GIO (Interracial Rockstar Romance)

G-fucking-O is on my phone!

At eighteen, his first album brought him international fame. The second one solidified his place in the music industry. The third made him a legend. It had been four years since his fourth album. All the GioKnights were desperately waiting. No one thought he would ever make music again after his songwriter and best friend, Jason Beals died from an overdose last year. Since then, Gio had hidden in the shadows, barely getting photographed or doing interviews.

And now he might be working on his fourth album with me. Me!

Such a soulful singer, many claimed he energized the genre of Blue-eyed Soul. I’d seen an interview where he said he found the term Blue-eyed Soul pigeonholing and disrespectful to Rhythm and Blues artists of other ethnicities.

He demanded respect for those that paved the way for him. That made me love him more.

I can’t believe I’m on the phone with Gio.

Finally, he broke the silence. “I love your song.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Very sexy. I can picture...” He cleared his throat. “I love it. You said you had another one. Let me hear it.”

“Oh, yes.” I rummaged through all the scattered sheets of music on my coffee table and picked the last one I’d been working on.

“I’m ready when you are, Simone.” Simple words, yet his voice did wild things to my body.

Nervous, I breathed in and out, stretched my fingers, and sang the next song. “This is a fantasy. This is a dream. Don’t wake me up. I’m covered in cream, and you’re just licking.”

He groaned, speeding up my heartbeat, but I kept on.

“So dangerous. I’m going blind. I’m going deaf. I’m losing my mind. After you, I’ll have nothing left.” I strummed the guitar. “Want another taste, I'm begging you—”

“You’re always begging.” Giovanni cut into my song with his statement, and I swore a sensual growl came with the words.

“Um, I’m sorry.” I froze. “What?”

“When you write a song about sex, the woman is always begging.”

Shocked, I thought back to my recent ones and had to agree. “I guess it’s a coincidence. I don’t know why.”

His sensual voice rolled over my skin like a warm, soft caress. “Do you beg for it?”

I blinked. It took several seconds for me to find my next words. “That’s...private.”

And I would have to leave the house to even have someone to beg to.

“I was just wondering,” he said. A weird sound came from the other side like he was moving clothing, but I was sure it was just my imagination.

Girl, get it together. He’s not opening his pants…even if it would be nice.

Although Gio had launched artists’ careers and must’ve had his own award room stacked with plaques and Grammys, back in the day, he mainly remained in the news due to his sexual exploits.

He wore gorgeous actresses and supermodels like one would wear watches or jackets. On Monday, he had a Middle Eastern princess at a movie premiere he did the soundtrack for. By Tuesday, he’d be seen making out with an up-and-coming female action star in a night club. Then Wednesday, there would be pictures of him sunbathing on a yacht with a French supermodel. Thursday, he’d be on stage at a concert twirling the Queen of hip hop around and kissing her through the chorus.

And it wasn’t just that he was talented, rich, and famous. Had he been poor and unknown, he still would’ve had lots of women. His face was art—strong, sculpted, sensual. His lips soft and full. His blue eyes trapped the soul.

Before Jason died, his playboy ways entertained the world. Now, there was only silence when it came to information about Gio.

Is he still the same?

“Continue,” he said. “I want to hear more of the song.”

I returned to my guitar, strummed the melody, breathed in, and sang, “Please, baby, come all over me. Please, fuck me until I can’t see. Please...”

I stopped, not wanting to finish the rest of the song after his comment on the begging. For a few seconds, I scanned the page and realized that it was more pleading. “I’m sorry. Can I sing a different song?”

“But I liked that one.”

“You did?”

“I did.” Again, the sound of clothing unraveling came over the line. “However, sing another. For now, I want to buy those two.”

Both! He wants them both!

“Oh.” Shocked, I held in my scream. I’d have to yell out my joy later. “That’s awesome.”

“You’re talented. I’ve never meant someone who can write like you. What’s the next song?” And then he chuckled. “Will she be begging in this one?”

I blushed. “Very funny.”

“I’m just wondering.”

I flipped through several sheets of music. “I’m sure I can find a non-begging song.”

“Don’t search too long. I like to hear you beg.”

My skin heated, but I had to remind myself that Gio’s talent wasn’t just music. He had a seductive way with women.