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He’s like an animal, able to track me down from miles away. It terrifies me in the best way. Because if Grant can find me wherever I am, that means that we are intrinsically connected. Not just by familiarity. But by somethingmuch, much greater.
Grant presses his mouth against my pussy and begins to devour me, lips and tongue roving against my swollen center.
I moan but no sound comes out, hoarse once again. I try to scream in pleasure, but still, nothing comes out.
My mind is determined to remind me that this is a dream. It’s not reality. It will never feel as freeing as the real thing.
Because for the real thing to happen again, that means I’ve shed all fear, all sense of decorum, all respect and loyalty to my father.
For the real thing to happen, I will have had to give into the part of myself I’ve been hiding.
I will have to be satisfied with dreams for now.
Grant laps up my juices, runs his tongue against my clit, humming harder and harder and harder until –
My orgasm wakes me up. I’m sweating so much that I think my air conditioner might have kicked off in the middle of the night. However, I can hear it droning in the background. I kick off the sheets and fall back asleep, trying to ignore a prayer in the back of my mind for Grant to return to my dreams.
* * *
“I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. You look amazing.”
Dre and I have just sat down at our table at the Auras. I brought him as my date. It was the only thing that made sense. After all, I don’t know if I would have gotten to this level of success without him as my trusty, unfettered producer.
He’s right. I do look amazing. The dress fits like a glove, I had my makeup and hair professionally done, and photographers have been eating me up all night.
But here, with all the tables full of talent, it’s hard to not feel like I’m the smallest fish in this big pond.
The Auras bring people from all corners of the entertainment industry together. Actors, writers, musicians, producers. Sky is the limit. To my right is a group of writers from the amazing audio dramaTivoly and Friends,to my left is OpalWest, an indie band whose music I’ve come to adore, and right in front of me is–
Holy shit.
“Harley? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Not a ghost. Much worse. Because straight ahead of us at the table front and center stands Grant Neville. Looking…perfect. Just like always. He’s wearing a tailored suit I bet is more expensive than a month of my apartment’s rent. He isn’t wearing a tie, nothing stodgy. He’s left his tight white button-down undone just enough to expose some of his chest hair. Holy shit, I’d love to just rip it off of him and lick every inch of his body.
I might be tempted to go say hi if not for one glaring issue: he’s pulling out a chair for a woman with her hair swept back in a slick bun, not a singular hair out of place.
My heart drops so low I think it might have just fallen out of my body.
Grant is here. And he’s brought a date.
“No reason,” I say quickly, looking down at the place setting in front of us. “These are nice plates,” I remark.Seriously, Harley? You’re not selling this.
“Oh, shit, there’s Grant!” Dre says.
“What, are you two on a first-name basis?” I ask with a bit too much spit and vinegar.
Dre ignores my comment and starts to get up. “I’m going to go say hi.”
I grab his sportscoat and yank him back into his seat. “Don’t!”
“Jesus! What the fuck, Harley!”
“Sorry, I…” I glance back at Grant and his date. I can tell she’s beautiful just from the back. Older than me probably. More mature. Just like he might want. For…well, not forever, since he doesn’t believe in love. But for now. “He’s with someone. We shouldn’t interrupt.” God, why am I jealous? We aren’t together. Could never be. We both can do whatever and whomever we want.
I can’t ignore that I wanthim,though. Those gorgeous curls, shiny with product and volume, call for me to touch them.
