starkly against her sweaty skin. “You think it's cool to spy on me?” Naomi's eyes flicker down to the floor for a moment before she refocuses them back on my face. I embarrassed her. Don't know how. Maybe it was the song? It's definitely a new one. A little bittersweet, but I like it. I wonder if that one's about me, too?
“Door was unlocked, sweet stuff,” I say and she rolls her eyes, slipping the black and white Wolfgang off her shoulders and setting it down on the floor. I lean casually against the wall and let a smirk crawl naturally across my lips. I'm Turner Campbell, it's what I do. “Bravo, by the way. That shit was tight.”
“The only thing that's going to be tight is your ass after I shove my guitar up it. Don't do that again.”
“Do what?” I ask as she storms across the room in a fury of blonde hair and pursed lips. Naomi grabs a water bottle off the white table cloth and pops the top, dropping it on the floor by her feet as she tilts the bottle back and downs half the water in a single go. I watch hungrily as her throat moves, tantalizing and teasing, setting my body on fire. Just looking at Naomi makes me so horny that my skin starts to protest the touch of clothing, of fucking air, because it feels too good. I need her fingers on my chest, her tongue tangled with mine, her pussy around my cock. “Admire you? Become a fanboy for your music? Gaze longingly at your ass in those tight fucking jeans?”
“Invade my privacy,” Naomi says, turning around to stare at me. The angry look on her face gives me mad déjà vu, reminding me of that day when she threw my jacket at my chest. How things have changed since then. If someone had told me then that I'd be pledging my dick to this woman for the rest of my life, I'd have laughed in their face. Today, it feels like a fucking privilege. “I thought I was alone.”
I snap my fingers and push away from the wall.
“Yeah, see, and that's why it was so perfect. That's the kind of performance you have to give onstage, like it doesn't matter if everybody's looking because you're pretending nobody is. Like when we're onstage together, Naomi. Just me and you up there, baby.”
“Whatever,” she grumbles, sighing and dropping her tough bitch act down a few notches. The slump of her shoulders tells me a whole lot more than her words. Words lie, especially since we're so in control of what we say. Body language is a hell of a lot harder to fake, running more off basic instincts than anything else. Right now, Naomi's body is telling me that not only is it smoking fucking hot, but also that she's bummed the fuck out. Wish I had words to cheer her up. If I wasn't such an asshole, I bet I could come up with something. “Turner?”
When she says my name, I find myself drawn forward, my fingers twitching, my tongue sliding over my lips. That one word might as well be a come-on.
“Yeah?”
I pause a few, careful inches away. I'd rather sweep my arm across this table and knock the water bottles to the floor, grab Naomi and slam her over the top of it, but you know, you don't fuck with grizzly bears unless you're prepared to deal with the claws. Naomi looks like she's biting back a whole hell of a lot of grr, if you know what I mean.
“Secrets.” The dreaded word falls past her lips and hits the floor like a splash of blood, staining my shoes. I wrinkle my nose and try not to go into full-fledged panic mode. Oh God, no. I can't take another one. My mouth goes dry and my throat constricts in fear. “You're right. You are so right.” Naomi turns away and puts her hands on her lower back, bending over and breathing out a sigh that reaches deep down and cuts off the terror right at the source. That's a sigh of relief, of letting go. A good sigh. Not as good as the ones she'll be breathing out when my cock rams into her and her toes curl into the sheets with pleasure, but, eh, you know. Close enough. Naomi's laugher confuses the shit out of me, but I wait. Like
“Door was unlocked, sweet stuff,” I say and she rolls her eyes, slipping the black and white Wolfgang off her shoulders and setting it down on the floor. I lean casually against the wall and let a smirk crawl naturally across my lips. I'm Turner Campbell, it's what I do. “Bravo, by the way. That shit was tight.”
“The only thing that's going to be tight is your ass after I shove my guitar up it. Don't do that again.”
“Do what?” I ask as she storms across the room in a fury of blonde hair and pursed lips. Naomi grabs a water bottle off the white table cloth and pops the top, dropping it on the floor by her feet as she tilts the bottle back and downs half the water in a single go. I watch hungrily as her throat moves, tantalizing and teasing, setting my body on fire. Just looking at Naomi makes me so horny that my skin starts to protest the touch of clothing, of fucking air, because it feels too good. I need her fingers on my chest, her tongue tangled with mine, her pussy around my cock. “Admire you? Become a fanboy for your music? Gaze longingly at your ass in those tight fucking jeans?”
“Invade my privacy,” Naomi says, turning around to stare at me. The angry look on her face gives me mad déjà vu, reminding me of that day when she threw my jacket at my chest. How things have changed since then. If someone had told me then that I'd be pledging my dick to this woman for the rest of my life, I'd have laughed in their face. Today, it feels like a fucking privilege. “I thought I was alone.”
I snap my fingers and push away from the wall.
“Yeah, see, and that's why it was so perfect. That's the kind of performance you have to give onstage, like it doesn't matter if everybody's looking because you're pretending nobody is. Like when we're onstage together, Naomi. Just me and you up there, baby.”
“Whatever,” she grumbles, sighing and dropping her tough bitch act down a few notches. The slump of her shoulders tells me a whole lot more than her words. Words lie, especially since we're so in control of what we say. Body language is a hell of a lot harder to fake, running more off basic instincts than anything else. Right now, Naomi's body is telling me that not only is it smoking fucking hot, but also that she's bummed the fuck out. Wish I had words to cheer her up. If I wasn't such an asshole, I bet I could come up with something. “Turner?”
When she says my name, I find myself drawn forward, my fingers twitching, my tongue sliding over my lips. That one word might as well be a come-on.
“Yeah?”
I pause a few, careful inches away. I'd rather sweep my arm across this table and knock the water bottles to the floor, grab Naomi and slam her over the top of it, but you know, you don't fuck with grizzly bears unless you're prepared to deal with the claws. Naomi looks like she's biting back a whole hell of a lot of grr, if you know what I mean.
“Secrets.” The dreaded word falls past her lips and hits the floor like a splash of blood, staining my shoes. I wrinkle my nose and try not to go into full-fledged panic mode. Oh God, no. I can't take another one. My mouth goes dry and my throat constricts in fear. “You're right. You are so right.” Naomi turns away and puts her hands on her lower back, bending over and breathing out a sigh that reaches deep down and cuts off the terror right at the source. That's a sigh of relief, of letting go. A good sigh. Not as good as the ones she'll be breathing out when my cock rams into her and her toes curl into the sheets with pleasure, but, eh, you know. Close enough. Naomi's laugher confuses the shit out of me, but I wait. Like
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