Page 65 of Sunrise Arrows

Each day they whisper through my head, growing in volume the longer I have to pretend to be unaffected.

But as my doubt mounts and the day becomes too much, leaving me wondering if I should pack my bags and leave, Tinsley is there.

Every evening before dinner, when I’m in the bathroom staring down my breaking point, she kneels between my legs, her hands rubbing friction up and down the tops of my thighs, banishing the anxiousness from inside me. Some nights she sits with me in silence and others she softly sings to me, coaxing out opinions on lyrics and sounds she’s playing with until I’m distracted and calm. Then when the suffocating grip over my mind and lungs releases, she crawls into my lap and kisses me between murmured reminders of how much she loves me exactly as I am. And when I lift her up and carry her to bed, stripping us down and sliding home inside her, I’m reminded of just how perfect we are together and of every reason I have to stay and fight through the doubt that’s been inflated inside me.

* * *

Tinsley standsin the center of my office—which is sparsely decorated with only my singular photo of her and her framed lyrics decorating the desk—wearing a white bikini, her hair in two braided pigtails, and my old Vanderbilt hat on her head. She’s barefoot and smells like coconut sunscreen, and knowing that the tiny bikini she wears is showing off her tattoo with my name, it takes everything I have not to toss my laptop on the loveseat in the room, lift her onto the desk, and rip the ties at her hips free—even more so when she slams a half eaten pint sized container of strawberries down on the desk and points to the corner of the room where Mikey is getting up on a ladder.

“I mean it! I want them out of here. This is his home and this room is his sanctuary. He hates the cameras in the house but tolerates them without complaint. But this is Archer's space; I won’t let y’all infringe on him here. I want themgone.”

She turns around and like I knew, the charcoal gray ink can be seen running along the triangle of her bathing suit top, driving me insane. That and how she’s normally so easy going with whatever Mikey and John request of her but is feral going toe to toe with them over making sure I’m at ease in her home hasmeturning feral.

Closing the distance in two long steps as she greets me, I drop my laptop on the desk and bend down to throw her over my shoulder, taking her out the glass doors to the pool, nipping the firm jiggle of her butt as she squeals.

Outside, I unceremoniously drop her into the deep end of the pool, and as the water splashes and waves with her impact, I take off my shirt and step out of my jeans, tossing my glasses onto a lounger, and jump in after her. We kick up to the surface, her top askew and my hat missing from her head, and she swims toward me. Leaning back to float, I pull her through the water so she lays over me, arms around my neck as I lazily tread the water to keep us up.

“Hi,” she giggles, her eyes bright and smile wide.

I play with the string of her top, slowly pulling at the knot and greet in return, “Hi.” With it loose but still around her neck, I trace my fingers along the curve of her breast, showing each intricate detail attention. “How was your morning?”

“Better now that I’m with you.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I tease, brushing my thumb over her nipple. “Jullian is such a joy to be around.”

She pushes her pretty tits into my hand, a shiver drawing her shoulders in tight as a dreamy smile graces her lips. A soft sigh slips loose and she closes the narrowing gap between our mouths, my feet finding a place I can touch just in time for her to wrap her legs around me.

“He’s an ass,” she confirms, eyes falling closed when my hand engulfs her small swell. “But he gets results.”

“And those are?”

“Making sure I have the stamina to perform forty shows over ten weeks.”

“That’s a lot,” I hum, guiding us to the edge.

I turn Tinsley around and lift her so she’s partially out of the pool, my pelvis lined up with her ass. With my hips, I hold her in place and trail my fingers down her sternum and along her abdomen before delving into her bikini bottoms.

My fingers part her pussy and I murmur, “You’re soaked, baby.”

“Mmm, the water,” she tries to deflect over her gentle moan.

I kiss her shoulder blade, my fingers teasing along her opening and up to her clit. “If you say so.”

She says my name in a breathy plea, her arms stretching across the pool deck and her head lulling to the side. Tipping a single finger inside her, she lets out a whining keen, her hips working to further impale herself on me.

Slowly I tease and work her up, my thumb brushing along her clit with every curl of my finger inside her plush walls.

She says my name again when I add a second finger. Over her shoulder she looks at me, her eyes delirious with lust. Her pink lips are parted and with every thrust and stroke of my fingers, she grows more and more limp, until she’s pliant with pleasure in my arms, waiting for me to push her into euphoria.

Holding her tight against the wall, I bring my other hand up to her left breast and resume playing with her nipple, timing each touch and gentle pinch with what I’m doing to her clit.

Her walls flutter around my fingers, and her desperate sounds and wondrous whispers of my name grow incoherent and rise in volume until she’s biting on her arm to quiet herself. Her pussy grows tighter, further soaking my hand, and her body starts to turn rigid like a strung bow.

Releasing her breast, I collar her with my hand.

Briefly, I debate gifting her one—something discreet that she could wear full time—but dismiss it just as quickly. I enjoy the feel of her pulse beneath my fingers and the look of my hand wrapped around her slender neck too much to put something else there.

Using my hold on her throat, I pull her so her back arches and her head turns toward me, my mouth coming down on hers just as she comes on my fingers, smothering her scream.

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