Page 73 of Chronicles of a Rockin' Mess

I reach down between us with my free hand and begin to make small circles against her sensitive flesh. Her body quakes in response but I keep going until she’s crying out my name and her pussy clenches my cock in a steel grip of release. And that sets me over the edge.

“Lark!” I yell as I pound into her, my rhythm becoming uneven as my orgasm rips through me. I feel a last jolt of pleasure as my orgasm triggers one more from her. She goes limp on my lap, her head resting on my shoulder as we both resurface from our haze of pleasure.

“That was…” She trails off.

“The best damn sex that you’ve ever had?” I ask her.

She laughs. “Uh, considering it’s all been with you, I’m not sure you’re scoring any points there,” she points out.

I grin. “Well, I need to keep upping my game,” I say to her as I waggle my eyebrows.

She leans her head down so that our foreheads touch. “Thanks,” she says.

“For the awesome sex?” I ask, but she’s serious.

“For making me feel beautiful,” she whispers. I smile.

“You should feel beautiful because you are,” I say to her. “Now, let’s get back to work.”

Chapter 30

Lark

My body is tense. Lincoln and I have spent two days perfecting our song. The track was just sent to Roger from Tiffany. And now, I’m about to walk back into the office of the man who put a nail in the coffin of my music career four years ago.

Lincoln holds my hand as Roger’s assistant opens the door to his office. He looks down at me with a warm smile and squeezes my hand. I let out a deep breath as we walk into Roger’s office, right behind Tiffany, who looks ready to do battle.

Roger’s office looks like a record exec’s office. There are platinum albums hung on the wall and Grammys on a shelf. He sits behind a giant modern-looking desk that makes me think of the movie Beetlejuice.

“Come on in,” he beckons us with a single hand. “Can Melodie get you anything to drink?” he asks, motioning to his assistant. Yeah, I have to stifle a laugh at the irony of a woman named Melodie working for a record executive.

“No, we’re good,” Lincoln and Tiffany both answer.

“All good, thanks though,” I add.

“Have a seat then,” Roger insists, and we sit in giant leatherback chairs across from his desk.

“I’ve been listening to your song. It’s…good…catchy,” he says. “Although, I’m curious who sang it with you. I can’t say his voice is up to par. We may want to find another singer if you want to do this as a duet on your album.”

This time, a laugh does escape me because one, he just insulted Lincoln who is sitting right here, and two, he assumes this is a done deal. I see Tiffany bite her lip.

Roger looks at me confused as to why I’m laughing.

“Well, I guess my music career is going to be short-lived,” Lincoln mutters.

I laugh harder but then pull myself together as I see realization dawn on Roger’s face.

“Well, shit. That was you, Lincoln?” he asks in surprise.

Lincoln nods. “That was me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize,” Roger corrects himself as he clears his throat and takes a sip of a drink in some sort of fancy glass-blown mug. “Well, let’s cut to the chase then. Lark, I know I turned you down a few years ago. After seeing you at the festival, and I don’t say this lightly, I think I made a huge mistake…I know I made a huge mistake. I want you on our label. Name your price.”

My jaw drops. I certainly wasn’t expecting him to say, “name your price.” I manage to close my mouth. But before I can speak, Tiffany does.

“Lark is hugely talented, Roger. She won’t take less than eighteen percent,” Tiffany says, talking about the standard royalties offered to the artist by major record labels.

“Well now, Tiffany, while I am certain Lark will be a big hit, she’s new. I can’t possibly go in at eighteen percent,” he says.

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