GIO (Interracial Rockstar Romance)

“Okay. This is different. There’s no begging.” I exhaled, cracked my fingers, and went into the next song. “Go deeper, deeper than you'll ever know. Swim inside of me, baby, I’m loving the way you flow. Go deeper, I love the way you stroke, and I’m dripping baby, soaking wet—”

He loudly groaned over the line.

My fingers tripped over the strings. I widened my eyes and mixed up a note in the song. “Oh. I should...start again.”

“No,” he whispered. “No, that’s fine.”

I frowned. “Did you like this?”

It took him a few seconds before he answered. “Yes. Send all three to me.”

Anxiety hit me. All types of thoughts tornadoed through my head.

Are they ready for someone as big as Gio? Maybe I should—

I put my guitar down. “I was going to work on the tracks some more and play with the rhythm of—”

“No,” he said. “Send them tonight. I love them just the way they are.”

“Okay.”

“Too much editing and touching up will take away from the raw hunger in each line. When I play with them, will you do the background vocals for me?”

“Y-yes...of course.”

“Good. I’m not sure which one will go on my new album. I don’t even want to choose. In fact, I’m thinking all three should be on there.”

All I had to say was, “Whoa.”

“You’re just the creative spirit I need. You make me want to...”

I wished he’d finished the sentence. Surely, I sat there, waiting, drooling, barely breathing, unable to think or speak.

I make you want to what? Tell me. Please! Please!

He cleared his throat. “I need you.”

My entire spirit lifted. This powerhouse of a star needed me, a chick who’d grown up in poverty, struggled all her life, battled doubts and negativity. Suddenly, this successful musician needed me.

“By the way,” he laughed, “that song had begging too.”

I blushed. “It was not begging. She was more...guiding him.”

“Wouldn’t he know what to do?”

“Every woman is different in some ways. He may need to learn what she likes.”

His voice stroked the line. “And she likes it deeper?”

“Yes.” I barely mumbled the word as my nipples stiffened.

“I would like you to write me some more songs. And with these new ones, I don’t want her to beg. I want her to take control. He wants to give it to her. Trust me on that. She would never have to beg with him.”

I couldn’t help it, but I had to ask. “But what if she loves to beg? What if it turns her on?”

A low groan came next. “Good point, Simone.”

My nipples tightened with hunger some more, but they always did that when I was on the phone with him. Thank God, we’d never met in person. My panties would’ve been soaking wet.

Get it together, girl.

I set the guitar down. “Okay. I can send you the three songs tonight.”

“Do you like to beg, Simone?” he disrupted my thoughts.

My tongue tied. I had to unravel it, before replying, “I think that question is beyond our business relationship.”

“It is. You’re correct. I’m just bored out here in the mountains. No entertainment. No one to talk to.”

“I doubt that.” The news always loved to discuss the many playboy exploits he’d had. Gossip shows hadn’t reported on any of his new romances in a year. Not that they weren’t dripping with hunger to present something, anything, juicy for his fans. Many speculated he was still mourning Jason’s death. Either way, I was sure many women still warmed his bed.

“I really don’t have anyone to talk to. It’s true. I’ve taken a break from debauchery. I’m out here... meditating, doing Tai chi, reading, writing. I’m focused. I have this fourth album to put out. Nothing can get me away from it.”

“I like that.”

“I want to say something with this album, but all I can think about right now is sex and love.”

“Sex and love is saying something,” I offered. “Songs about revolution and healing the world are all amazing songs. But the ones that tend to sink in our heart are the ones that bring us together. And nothing brings people together like sex and love.”

He laughed. “Good point. Then, I’m going to go with this path. Your songs are definitely taking us down this journey of sexual exploration.”

Taking us? My songs? Whoa.

Silence hung over the line.

He asked, “So?”

“What?”

“Do you like to beg for it?”

A nervous giggle left my lips.

Don’t answer. Keep it business. It would just be flirting to him, but for me...it would be everything. Stay focused.

“Gio, I plead the fifth.”

“Fine. That might be an uncomfortable question and very unprofessional. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to answer.”

“Thank you.”

No matter how many times my nightly fantasies had painted pictures of Gio naked and moving inside of me, I had to keep it professional. Many producers spotted up-and-coming female artists and used them for sex toys, promising contracts, deals, and fame. Tons of women fell for these shiny rock stars only to get burned by the bright lights and fiery egos. In the end, all the women got were broken hearts and wet sheets, damaged reputations, and sexual harassment suits they were too scared to file.