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CHAPTERELEVEN
Isaac
The second weekof Aurelia’s shows has gone even better than the first, if that’s possible. She’s still buzzing from the meet and greets as we walk back into the villa.
“Did you hear that six-year-old girl, Melanie? Her voice! Oh my word. She sangCrazy Babyperfectly, note for note. And with so much passion and feeling. She’s going to be a star one day.”
“She was only six? I thought she was at least ten.”
“I know, right? It’s astonishing. It makes me want to go work on one of those TV talent shows so I can mentor people like her.”
“Why do you have to go on a show? Can’t you just mentor people anyway?” I say, locking the door behind us.
“I guess I could. I don’t know how I’d go about it though. That’s the kind of thing Chuck would set up for me, but I don’t think he’d go for it. I know what he’d say.”
“And what would that be?” I ask, knowing the answer already and hoping she doesn’t catch my eye roll.
“I need to focus on my own career and not anyone else’s.”
“And do you agree?” I follow her into the living area and try not to watch too closely as she kicks off her post-show sneakers and throws herself on the couch.
The past two weeks have been strange. On the one hand, since our confessions on the deck, it’s been so easy to be around Aurelia. I find myself not missing my old job or the guys much at all, and I look forward to these evenings when it’s just the two of us and we can chat and be ourselves. But, at the same time, I’ve become aware that my eyes have started taking on a life of their own. I sometimes catch myself watching her while she reads or swims or simply wanders around the villa talking on her phone.
I’ve started noticing things about her that I wouldn’t normally pay any attention to on a women under the age of forty. Like the gentle wobble of her breasts, the slender taper of her legs from the thigh to her ankle, the dip of her waist and the hollow of her throat. Some nights I can even see her pulse beneath the delicate skin of her neck and it makes me shiver. I know what it is. I haven’t gotten laid since she arrived. Paris has struck me off her Christmas list and I’m with Aurelia twenty-four-seven.
I can relieve myself, sure, but even that is becoming strange. Until now, whenever I’ve held my cock in my palm, my mind has been filled with visions of Paris, or the women that came before her. But the last few times I’ve fisted myself in the shower, all I can see is Aurelia. And stranger still, it fucking helps. It repulses me, the fact I’m masturbating over a teenager, but when I try to put her out of my mind, I can’t seem to get anywhere. Then, when I succumb, it’s like fucking fireworks. Unbeknown to the popstar sleeping in the next room, I’ve had her kneeling down in front of me, her mouth stretched open by my girth. I’ve had her lying beneath me on the couch, on the deck, on my bed, on the damn stage for crying out loud. I’ve had her bent over the boardwalk gate in the middle of the night, over the kitchen island. Half the time I can’t even look at these places in the daylight without getting hard. And now, despite the fact I am only slightly attracted to Aurelia Bird, I’m struggling to handle myself around her.
“No, I don’t,” she replies, snapping me back to reality. I look away so I don’t ogle her while she stretches her limbs out on the couch. “I don’t think it’s ever too early or too late to help someone else.”
“Well, you are a different beast to your stepfather,” I say, opening the refrigerator to fix us both drinks.
“Are you saying I’m a beast?” I look over my shoulder and see her head popping up over the back of the couch, a look of mock horror on her face. I can’t help but laugh; I love teasing her.
“A friendly one,” I wink.
She shakes her head and disappears. I walk around the couch, looking out at the view. Another reason I’m enjoying being Aurelia’s round-the-clock security is the chance I get to live as though I’m a damn millionaire.
When Aurelia doesn’t take the glass I’m holding out to her, I look round and my pulse quickens.Fuck.She’s flung off the robe she always wears on the way back to the villa, and stripped out of the stage outfit she’d been wearing beneath it. And she’s lying there in a corset and panties, flicking through messages on her phone without a care in the world. As though she isn’t giving me a heart attack right now.
“Here,” I croak, thrusting the glass towards her, almost angrily. Water sloshes over her legs and she jumps up, yelping from the cold.
“Isaac! What the hell?” She wipes the water off her thighs while I stand there like an idiot, unable to drag my eyes away. “That was freezing!”
“I’m sorry,” I splutter, trying hard not to laugh. “It was iced!”
“You’re not kidding.” Her eyes drop to the glass in my other hand, then she reaches for it.
“You’re not having mine,” I tease. “You should have been looking out for your own.”
“Come on, Isaac,” she grins, stepping towards me. I retreat, hitting the coffee table. I twist to stop myself falling, but I lose my balance and grab for Aurelia. The water flies up in the air and we both land sideways on the couch, a little less dry.
“Ha! That’s what you get for being mean,” she laughs, then she opens her eyes and sees my face inches from hers. Her smell is suddenly everywhere and I drink it in, mentally bottling it for the next time I’m alone.
“I… um,” she stutters, pushing herself up.
I follow, heat invading my face. She tries to squeeze past me off the couch but I shift in the wrong direction and she presses a hand down on my cock. After seeing her dressed that way and flicking water from her thighs, I’m hard. Her face jerks up, her expression unreadable, and she withdraws her hand quickly, balling it into a fist.
“God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Fuck. Sorry, Isaac.”
