I was smarter than this, dammit.
He was on the rise and I was just a pit stop until the merry-go-round of fame swallowed him up. I’d do well to remember that, no matter what his hands and mouth could do to me.
“That is a fact, but the one I’m speaking of has purple-tipped hair and golden eyes. The fathomless kind that burn when I make you come.”
“Stop it.”
“I remember the little puffs of air between your groans. As if you can’t quite catch your breath when I touch you. I dreamt of you last night. Of that magic mouth wrapped around my cock, your strong hands digging into my ass as you took more of me. God, I woke with cum on my belly.” He laughed harshly. “Coming on my stomach like when I was in primary school. I couldn’t even shower the memory away. Why I’m back in my bed. It’s easier to dream of you when I can’t be around you.”
“Dammit, Ian. You can’t say stuff like that.?
?
“Why not?”
“Because you just can’t.” My nipples beaded against the jersey material of my dress. I’d been rushing around and had only taken the time to put on a cami instead of a bra. Not like I had much to work with.
“Because you feel it too? Do you dream of me, Magic?”
“I’m not here for phone sex, Ian.”
“I can be there in thirty minutes, give or take an Uber.”
“I don’t mean that, either.”
He sighed. “It’s just a job, Zoe. No one gets me like you do. I’ve seen your paintings. Those that you let me see anyway. I want you to show people who you think I am.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Ah, but you do. More than anyone.”
I collapsed onto my back, the drop cloth cushioning my head. “I’m not part of your world, Ian. I don’t want to be.”
“Maybe for a little while. Just come with me this weekend. Let me show you what it’s like. And if it’s not for you, I’ll leave you be.”
I didn’t want that.
Immediately, I knew that was a fact. It had been days since I’d heard his voice and already my body was reacting to it. Not just what he could do to me, or the crazy sexual side he’d awakened—no, it was so much worse than that.
My brain was buzzy and full of creativity around him. And his music spoke to me on a fundamental level. I was afraid to let him all the way in. What would I do when he walked away?
Would I be better for having been with him? Or would I be just a low hum of static as if I was an instrument that had been tuned wrong?
“I don’t want you to leave me be.” It came out as a whisper.
“Ah, Magic. You kill me in the worst way. So contrary and so mine. Will you be mine tonight?”
“It’s not night.”
“My room is dark. Black-out curtains thanks to a little tinfoil.”
I let out a soft laugh. “I’m sure your landlord is excited.”
“I don’t fucking care.”
But he did. He tried to make everyone think he didn’t, but already I could see it was one of his fundamental traits. He wanted to prove himself on a number of levels. Part of what was so fascinating about him.
“I’d say the sun is screaming into your studio right now. Unless you pulled your shutters.”