“Nothing could ever stop this feeling. Nothing could ever make me hate. Nothing could ever stop this feeling…”
He leaps off the stage, landing in a deft squat, and then strides over to me, as the music blares, matching the tempo of my heart.
“You can’t tell me this isn’t fate,” he growls. “You can’t tell me this wasn’t meant to be. Meant to be, meant to be… The rest of the world can go to hell. Because I’m in heaven, with my perfect Billie.”
He stops, dropping his hands, as the music begins to wind down.
“That’s as far as I got.” He smirks. “Did you like—”
I don’t wait for a response to come.
Instead, I jump to my feet and throw myself into his arms, leaping off my feet as the emotions become too much to handle.
I think I’ve made a mistake – surely he won’t be able to carry me – but then he grabs onto my ass and grips me tight. I wrap my legs around him, our lips seeking each other out as they always do. He growls and spins, carrying me over to the stage, he sets me down.
His crotch pressed against mine, his manhood solid against my sex, even though the fabric of my jeans.
We begin to rock together, his thick length grinding up and down my pussy, teasing and tantalizing.
“Like is an understatement,” I whisper, as we stare into each other’s eyes, as his blaze just like his name. “That was amazing.”
“I wanted to produce a whole song,” he says. “But it’s been so difficult to work lately. Thinking about you, my sweet virgin, it’s a full-time occupation.”
“Should I feel guilty, then?” I banter.
“Never feel guilty for being so beautiful and sexy.”
We stay like that for a time, my arms around his shoulders, his hands casually resting on my hips.
“I love your hips,” he says fiercely.
“Really?”
“I love everything about your body. Your thick thighs and your round ass and your big beautiful breasts. But your hips drive me especially crazy. They’re so wide like they were made for childbirth. Like you were brought into this world to gift me with a family.”
I grab onto his chest, digging my nails in through his shirt. “Maybe I was.”
“But not just that,” he goes on.
“No?”
He leans back slightly, his smirk faltering.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“I want you to sing for me,” he says. “I won’t force you. But I don’t think you should let that bastard bully Clay and his cackling hyenas steal your passion. You told me you’ve wanted to be a singer since you were a kid.”
“It’s true,” I whisper. “But I can’t, Aaron. Every time I try to sing in front of other people – even my friend, Penny, even mom and dad – I just seize up. All I can hear is the way they laughed at me. All I can see is them pointing their fingers, mocking me.”
“Like I said, I won’t force you. But I’d consider it a tragedy if I never got to hear your voice.”
“What if I’m terrible?”
“I don’t think you will be,” he says fiercely.
“Based on what?”
“Call it instinct,” he says, voice stern. “Which hasn’t led me wrong so far. Just look at us. Look at the magical and amazing thing that’s happening here.”
I raise my hands to his face, my smile spreading widely. “I never thought I’d hear Aaron Blaze talking about fate, about magic.”
“There’s lots I wouldn’t be able to do without you.”
I prepare to hop down from the stage. Aaron sees what I’m doing and catches me, lowering me to the floor.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how weightless you make me feel.”
“And I’ll never get bored of carrying you.”
I sigh, glancing up at the stage, at the microphone. “I can’t do a whole song. Maybe a few lines? But don’t be surprised if I can’t.”
He nods. “I’m not going to rush you. Trying is enough.”
I walk around to the edge of the stage, take the steps, and approach the microphone stand. Aaron leans forward, handing me the mic, and I bend down and take it from him. Our fingertips brush and a heat rushes through my body, ignited by the barest contact.
Standing, I hold the mic to my lips, taking a deep breath. The microphone whines and my breath travels around the theater.
I look down at Aaron.
He’s staring up at me, eyes shining with support.
Feeling like I might be sick, I start singing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Aaron
She starts slowly at first, getting to the end of a verse, and then stops, biting her lip as she looks down at me. I hope she can read the supportiveness in my eyes.
I hope she can sense that I’d never let Clay or his type hurt her again.
Pausing, she closes her eyes, and then she opens them and starts properly.
“I never knew who I could be,” she sings, and her voice trembles a tiny bit, faltering at the end…