Encore (Stereo Hearts Book 2)

by Trevion Burns

  The emotion. After tearing the house down, Yoshi said good-bye to his first sold-out crowd, and his voice trembled as he did.

  Aria clutched the mic stand in front of her, eyes teary as she listened to his heartfelt good-bye. She couldn’t help a smile when the spotlights dancing all over the roaring arena flashed against the lime-green string tied around her left finger, illuminating it just as Yoshi turned and met her eyes.

  And the first tear raced down her cheek. Before she could stop herself, she was clapping for him, slamming her palms together so hard they began to sting.

  “I love you.” His eyes were back on the crowd so quickly that the words he’d just whispered to her would be nearly invisible to the naked eye.

  But she’d seen it. Felt it. Drank it in like water.

  And, for now, it was enough.

  Yoshi moved to the end of the stage, waving good-bye to the left-hand side of the crowd. He did the same for the center and the right-hand side too. Once he’d acknowledged every corner, he raised his hand to the crowd, bouncing sideways towards stage left.

  “Paris, France! It’s been a pleasure… This is a dream come true, thank you so much!”

  The crowd screamed in agony at his departure. In seconds, a chant took hold and grew like wildfire, until the word “Encore!” filled the arena from wall to wall, and became the only thing that existed.

  As he made his way offstage, Yoshi bent down and took a few of the outstretched hands clawing for him.

  A zebra-print thong flew through the air, and when it came to its final destination, Aria found herself rocketed back to the words Adam’s girlfriend, Shaun Green, had said to her a year earlier.

  There really was nothing worse than seeing another woman’s panties land on top of your boyfriend’s head.

  Nothing.

  --

  “Yoshi, they’ll hear us…” Aria’s halfhearted fight was lost the instant Yoshi parted her legs and entered her from behind, her wetness making it easy for him to sink inside. She whimpered, clawing her nails into the white leather below her. Just like that, it no longer mattered that they hadn’t completely closed the door to the bedroom at the back of the private plane. It didn’t matter that Phillip, Gus, and Carmen were all in the front—probably pretending not to hear them. Nothing mattered but the cool leather couch brushing her throbbing nipples, the warmth of his gasps in her ear, and the heart-churning feeling of his dick spreading her in the way only he could.

  “Fuck…” He buried his head into her neck, hiding the pained frown on his face as he got as deep as he could, digging into the couch cushions on either side of her before beginning a slow pound. His moans matched his ardent thrusts, rising in volume as his hips rose in speed. Soon the back of the plane was alive with the sound of their skin smacking together, the heat of their hushed moans, and the scent of their lovemaking, permeating the air and driving him even harder.

  He went into a push-up position, cradled on either side of her naked body, watching her ass bounce as he fucked her, taking thick handfuls of the red throw pillows on either side of her when he felt his orgasm building.

  Collapsing onto her back, he whispered that his release was near, reaching between her body and the couch and sliding his hand down her stomach until his fingers were brushing her slippery clit. Only when she was screaming into the leather below her did he allow himself to finish, firing shot after shot into her slickness as he circled her throbbing bud, hoping she would be right on his heels.

  She was. Her orgasm stole her scream, the way it always did, and she lifted her hips involuntarily, taking his dick even deeper into her folds just as they tightened with the evidence of her release.

  He reached out and grabbed the curved glass cocktail bar situated next to the couch. If it weren’t bolted to the floor, his fierce hold would’ve sent it toppling over. He jammed his eyelids shut at the incredible pleasure of her walls hugging him, burying his head into her hair, letting it collect every scream that split his lips as they finished together. Jerking, pushing, clawing at anything they could get a grip on—the bar, the cup holders, even the coffee table—the couch nearly came unhinged, joining her overturned purse and their clothes scattered on the plane’s floor.

  “Why is it so hard for us to get a shred of work done anymore?” she breathed once they’d collapsed on the couch, spent and trying to collect their breath. She could hardly breathe as he laid all his weight on her, but it was worth the loss of oxygen. “One minute we’re writing a new song and the next….”

  “You know what happens to my dick when it hears you singing my words back to me.”

  “I’ve been singing your words back to you since we were in grade school.”

  “And you have no idea how many socks I ruined in that house on account of you.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t act like you didn’t know. Like my penis wasn’t the first one you ever saw. You think I was whipping that thing out for shits and giggles? I was trying to get you interested, baby. Show you what you were missing.”

  She guffawed. “The only reason I knew what your penis looked like was because you offered to show it to me, and when I responded with disgust, instead of keeping your dick in your pants like a gentleman, you bribed me with bubble mint gum. You bribed me to look at your dick.”

  “But did you take the gum?”

  She pretended not to hear that. “That was basically indecent exposure at age seven. I could’ve had you arrested.”

  “But you took the gum, right? So you were basically a working girl at age seven. I could’ve had you arrested too.”

  “Get your dick out of me right now.”

  He laughed into her hair. “Never.”

  “Mmmm…” If she had more fight, she couldn’t find it, a Cheshire Cat smile on his lips. “Okay, then.”

  “You should feel blessed to have experienced my anaconda at age seven.”

  “The word anaconda is super ambitiou—”

  “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

  “I mean, when you were seven.” She giggled. “That word would’ve been ambitious. Now?” She wiggled her ass from where he was still deep inside her, grinning when he moaned painfully. “Now the word anaconda is very, very appropriate. Perhaps even an understatement.”

  “That’s better.”

  She heard the pout in his voice. “Can we please stop discussing your penis size at age seven? It’s beginning to feel pedophilic.”

  He stayed inside her until he felt himself on the verge of sleep. Regrettably, he left her, holding the small of her back as he pulled out, tossing the condom just as she pushed herself up to her forearms. Her bare ass wiggled as she waved her legs through the air, toes pointed. She lifted her eyes up to his.

  “Seriously,” she pouted, kicking him with her bare foot when he returned to the couch. She giggled when, in the midst of sitting back down, he caught her foot and yanked her to him. “We have to learn how to control ourselves if we’re ever going to get any work done.”

  He used his strength to pull her onto his lap, instantly taking one of her nipples between his teeth, biting softly.

  She dug her fingers into his hair. “We couldn’t even control ourselves long enough to close the door. I’m sure they all just heard us.”

  “You just make me so fucking crazy,” he grumbled. “I can’t think one straight thought when you’re lying around, naked.”

  “But I wasn’t naked. I was lying on the couch in jeans and a tank top. Then you attacked me with your hard-on.”

  He pulled back, meeting her eyes. “Aria. Understand something. Now that I know what you look like naked? You’re always naked.”

  She went to refute, but he jumped in. “When I look back at you onstage, singing behind me in that black leather outfit? You’re naked. When you’re at sound check in a T-shirt dress? Naked. Across the table during after-show dinner? Naked. Walking, talking, breathing, existing? You. Are. Naked. You are always naked, and
that’s why I can’t get a lick of work done.”

  “So I guess my perpetual nakedness is going to be responsible for the downfall of the fastest-growing artist in pop music history?”

  “That, or my next album is going to be very…” He retook her nipple, sucking softly. “Very…” He did the same with the other, then groaned. “X-rated.”

  She gave him a look when he swirled his hips against hers, hardly able to believe what she felt against her backside. “Seriously?”

  “I need you so bad…” He ground his dick, hard again, against her ass, biting his lip.

  She pushed away from him. The truth was she was exhausted. Even with The White Keys, the first show of the tour always left her on edge and unable to sleep. Now that she was the girlfriend of the fastest-growing pop star in the world, however, with bras and panties in every assorted color being launched at him nightly, Aria knew she couldn’t deny Yoshi.

  Not that she wanted to.

  But damn, was she dog-tired.

  When he bit his bottom lip, looking up at her with those big eyes, she rolled her own and pushed off his lap, standing. “Fine, but at least let me close the door.”

  Crossing the room, she got the door shut all the way and locked it for good measure just before he came up behind her and pressed her against the glossy white door.

  When he entered her that time, she made no effort to stay quiet, screaming her pleasure into the wood, dragging her nails into it and clawing them down as they fucked for the second time that morning.

  --

  “Yoshi, to your left!”

  “Yoshi, to the right!”

  “Yoshi, straight ahead, please!”

  His eyes darted from camera to camera, never resting on one lens for longer than a second. Never squinting against one flash for more than a fleeting glance. A smirk lifted his lips at the press photographers’ never-ending string of demands, all shouted in British accents. Even as he did his best to glance at every camera, the screams and requests only grew more fervent. From the corner of his eye, he saw Carmen’s head moving back and forth as well, hanging from his arm in a tight red mini dress. She’d donned blonde extensions for the evening, straight as an arrow, and so long it bushed against his forearm where his hand wrapped around the small of her back.

  He shot her a quick look just in time to see her doing the duck face she loved. Her Instagram was chock full of pictures donning that exact expression. At first, he’d found it utterly ridiculous, but as the days went on, he couldn’t lie, it became more and more adorable to him. He made a mental note to give her shit about it as soon as they got backstage.

  He turned and moved down the red carpet, just a few feet, taking her with him. He drank in the MTV Europe Video Music Awards banner serving as their backdrop. When he came to a stop that time, Carmen stepped in closer.

  He stiffened when she draped her arm around his waist with one hand and cupped his arm with the other, curling her manicured nails around the sleeve of his burgundy suit.

  “Can we see a kiss, Carmen?”

  Carmen obliged, coming to her toes and kissing Yoshi’s cheek. She reached up to wipe his jaw, presumably to remove the bright red lipstick she’d transferred from her smiling mouth to his skin.

  Yoshi was unable to stop his eyes from darting past the press line to the end of the red carpet.

  He caught sight of Aria just as she rolled her eyes and walked off. One of her fellow backup singers followed her out of sight.

  Yoshi cursed under his breath, doing everything he could to collect himself as Carmen rested her head on his shoulder. She was doing it again. Playing her part a bit too close to the edge. Taking things a touch too far.

  Yoshi wasn’t blind to the fact that she only happened to find herself emboldened to play with fire whenever Aria was within her sights.

  Right on cue, the moment Aria disappeared backstage, Carmen removed her grip on Yoshi’s arm, gave him a bit more space, and faced the cameras again. The duck lips returned with a vengeance, and her spine was bent back once more, displaying her svelte frame.

  Yoshi shot Carmen another look, licked his lips, and then returned his focus on the camera flashes. The flashes stung his irises, but instead of blinking, he let it burn.

  A few feet away, a tall brunette woman with fair skin and a black cocktail dress waved him over from behind the press barrier. When Yoshi read the words on her microphone, Access Hollywood, he pulled Carmen towards her.

  The correspondent leaned over the barriers to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She offered him a microphone and didn’t acknowledge Carmen.

  “Yoshi, how are you? You look great, I’m loving the shoes!” The brunette, who Yoshi remembered as Access Hollywood’s Sheryl Lynn, pointed to his black leather shoes with red leather detailing. Par for the course on the press line, she spoke a mile a minute, prepared to spit out any and every question that popped into her head for fear he would be dragged away any second.

  “You like these?” Yoshi stuck his leg out and presented his right foot, turning the shoe every direction so she could see it from all angles.

  Sheryl laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I do, I really do. Edgy. And the red suit? Bold choice. Perfection. Who are you wearing?”

  Yoshi took the flap of his suit and looked down at it, trying to remember the name of the flamboyant man who’d dressed him that night.

  “Ah…” He struggled.

  Carmen’s voice warmed his ear as she pretended to wave at someone over his shoulder, whispering, “Zac Posen.”

  “The incredibly talented Zac Posen.” Yoshi squeezed her waist in silent thanks.

  “Oh, I just love him!” Sheryl beamed.

  “You and me both.” Yoshi smiled. “I don’t really get out much so I figured I do it up big tonight, you know?” Unable to keep his eyes from traveling all over the busy carpet, Yoshi glanced over his shoulder. There was just so much going on; he found it nearly impossible to focus on one thing for too long. From where he was lingering a few feet away, Gus tapped his watch at Sheryl and held up two fingers.

  Seeing that she had two minutes left, Sheryl spoke faster. “So, you’re performing the final number tonight. How are you feeling?”

  “Terrified.” Yoshi nodded, smirking when she burst into laughter. “It’s my first time performing for a crowd that isn’t here to see just me, you know? It’s a little nerve-racking. I’m so blessed, though. I still wake up every morning and can’t believe this is my life. It’s unreal.”

  “Did you always know you’d come this far? From drummer in The White Keys to international solo star?”

  Sensing her flirting with the topic of Adam, his heartbeat picked up. “Honestly, I could only see it getting this big in my wildest dreams. I mean, you hope… you hope for it, but you never really believe it until it’s right in front of you.”

  “I saw a video of you performing as Michael Jackson when you were a kid, and I have to tell you, Yoshi, it’s always been real. Even back then. You’ve always been a star.”

  “Thank you.” He managed to choke out those two words just before his stomach hit the floor. The only other topic that made his stomach roll harder than The White Keys and Sheryl had nailed it right on the head, even if she hadn’t meant to.

  “You were so friggin’ adorable, I just can’t. Dancing around in that black leather outfit Michael wore in ‘Bad.’ And you had those dance moves down to a science—I died!”

  Yoshi’s heart came to a grinding halt. He dragged his hand over his mouth. “So there’s another one? I’ve seen the ‘Thriller’ one but….”

  “There’s another one!” Sheryl beamed. “I saw it this morning, at the studio. They’re planning on airing it tonight. Who shot all these adorable videos of you? Everyone wants to know.”

  Unable to think straight, he clenched his fists, and even when he felt Carmen rubbing his back, he couldn’t focus. His vision went blurry, and everything around him fell away. Before he knew it, h
e was blinking away the tears stinging his eyes.

  Yoshi swallowed, having no clue what to say. Thankfully, Gus swept in and informed Sheryl her time was up, pulling Yoshi away before he had the chance to say something he’d regret.

  “There’s another video?” Yoshi whispered as he and Carmen were whisked away, meeting Gus’s eyes.

  Gus nodded. “Just hit the streets today. We’re still trying to find out where they’re coming from.”

  “They’re coming from my father. The only person who has access to them. Find him.” Yoshi’s eyes went wide.

  “We’re working on it, Yosh. I told you. We’re doing our best to find him, but right now I don’t want you to worry about that. I want you to worry about your performance tonight, the awards you’re nominated for, and Michelle Kit.” Gus pointed over Yoshi’s shoulder.

  And Yoshi turned just in time to lock eyes with Michelle, another correspondent, this time for E! News.

  Yoshi painted a smile on his face as quickly as he could, his arm tightening around Carmen’s waist as he approached Michelle.

  That time, he embraced the correspondent with a genuine heart. In his short time as a solo artist, Michelle Kit had proved to be the most fun and least invasive on the press line.

  “I missed you!” she beamed, her long black ponytail waving in the breeze behind her. She smiled wide, her ebony skin as flawless as always, never betraying her real age. Pushing fifty, she didn’t look a day over twenty-five, proving that black really didn’t crack. Her gold cocktail dress hugged her body like a dream. She kept her arm around Yoshi’s shoulder, angling him and Carmen towards the camera. “Yoshi, how you been?”

  He waited for her to aim her microphone at his mouth. “I’ve been good, I’ve been good.” His voice still shook with the residual emotion from the last interview.