Page 79 of Songbird
“Keep going,” I tell her. “Play the guitar while I play you.”
Rosie moans lightly, but she starts again, this time with a song I know too well. It’s the song we wrote together on my cabin porch. As I move my lips over her shoulders, I slip a hand around to squeeze her breast, then pluck at a nipple already hard with arousal. And when our song shifts into its second verse, I hum my part against her skin, setting off chills in her body.
Rosie whimpers as she drops her head back against my chest, but she doesn’t stop playing even as she sinks against me and spreads her legs. The lamplight warms her skin with an orangeglow, and I skate my palm down her stomach to dip my fingers into her panties, seeking her clit and finding her already wet.
I mimic the press of her fingers on the fretwork with pulses of my fingertips on her clit, then glide through her wetness until the song she’s playing falls apart and she’s squirming against my hard-on. Still, I play her, my fingers strumming her pussy and my lips swirling notes and lyrics over her shoulders. My dick is rock hard and I’m starting to sweat, but I’m enjoying our shared desperation too much to end it. As long as we’re teetering on the edge like this, I can make myself believe that whatever we want in life will come as easy to us as how perfectly we fit together in music and in bed.
“Please, Finn.” Rosie sets the guitar aside and digs her nails into the muscle of my thighs. “I need you inside me.”
“I don’t want this to end,” I whisper as I roll her swollen clit between my fingertips. “I’m obsessed with the pain of wanting you.”
“And I’m obsessed with the pleasure of having you.” Her head tosses and her breath is short as I tease her with the tip of my finger slipped inside her core. “So let me sit on you. Now.”
I growl at her bossiness, then wrap my hands around her waist to lift her off the sofa long enough to drag my underwear over my cock. I settle her on me, sliding into her from behind, taking it easy to get the angle right but not stopping till I’m all the way in and she’s riding me like a fucking cowgirl.
Rosie’s hips swivel and grind down against me, and within moments my thighs are soaked with her arousal. I cup her tits, tugging at her nipples hard enough to make her moan, and meet the frantic bucks of her hips with slapping pumps of my own. I draw in a shuddering breath at the tight, wet heat of her pussy, and my orgasm gathers, tension building and balls tightening while Rosie uses my cock like I’m some kind of sex toy.
“I’m almost there,” she says as I swell inside her. “I’m so close.”
I reach around and set my fingers to her clit, stroking and strumming until she cries out. Too late, I cover her mouth with my hand, and an urgent knock sounds on the suite door.
“Are you all right in there, Miss Thorne?” Tareq shouts from the other side.
“Fuck,” I grunt as my orgasm bears down and Rosie tears my palm from her face.
“Yes!” she screams as her pussy clamps down around my dick and we both tumble into ecstasy. “Yes. Yes. Yes!”
thirty
Rosalie
FirstthingMondaymorning,I have a meeting with reps from my record label. They want to hear my new music, and they’re bringing in a hot new producer who recently worked magic with a debut artist who’s been labeled as the pop scene’s Next Big Thing. A couple of years ago, Chip would have made me feel insecure about a younger, prettier, more talented singer-songwriter snapping at my heels, but now all I feel is compassion. I hope she has a good support system so she isn’t broken by the business like I’ve been.
Finn insisted we move the meeting from a studio downtown to the house, where my protection team has more control over my safety. After the way things spun out of control two days ago, I’m not inclined to argue. We’ve cleared everyone but security personnel out to prevent any leaks of my new material, and now I’m loving the home field advantage. It means that when three industry players I’ve never met file into my living room with Pia at their head and the label president bringing up the rear, I hold out my hand and welcome them like they’re supplicants instead of the people who own my art via a multi-million-dollar contract.
Finn hovers at my shoulder and Jarrod stands guard out in the empty hallway while Pia makes the introductions, gesturing at the newcomers one by one.
“Rosalie—you know Louis Wilder, the label president,” she begins.
“Of course. Good to see you, Lou.”
We exchange kisses on the cheek before he holds me at arm’s distance. “You doing all right, kid?” he asks.
His frank concern takes me by surprise. Lou’s always been a little gruff in the past and usually distant, preferring to let his team manage my business, but today his blue eyes are as soft as they are searching.
“I’m doing better than all right,” I reply, and he releases me with a satisfied nod.
“Rosalie—this is Cynthia Graham,” Pia says next. “She’s your new A&R rep.”
One of my requests when I cut Chip out of my business model was booting the Artist & Repertoire rep I’d worked with for years. He and Chip are good friends, having developed a long list of talent together, and I’m uncomfortable with him in my inner circle. Cynthia is a tall, thin blonde woman with cool hands and warm gray eyes, and I get a good vibe from her straightaway.
“This is Nya Young from the marketing and promotion team,” Pia goes on, pointing to the gorgeous Black woman barely an inch taller than me. She looks nervous, and I take her hand with a reassuring smile.
Pia waves toward the last person without a name to his face. “And this is Zane Petty. He’s the producer I was telling you about.”
“I remember.” I shake Zane’s hand and wonder just how much younger he is than me, since I’m only twenty-seven. “It’s great to meet you.”
“It’s a real thrill to meet you,” he replies. “Pia tells us you’ve got new material to share?”
