I know what you want, and I know exactly how to give it to you...
It's why I've got a row of platinum records on my wall and girls lining up for a shot at fame. I'm the best. Now I just need to prove it.
The bet is simple: take a nobody and make her a star. I just didn't bet on HER.
She's not some wannabe, she's the real deal.
But fuck it, I want her. And I always come out on top.
“You’re thinking too much. Don’t think.”
A blush creeps across her cheeks and she drops her eyes again. I brush her hair away from her face and let my hand rest on her neck as I slowly move in closer. Her trembling lips steady themselves on mine, softly settling against my mouth. Our breaths mingle, tongues gently tickling at the insides of each other’s lips. I press further, wanting to kiss away all the shakes in her body, to let her thoughts disappear in the heat of our mouths. Her hand presses against my shirt, splayed fingers tentatively tracing the hardness of my chest, before pushing me away from her.
“Brando…” she whispers, her eyes still closed, her mouth still wet. “I think I just need…”
“Tell me what you need,” I coax her.
“I need…” She opens her eyes, and I already know what she’s about to say. “You.”
This is the most restrained I’ve ever been. Every muscle memory in my body wants to tear her clothes off, the look in her lidded eyes all I need to know she wants this – even more than I do. Hours spent around her blossomed lips, her hidden breasts, her slender thighs, hours of caging up my lust for her in pursuit of another goal has made it grow, big and fearsome. Now that the cage is open, it’s taking all of my reserve to stop it from taking me over. I need this to be slow – this is for her.
“I know how to make you sing, Haley,” I growl in short breaths. My hand goes to the inside of her thigh, pressing itself against the front of her jeans. “I can make you sing better than you’ve ever sung before.”
I have the buttons undone in seconds. Warm, strong, fingers teasingly reaching into the lip of her panties. Her head goes back, eyes closed as she starts panting at the ceiling.
“Wait!” she says, snapping back, her hand on my wrist. “I don’t understand what’s happening between us, Brando. Is this about me? Or is this about music?”
I kneel in front of her, slowly pulling down her jeans.
“It’s about music,” I say, kissing her moistening pussy through the soft cotton of her panties. “It’s always about music.”
She replies by moaning softly and grabbing the back of my head as I run my tongue down the inside of her thigh, letting my stubble softly tickle her pale, sensitive skin.