GIO (Interracial Rockstar Romance)

Jason’s second guideline was that I do something that only made me happy with the rest of the money. He was so serious about it, he’d hired a board to oversee all my spending.

Many wondered what I did with the leftover thirteen million. I’d already had mega-mansions and luxury cars. I’d traveled more than anyone due to my parents taking me everywhere when I was young and then all my touring later.

So, I ended up doing the one thing I’d always wanted to, but thought it would be too stupid to do. I created the world’s most expensive model train set ever.

Thirteen million dollars of a tiny United States covered a massive room—harbors and airports, roads and buildings that spanned over the little country. Real water filled the ponds and lakes. It was over eight miles of track, four thousand buildings, and even two hundred thousand LED lights and figurines. The set-up utilized sophisticated software to control and direct the movement of trucks, cars, planes, and boats.

I pressed play on Simone’s first song and began moving my favorite train around.

“Naked, she begged, please. Naked, she begged, please.”

Walking over to the other side of the room, I moved the train toward the tiny model of New York, wondering what Simone was doing now.

“So close, so wet, and so hot, naked, she begged, please.”

As the train approached New York, the entire state lit up. The Statue of Liberty glowed green. The Empire State building illuminated white, red, and blue.

“I’ll give you what you want, he said, I’ll give you what you need.”

The tiny model of Times Square came alive. Billboards glowed and moved around.

“With your legs open, spread wide, just moan for it, one more time.”

The train rounded Central Park and chirping sounds filled the air. Tiny fireworks shot above that area of the model and sparkled.

“So, naked, she begged please.”

There was a beauty to her talent. Her lyrics reminded me of Jason’s. They both did sense-bound writing. Their lyrics stimulated the senses and allowed the listener to draw the song’s images from their own experiences. Therefore, the observer shifted into the participant.

But unlike Jason, I felt her voice in my heart. Some voices stopped at my ears, but there were those few singers that could pierce my chest and capture every heartbeat.

Fuck this. I’m flying her up. I can focus with her here. It’ll be fine.

I stopped the train, shut off the music, and closed my eyes, thinking about what she’d said on the phone.

“But what if she loves to beg? What if it turns her on?”

Groaning, I whispered to myself, “Then, she can have whatever she’s begging for, as long as she wants it.”

I must get her here…for the music. Nothing else.

I turned her song back on, reached my hand down the front of my jeans, and stroked my hard cock to sweet Simone.

“Naked, she begged please.”

Chapter 3

Simone

Music is the mediator between

the spiritual and the sensual life.

~Ludwig van Beethoven

On a typical day, I woke up around eight, grabbed a huge cup of coffee, and checked my emails. The songwriting came next.

This morning turned out to be different. So close to the holidays, every relative and close friend called to check up on me. I spent most of the morning on the phone, sipping coffee and munching on junk food.

“How are you?” Aunt Benita asked. “How’s Manhattan?”

“I’m fine. Uh...but, I don’t actually live in Manhattan. I’m in Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn, huh? Well, you should check out Manhattan. I saw this great movie and it was all these beautiful buildings.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.”

Unlike the rest of my family, Aunt Benita had never left South Carolina. Therefore, most of her knowledge of places came from movies. And being that most NY films focused on filming in Manhattan, she pretty much figured it stretched across the state. Other times, I’d explained that New York City was not just Manhattan. I’d even told her about Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, and Staten Island, but I’d given up explaining this months ago.

Aunt Benita whistled. “Christmas in Manhattan. You must try it. You have to visit the tree in Rockefeller Center.”

“I sure will. I’ll put it on my to-do list.”

“Love ya, baby.”

“I love you too, Auntie.”

Mom and Dad called next.

“You don’t take the subway, right?” Dad asked.

“Uh, no. Of course not.” I hoped he wouldn’t catch my little lie.

“Good,” he said. “Taxies should be the safest.”

Mom jumped on the phone. “How’s your dating?”

“Really, Mom? Not Merry Christmas or Happy New Year?”

“I would love a grandson.”

“You have five granddaughters.”

“Which is why I would love at least one grandson.” She slipped into Geechee. “Milk ain’t dry off e mout yet.”

“I know I’m young.”

She pushed the topic further. “You should date. Have you met any nice men?”

My father grumbled in the background, hating this topic.

I sighed. “Oh yes. I’ve met tons of men. So many. Every night, I’m on the arm of a prince or supermodel.”