“Every time I see you in these leggings, I want to haul you over my lap and spank the living daylights out of you, little girl.”

“I’ll keep wearing them then, Daddy.”

I melt into his arms as he kisses me. He delves down into my leggings and kneads my ass with his big hands.

“Did I leave any marks?”

“Tiny ones,” I whisper against his lips. “Sweet little marks, just perfect.”

He finds the ridges on my flesh and strokes them. “Mm. Just like you.”

In the distance, we hear the sound of approaching voices.

“Shit. Catch you later.” He gives me a final kiss and saunters off down the corridor.

At four p.m., I host a two-hour dance class online for the dancers we’ve hired for the video and start to teach them their choreography. All of them are coming down to Shropshire to rehearse in person this Thursday and Friday, and I want them to have a good grasp on the steps before we work on it as a troupe.

They pick it up quickly and I’m exhausted and smiling by the time I wave goodbye to everyone and end the meeting.

After a shower and a change of clothes, I grab some dinner for myself from the empty dining room and then head out for a walk in the dusk. The house is quiet and in semi-darkness when I return, but the lights are on in Rush’s studio. I slow to a stop in the corridor. I probably won’t have the chance to see him in private this week, once all the dancers and the rest of his team get here, so I saunter in that direction.

When I poke my head around the door, Rush is sitting bent over a notebook. I call his name softly. “Rush?”

Rush looks up and smiles. Then holds out his hand to me. “Dree. Come sit here.”

He indicates the floor between his feet. I sink down, curling my own under me. Rush leans forward, his hands cupping my face. With his thighs supporting my body and the warmth from his legs, I feel protected from the world.

“How’s that?” he murmurs, stroking his hands gently through my hair.

“So nice,” I sigh, resting my cheek on his knee. “Were you working? I can go if you’re busy.”

“I can do both.” He reaches for his guitar and places it across his lap. There’s room for both the instrument and me, and as he gently plucks the strings and hums, my eyes drift closed. Rush has a beautiful voice, even when he’s singing notes under his breath. Every now and then, I hear the rustle of paper as he makes a note.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, without opening my eyes.

“I’m trying to compose music to go with Ulf’s lyrics.” Rush pauses to tuck my hair behind my ear with a long forefinger.

Just like that, conjuring a tune out of thin air. It seems like magic to me. My whole life revolves around music, but composing is alchemy I don’t understand.

“How do you do it?”

“I don’t really know. I guess I’m hearing music all the time, and I pick out bits and pieces on my guitar during quiet moments. Sometimes I write them down. Sometimes I remember them. The snippets of tunes sometimes come together and I combine them into something bigger.”

“Where did the music for ‘Not Only’ come from?”

Rush laughs softly. “I don’t remember. Isn’t that strange? For some of the other tracks, I know exactly what I was thinking as I composed them. But the others…I became so absorbed the moment the tune comes to me that I completely forget which note came first.” He hums briefly to himself, and then asks, “What about you? When you’re choreographing, where do the movements come from?”

“The music. I close my eyes and see the movements. Sometimes it’s me dancing, sometimes it’s my friends, or the person I’m choreographing. Once I’ve pinpointed the emotions that weave through the music, or the person expressing the music, it just falls into place.”

“So that’s how you came up with the choreography for the video. That’s beautiful.”

Rush hums for a moment, and then puts his guitar aside and hits a few buttons on his laptop. A moment later, music fills the air.

Ulf is giving his everything to a pounding drumbeat. Rush’s vocals are in a low register, giving the track a dark, sexy quality. It’s compelling and a little New Romantic, a lot Music to Fuck To.

I stroke my cheek against Rush’s thigh and he reaches down to rub my scalp with the tips of his fingers.

“This is our second single. What do you think?” he asks, moving the mixer with his other hand and keeping an eye on his laptop.

I watch him from beneath my lashes. “I like it. It makes me want to suck your cock.”

He chuckles darkly, still looking at the screen. “That’s what Daddy likes to hear.”

Tags: Brianna Hale Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net