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Better than being on stage as the roar of the crowd and their adulation washes over me.
Being with Cove is the realization of a dream I never even knew I had. But now I do.
And I’m never letting her go.
“Need you to come,” I grit out through my teeth. “Coat my cock with your sweet juices then I’ll give your needy pussy all my cum.”
My woman’s back arches as I reach between us and pinch her clit. The way her walls clamp down on my shaft has my vision going white and my entire body tingling. The burning in my lungs as we come together reminds me to take a breath as my ears start to ring.
We’re both panting harshly as we cling to each other and float.
CHAPTER 8
LANGSTON
As we listen to the playback on one of the songs we’re recording, even though it’s still on the rough side, and we’re far from studio technicians, I can’t help but smile as I think about the last week with Cove. I’ve experienced some of the best moments of my life with her.
We’ve talked about so many fucking things. We’ve allowed ourselves to be vulnerable and open. We’ve made music. We’ve made love and found passion.
How could that be anything less than an impossible dream come true?
That first night after we finally let all the tension, all the worries, all the things holding us back fall to the ground and we came together, we spent hours in each other’s arms. Did I bury myself in her again and again? You better fucking believe it. Even though it was amazing, it was the moments between, when we talked, that have reverberated in the depths of my soul.
My hand was gliding up and down her back when I suddenly asked, “Why aren’t you with a band working on songs for an album instead of being here with me helping with a comeback that might never happen?”
She blinked up at me, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’ve always been about the music,” she started, her eyebrows pulling together like she was looking for the right words. “I’ve never really been interested in being on stage.” She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, vulnerability shining in her blue eyes as her voice dropped to a whisper, “Being on stage scares the hell out of me.”
Then it was my turn for my eyebrows to pull together. “Didn’t SO find you because you put your music out on social media?”
“That’s different,” she insisted even though I wasn’t so sure. “I didn’t have to look out into the crowd to do that. It was just me in my bedroom playing my songs in the hope that someone would take notice because I didn’t know any other way to get my stuff out there. I was hoping for a miracle. It’s not like a lot of label scouts are in nowhere Montana looking for a songwriter,” she joked.
I nodded slowly, understanding her fear. My heart thudded in my chest as I readied myself to share with her something I’d never told anyone before, not even Conley. “What to know a secret?”
One of Cove’s eyebrows arched in question, her tone solemn and serious, “You can tell me anything, Langston. Your secrets are safe with me.”
A solid part of myself, a piece I had walled off a long time ago, one that never allowed myself to let anyone all the way into my soul before, melted with her vow. “I know,” I murmured and kissed her forehead. With a deep breath, I let the truth tumble from me, “Getting on stage scared the hell out of me too.”
She reared back and her mouth hung open. “What? No,” she exclaimed.
“It’s true,” I tried to play off my confession as no big deal, even though I knew it was. “I’m sure I’m not the only performer who feels that way, but it was always really difficult for me to step out on stage every single time. Maybe that’s why it was easy to fall into drinking and drugs,” I mused, “because it helped give me the semblance of courage. And I wasn’t going to let Conley down. We had this dream and part of making it happen was going out on stage and playing. I,” my voice broke, and I cleared my throat before trying again, “I haven’t been on stage since he died.”
My woman’s eyes softened in understanding, but I didn’t see pity there. Only compassion. Only adoration. Only love.
The muscles in my body tightened as I realized, with her love shining on me, I had fallen in love with my Songstress. Did it happen the moment I saw her? Did it happen slowly as we worked together, the music fusing us into something I wasn’t going to ever be able to walk away from?
I shook it off, afraid that she wasn’t ready to hear such a big confession. Not yet anyway.
“Do you not want to perform anymore?”
Her question was spoken softly into the silence between us, but it struck me like a fucking battering ram. Did I? I hadn’t stopped long enough to even consider if I did or not.
Yes, I was always scared to step out on stage. I did it for Conley even more than myself. But, did I want to give it up? Wouldn’t now be the perfect time to do so? Without ever trying to revive a career I drove into the ground through grief and my own actions?
“I think,” I started, trying to puzzle through my own feelings, “I think I want to try?” Cove watched me without judgement in her eyes; she simply gave me space to feel, to muddle through. “Part of me feels like I owe it to Conley, to not allow his death to end his legacy.”
Cove smiled at me, pride lining her features. “You owe it to yourself too, Langston. In many ways your life was ripped away from you.”
“No,” I tried to correct her, “my actions were at fault. I could have tried to bounce back after Conley’s death. The label wanted to keep me on, but I was more interested in self-destruction than the music.”
