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“What do you think?”
“Only you, baby, only you,” I sang back to her as I cupped her face and smiled.
Leaning in, our foreheads touched before I brushed my lips against hers. Tonight was the night. I was sure of this. But music could also bind us. This was important to her, so I wanted to show her it was important to me too.
“Can I?” I asked, holding out my hand for the guitar. She pulled the strap over her head and held it out to me. Swinging it over my shoulder, I strummed her chords and quickly fell into the song, humming the lyrics I could remember as she picked it up quickly.
We sang together with abandon, letting the trees be our audience. It had been a long time since music was this carefree and heartfelt. Success came at a price that meant working on stuff that would sell and not necessarily have your heart in it. Every so often, I spent a pocket of time on a project that touched a part of my soul longing for this kind of creativity, but it was few and far between.
But just like everything with Bexley, this was carefree and intense. It still needed work, but this would be a hit. I could feel it.
Not just the song—her and I too.
Chapter12
Bexley
I’d never heardBastian sing until now, but his voice was beautiful. A natural countertenor, gravelly and soulful, it did things to me I could no longer ignore. Reaching for the neck of the guitar, I eased it over his head before moving next to him.
“Only you,” I whisper-sang as I crawled into his lap. My fingers ghosted along the sides of his face before pulling his lips to mine.
“Only you,” he answered before his mouth collided with mine, his tongue wasting no time as it slid along my lower lip, begging for entry. He stroked the roof of my mouth, sending a flurry of butterflies through my body as my fingers tightened on the back of his head. My hips ground into his, feeling the rock-hard bulge between us.
Even though he’d offered for this to happen on the first night we were together, the chance to do it hadn’t come up again since his parents’ arrival. This was our first opportunity for alone time, and I wasn’t going to waste it. I wanted to get him naked and get my hands all over his dad bod.
“Take your shirt off.” He pulled back to give the command, the heat in his eyes hotter than the flames behind us. His hands skimmed along my thighs, the touch of him feeling like he left a trail of lava behind.
My stomach knotted with excitement as I gripped the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head.
“Slower,” he said firmly, “I don’t want to rush this. We’ll never get another first like this, so I want to enjoy every moment.” He reached out and ghosted his fingertips along my belly, guiding the way up my chest as he drew a line between my breasts before cupping my neck. I tugged the shirt over my head slower like he asked before tossing it away and returning my gaze to his admiring expression.
“Take your bra off.” His fingers flexed around my throat, his grip firm but not painful. Honestly, the thrill of it sent flutters through me that felt forbidden. I was wearing a front latch and held eye contact as I slowly eased the metal apart and let the cups fall open. Compared to what he likely saw in Hollywood, my B cups were unimpressive, and I suddenly felt self-conscious about them.
“Tease your nipples for me,” he whispered, his voice raw with barely contained self-control, and the idea I was making him struggle to stay together floated all ideas of being insecure away. After shrugging the straps off and losing the bra to the ground, I cupped my breasts and traced each nipple with a slow circle until they tightened into deep pink peaks begging for attention.
It was my turn to make demands. “Suck them, and don’t bother being gentle.” He flashed me a grin as if to say, ‘thought you’d never ask,’ and then leaned in, wrapping his lips around one. His teeth scraped along the peaked, sensitive flesh, and I crooned, my back arching into his mouth for more.
That wasn’t the only reaction as a rush of heat flooded through me, pooling in my panties that now were discernably wet. He may want to go slow and savor every minute, but I needed more than his mouth on me now, especially when I knew what he could do with that mouth.
Grabbing one hand from my thigh, I guided it between my legs and found the opening of my shorts, pressing his fingers urgently under the fabric. I needed him to touch me. I needed some relief from this dizzying arousal he was building.
He chuckled, making my breast jiggle as he flicked the abandoned tit teasingly. “Slow, Bex, remember?”
“God, fuck, yes, I remember, but slow is going to kill me. I need you. I need something. The ache is real.”
He grinned, glancing at me but not removing his mouth as he slowly twisted my nipple between his teeth. “The ache will make the best part even better.”
I growled in annoyance because he was right, and I still needed something more. “Okay, well, undress.” I reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, hoping that if I got him naked too, he would have about as much self-control as I did.
“Easy,” he said as he stopped my hand, pulled away from my body, lifted me off his lap, and laid me back on the blanket. “I said I didn’t want to rush it.”
“So, Magic Mike me.” I grinned and reached for my phone, putting on a cover of Pony by Leon Bridges. “More like Magic Clown, isn’t it?” I teased as it took Bastian a moment to realize what song it was, but then he laughed, shaking his head.
“As you wish.” With a roll of his hips that could only be an introduction to what he would be able to do once he was inside of me, he lifted his shirt slowly. He wasn’t ripped, not the way some guys in LA were. His belly was soft but slim, the markings of a man who tried to stay fit but sometimes didn’t have time because he had kids. And I loved every inch of him.
He undid the button of his jeans and eased them down his hips, turning around to stick his ass toward me as he stepped out of them and flashed me a grin from between his legs.
“Woo!” I cheered with a grin, leaning forward to slap his ass as he turned suddenly, and I found myself confronted with the tent pole straining from the front of his boxer briefs. Where the head met fabric, there was a discernable wet spot of precum, and I leaned in for a taste, sucking on his hot, sensitive flesh.
