“I’m going to miss you too. I’m especially going to miss this ass.” He grabbed a handful of my ass cheeks and gave a tight squeeze.
“Well seeing how it’s our last night, we should make it one to remember.” I needed the memory of him touching my skin seared in my brain for quick reference. Edison’s dick hardened at my request. That thing had to be battery powered because with the slightest provocation, it would stand up and wobble like a patron at The Tipsy Owl.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows over his face, that, mixed with the determined longing in his eyes for me, made him look even more devastatingly beautiful. I pressed my palm against his chest, the steady, reliable thump of his heart increased as I rocked over his dick. Outside the downpour thickened with each drop of rain a tiny percussion against the metal. An unpredictable melody would crest and fall, and our bodies worked in concert mimicking the rhythmic cadence of the storm, which blanketed everything beneath it into a peaceful, dreamlike state.
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” I whispered.
Edison caught my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up to his. His lips brushed mine, soft at first, then deeper, asif trying to fuse us together and make this moment stretch on forever. His hand slid down my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The warmth of his body seeping into my skin. I allowed myself to drown into him as his dick drowned in my pussy. Our strokes were paced out and slow in an effort to savor the pleasure and extend our time as far as it would go before reality pulled us apart. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a plea. His mouth traced a path down my neck and shoulder, sending shivers racing through me.
Our kisses were fierce and unrelenting, as if we were trying to defeat the time we would spend apart. The faint taste of his soapy skin lingered on my tongue blending with the warmth of his breath, his kisses were addictive. Edison’s hands gripped my hips, his fingers pressing into my flesh, while my nails dragged lightly against the back of his neck. The sound of our breathing was ragged, echoing against the bedroom walls, punctured by the soft, wet sound of our bodies moving together in perfect, desperate harmony.
When we finally collapsed together, breathless and tangled, I pressed my forehead to his and closed my eyes. “How am I supposed to sleep without you?” I murmured, my fingers idly tracing patterns over his skin.
He took a long, thoughtful breath before sighing it out, his grasp tightening like he didn’t want to let me go. “I’ll meet you in your dreams.” His lips ghosted over mine in a final lingering kiss. And I knew he was right. I’d dream of this, of him, until we were back in each other’s arms.
When I returnedto LA I only had days before we were set to hit the road with a prep list a mile long. There were fittings, photos shoots, and rehearsals. Meetings with my lawyer, agent, and new manager, Rochelle Givens. Rochelle was highly recommended, and I felt confident she’d be able to take my career sans Whiskey Wild to the next level. Moniece was a godsend; she was able to locate a realtor to begin the process of listing the condo. At the end of this tour, I wanted to be done with LA and this chaotic chapter of my life.
On top of all that, before the first show, our respective managers recommended a sit-down conversation with a professional therapist. Darla was still being managed by Chap; it made sense he would push for this. Neither of them believed I had the balls to truly walk away. I wanted to decline, but Rochelle was also pro therapy, suggesting hashing out our differences could help to make the touring experience less stressful.
In a home tucked away in Highland Park, we met with Dr. Alvin Sims, but he preferred to be called Dr. Al. I was only here because the label expressed concerns about our deterioratingrelationship and the potential effect it could have on the brand. But I was a professional, I could hate your guts and still put on a show.
“So, what brings you two in today?” Dr. Al asked. Neither Darla nor I ventured to answer. We hadn’t spoken to one another in weeks, and no one wanted to be the first to break the stalemate. “Okay, let me try this again. Francesca why are you here?”
“I’m here so I don’t get fired, sued, or blackballed.”
“Darla same question.”
“Unlike Fancy, I genuinely want to work through our problems.”
“She can say that because she wasn’t the one who was betrayed.”
“Grow up, Fancy.”
“Shut up, Darla.”
Dr. Al raised a hand signaling for silence. “So, there is clearly acrimony. What caused you two to end up in this place?”
“Do you want to tell him? Or are you going to continue to play the victim?”
“Fancy and her boyfriend broke up and now he and I are dating.”
Dr. Al looked at me.
“What?”
“Do you have any thoughts on what Darla said?”
“Yeah, she’s a liar. This is about cheating. She smiled in my face all the while plotting behind my back.”
“Are you saying Darla cheated on you?”
“Pretty much, she crept around with my boyfriend at the time and never told me. I had to find out from someone else.”
“It all happened really fast. We were going to tell you.”
“It was months.”
“You’re just mad because Chap chose me.”
