Whelan’s not returning to work. Today or ever.”
I arrange the books on the shelf and step back to admire my work. There’s still too much room on the other shelves below. If I’m going to be sticking around awhile, I need to add more books, or perhaps a sculpture.
Leni steps between me and the shelf, her eyes wide with horror. “Harrison, what the fuck have you—“
“Time to celebrate?”
The low, feminine voice from the doorway has me turning, though Leni doesn’t release her grip on my arms.
My girlfriend stands in the office doorway, holding a bottle of champagne. She’s wearing the dress I bought her and had delivered to Beck’s. It’s black and strapless, hugging her curves. As she reaches up to pull the sunglasses from her hair and set them and her phone on the desk, her cuff glints gold in the overhead lights. She looks healthy and happy and mine.
It’s been three days since I’ve been inside her, and I’m about to die from the injustice of it all.
Leni crosses to Rae and takes the champagne bottle. “That’s the good shit. What’s the occasion?”
“I booked Wild Fest. Just got the email this afternoon. More than that… the stream from my show racked up a million views in two days. I have offers coming in from everywhere.” Her slow smile is dazed and my chest aches with pride.
“Good for you,” Leni comments. “I wish we had as much to celebrate, but—“
“Leni, could you find us glasses?” I cut her off smoothly.
I don’t want news of Whelan’s arrest taking away from Raegan’s day, her triumph.
Thankfully, Rae’s oblivious. “It’s fine. I figured we’d pass it around.”
I take the bottle and unwrap it, then open it with a pop.
Leni takes a long swig before passing it back to Rae. “Well, it’s not a zoning permit”—my friend gives me side-eye—“but it’s something. Excuse me while I get back to work.”
As Leni heads out to the warehouse, I round the desk to Rae.
Waves of dark hair fall around her shoulders in a way that should be haphazard but only makes me want to fist it while I fuck her.
When she takes a drink from the bottle, my attention locks on her lips. I want to kiss her mouth.
I want to own it.
Rae offers me the bottle, and every part of me tightens, including my grip on the neck of the champagne.
“Congratulations. Your show was incredible,” I murmur. “I watched every clip I could find. Eventually I stopped because there wasn’t a newspaper large enough to cover the tent in my trousers when I got off the plane.”
She laughs. “Chartered flights, the official sponsor of dirty old men everywhere.”
“It wasn’t only a great performance, Raegan. It was you.”
I’m in love with her. But I can’t say it now, not with everything going on.
The expensive fabric of her dress is thin, but it feels too thick under my thumbs where they stroke her sides. I drag her farther into the office and kick the door shut.
“
Can’t take this,” I mutter when I press her back to the door. Her lips are champagne and possibility, and I’m giddy on the taste of her. “You’re dressed head to toe in things I got you. It’s fucking hot.”
My fingers find the zipper at her back.
“So why’re you in a hurry to get them off?” Her voice is breathless.
“Because what’s underneath is mine too.” I unzip the dress and push it off her. If I had the upper hand, it’s gone when she straightens from laying the dress over my desk and I take in her lingerie-clad body.
Her golden skin peeks through the black lace of the bra, the triangle at the tops of her thighs.
“I see you did some shopping yourself.”
She shrugs. “I was in New York.”
I skim the curve of her breast, the lace and her heaviness beneath making my throat dry. “I approve.”
“Well thank fuck, because I was waiting for that.” Her sassy comeback makes me grin.
“These curves are soft,” I murmur. “Inside, you’ve got edges.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Take everything I say as a compliment.”
Her eyes shine as she presses up to kiss me. “Even when I’m stubborn?”
“Perfect,” I groan when she tugs on my hair.
“A hermit?”
“It’s cute.”
“Sleep until noon?”
“Means I get to watch you dream.”
I drag her harder against me, loving her gasp as the best parts of us collide.
“I used to think you were this beautiful, untouchable asshole,” she murmurs. “But you’re just a man.”
“I wish I was a better one.” I search her face, memorizing every line and curve. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, for good reasons and bad ones. My sins can’t be erased.”
“I like you best when you’re not perfect. When you can be yourself with me, because it means I can be myself with you.”
Fuck.
She wants the unvarnished version of Harrison King.
I’ve never shown it to anyone. Not the way I have with her.
