♪ The Like in I Love You by Brian Wilson
Tingles ran up and down my arm from holding it in the same position for too long. A couple hours ago, Izzy had posed my naked form artfully on her bed with the sun streaming in from the window to my right, casting shadows on the rough brick wall behind me. When I first lay down, the sheets were cool against my skin. But as time passed, being naked in front of Izzy heated me. Lying in her bed, with my head on her pillow, I was surrounded by her scent—strawberries and something softer.
She’d arranged my guitar on the bed next to me like a lover. The neck of it resting in the curve of my arm, and the body propped at a slight angle against my thigh. My other arm, she’d draped over the smooth wood and strings possessively.
The concept she was trying to convey with the pose was very accurate for many of the guys I’d met in the industry over the past couple of years. Hell, it had been true for me the past couple of years. Music was my one constant companion, the owner of my heart. But staring at Izzy, I knew it was a lie. Music didn’t own my heart at all. She did. She always had.
Though she kept scolding me, I couldn’t help watching her as she worked. Her body moved fluidly as she transferred what she saw onto the canvas. The tip of her tongue was captured between her teeth as she concentrated on getting each of my features perfect. I couldn’t wait to see the finished piece. To really see how she saw me.
With anyone else, the hours-long silence might be awkward. But not with me and Izzy. I could stare at her all day and not have to say a word. My mind was busy working out lyrics, and my fingers resting on the strings were itching to snatch notes from the air to capture my feelings in this moment of watching Izzy create something beautiful from looking at me. But I knew one twitch might spark her ire. And I didn’t want that.
“If you can hold the pose for just a little longer, we’ll be done for the day. I only have a little longer with the light just right,” Izzy finally whispered, breaking the silence.
“Sure. I think all my limbs are asleep anyway,” I joked.
“Sorry about the long session. I kind of lost track of time. You’re… um…” Her cheeks flushed as her voice trailed off.
“I’m what?” I was curious as to what thoughts were making her blush so furiously.
“Nothing.” Her eyes darted back to her work.
“You can’t do that to me, flutterby. Am I doing something wrong? I swear, I’m trying to be still.” I huffed out a deep breath.
Her gaze flew up to meet mine. “You’re doing fine. More than fine. You’re doing wonderfully. What I was going to say before was you’re a beautiful subject. But I know guys don’t want to be seen as beautiful.” Her skin pinkened even more as her eyes darted away, then back.
“Thank you. If you, a creator of beauty and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, thinks I’m beautiful, then I’ll take it as the highest compliment anyone has ever given me.” I winked at her, then forced myself to shut up before I said anything more revealing. Her head dipped back to the canvas.
After a few more silent moments, she spoke again, “I really appreciate you doing this for me. I can’t thank you enough.”
“You don’t need to thank me. You’ve supported me so much over the years. Posing for you is the very least I could do. I will always be here for you whenever you need me.” And I would. I’d never let her down. Not as a friend or… more if she ever wanted more.
♪ I Will Be There for You by Bon Jovi
“Ditto.” With that one word, she stood and stretched her arms over her head. “Light’s gone. You can move now. I’ll need a few hours tomorrow, and maybe a little more on Sunday.”
I flopped onto my back and stretched my achy limbs. She bent down and scooped my shirt off the floor, then tossed it to me. With one hand I caught it, but I didn’t bother to put it on. She’d seen it all already. She didn’t notice when I got off the bed and strode over to stand behind her. She’d already sat back in front of the easel.
I recognized the look on her face. She was in the zone, dabbing and smudging paint here and there on the canvas with her fingers and the brush in between them. When I yanked my eyes from her and bothered to look at her creation, I was impressed with just how much work she’d managed to get done in the few hours she’d worked on it today.
“Wow,” I whispered.
She turned and shoved me backwards, brush still in hand. “You can’t look at it yet. It’s not ready to be viewed.”
“I think I get special privileges since I’m your muse,” I argued.
♪ (You’re My) Soul and Inspiration by Righteous Brothers
Her hand still rested against my torso. Heat spread from her touch on my skin.
“You didn’t get dressed,” she whispered.
“As an artist, you’re very observant.” I smirked at her.
“Crap, I got paint on you.” Wet, red paint covered several of her fingertips and the tip of the brush.
I took the palette out of her other hand and dabbed my fingers into the puddle of blue before dropping it to the floor. I tapped a dot of paint to her nose. “Oops. Now I got paint on you.”
Laughter exploded from her small frame as she smacked my chest, effectively smearing more paint on me.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” I sunk to my knees in front of where she still perched on her stool. With a shaky finger, I drew music notes on her thigh, right up to where the hem of her cut-offs had ridden up high enough to ignite all my fantasies and memories. My other hand gripped her hip.
Goosebumps peppered her skin beneath the trail of the blue melody I was creating. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Creating something beautiful for you.”
I looked up from where I’d been composing on her skin. Her eyes were filled with heat. And all the words we’d spoken years ago about why we shouldn’t be together evaporated in the inferno raging between us.
“Sing it for me when you finish it?” her words a soft request.
“Always,” I vowed.
I wedged myself between her knees as our lips drifted towards each other. When our lips finally melded together, it was the most intense kiss I’d ever experienced. Izzy and I had shared a lot of kisses over the years. And I’d kissed quite a few groupies in the years since Izzy and I had put ourselves firmly in the friends only zone. None of those kisses ever felt as monumental as this one. This kiss changed everything. Shifted every thought in my mind. Every feeling in my heart. This was it. I just had to figure out how to tell her without scaring her away.
♪ Kiss You by One Direction
“God, I’ve missed you,” I murmured against her lips.
Her fingers gripped my hair as my mouth traveled across her jaw, down her neck, eliciting shivers from her. She tilted her head back, giving me free rein of all that glorious skin. Threading my fingers through her hair, I tilted her head, so I could ravage her mouth again.
As I lost myself in the kiss, my fingers trailed down her abdomen and rested against the heat between her legs. I made a conscious effort to not move things any further without a sign from her. I didn’t have to wait long. Her hips thrusted forward, pressing her center against my palm. The whimpered plea that slipped from her mouth into mine was all the permission I needed. With a musician’s dexterous fingers, I unfastened her shorts and slipped my fingers inside.
The feel of her wet warmth made my cock grow exponentially harder than I already was. The ache was hard to ignore. Until she tilted her hips and started grinding against my hand. Then every conscious and unconscious thought narrowed to her. Just her. Not me or what I wanted or needed. Only ever Izzy. Two fingers sank inside while another slowly circled her clit. A jab of pain went through my shoulder where she held on.
“Lose the paintbrush, baby,” I rumbled against her lips. Her hand disappeared, and I heard her fumbling for the easel. But I didn’t let up with the rhythm I’d set.
“Screw it,” she mumbled against my lips as the brush
clattered to the floor.
“I plan to,” I teased back.
Her body trembled and tensed, letting me know she was getting close.
How could I have forgotten how she felt in my hands? And how could I ever have possibly thought any other girl would feel the same?
A few more concentrated touches, and she crashed over the edge, tearing her lips from mine as she panted. As the tremors subsided, she dropped her head to my shoulder. I continued to stroke her softly.
“I forgot how good that felt,” she breathed into the crook of my neck.
“Forgot how good my fingers feel, or how good an orgasm feels?” I joked huskily.
“Both.”
It had been a while since I’d had my hands on her for more than a hug. But how could she have forgotten how good an orgasm felt? She’d been dating someone just a few months ago. A guy from her economics class in college. I leaned back so I could look her in the face.
“How could you… I mean, you were dating some guy just a few months ago. Didn’t…”
“We didn’t do anything like that. Like, anything, really. Gosh, I don’t want to talk about other guys with you.” She buried her face more deeply in the hollow of my neck.
I chuckled. I didn’t really like thinking about her with other guys either. But I was curious. “How long has it been?”
She pushed away from me and stood up. Turning her back to me, she bent down and picked up the palette I’d discarded earlier. “Years,” she muttered.
“Years?” I asked incredulously. Impossible.
“Yeah. I’ve only ever been with you,” she offered quietly, like it was something to be ashamed of.
“That’s… that’s—” I was at a loss for words.
“Pathetic, I know,” she offered bitterly.
Grabbing her shoulder, I spun her around. “It’s awesome. Knowing that I’m the only one to ever touch you. To ever witness your pleasure. To hear you when you come. That’s an empowering feeling. It makes my heart swell to the point it feels like it’s going to burst.”
♪ Hooked by Dylan Scott
The floor had to be incredibly interesting because she stared at it as if the secrets to world peace and the cure for the common cold were hidden among the carpet fibers, waiting for her to decipher them.
“Hey, don’t be scared of what I feel for you—”
“Oh no,” she cried as she knelt down next to the canvas.
“What’s wrong?” My heart lurched at the despair in her voice. I should’ve kept my feelings to myself. I’d ruined everything. I couldn’t survive without Izzy. Maybe I could convince her to ignore the word vomit I’d just spewed. I could lie and tell her what just happened between us wasn’t monumental for me.
Her choked words interrupted my thoughts, “I messed it up. When I was trying to put the paintbrush down without looking, I must have touched it with my wet finger. See, there’s a red fingerprint in the corner.” She pointed to the corner of the canvas.
Tears welled in her eyes. Leaning down to the paint palette, I touched my finger to the red paint. Then I pressed my fingerprint next to hers, joining them into a heart. “It’s not ruined, see? Now you can put your signature on top of our heart.”
She launched herself into my arms. When I picked her up, she wrapped her legs around my waist, pressing her heat against my crotch. “How do you do that?” She beamed at me.
“Do what?” My brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Always know the perfect thing to say or do?” Her fingers rubbed the beginnings of the scruff on my jaw.
I turned my face, so my lips landed on her fingers. I pressed a kiss to them before turning back to look in her eyes. “Only when it comes to you. And that’s because I know your heart. Inside and out.”
Her fingers traced my face. “I missed your face so much.”
“Me too. Somehow, I managed to forget how much peace I feel when I have you in my arms.” My arms tightened around her. Life had been full of chaos the past couple of years. I needed Izzy’s presence to center and ground me.
She squeezed me tightly. “Sorry, I got paint all over you,” she said as her fingers traced the now dried red smudges on my shoulder and chest.
“I think you should wash it off of me,” I replied with a smirk.
“I can do that. Bathroom’s behind door number one,” she said, pointing.
Walking to the door, I let go of her with one hand and fumbled with the knob. With a curse, I finally got it opened. Two full steps brought me to the middle of her blue bathroom. My eyes rapidly took in the jar of seashells on the shelf and the beach painting on the wall. Turning, I set her on the countertop, then spun to get the hot water flowing. When I turned back around, the lust in her eyes made my heart race.
“See something you like?” I teased to break the tension.
What we were about to do felt colossal. Like it would change everything.
Nibbling on her lower lip, she nodded her head. Her fingers went to the hem of her shirt, and she began exposing her smooth skin, inch by inch. I groaned when her torso was bare, except for her lacey bra. Swallowing the thick lump in my throat, I stepped forward. Wrapping one arm around her waist, I lifted her body, so she could slide her shorts off. She hissed when I planted her naked body back on the cold counter. In a flash, I had her bra tossed off onto the floor. Scooping her up, I turned and took a few steps to the side. She pulled open the glass door, and we stepped inside beneath the pounding hot spray.
I lowered her feet to the tiles but kept my arm anchored around her waist until she was steady on her feet. Winding her hands around my neck, she pulled my head down to marry our mouths. The heat in the kiss rivaled the water scorching down my back. When she’d kissed me dizzy, she stepped back and grabbed her loofah and bodywash. I watched as she squeezed a hefty amount of pink soap onto the springy sponge. After she closed the bottle, she dropped it in the corner.
Keeping her eyes on mine, she began to circle the soft, scratchy puffball on my shoulder. The sweet scent of strawberries filled the steamy air. She had to rub it over the same area multiple times to remove the traces of red paint from my skin. Stepping closer, she dragged the loofah over my chest, erasing the errant marks left in her blissed-out state. Her lips pressed a kiss over my heart, which thundered erratically in my chest. It felt like it wanted to jump out of my body and burrow itself in hers.
♪ All I Ever Needed by Bret Michaels
Her free hand played follow the leader with the tickly poof in her palm. When she stroked the rough material delicately over my cock, the breath froze in my lungs. My already aching member sprung fully to attention. She grasped it, filling her empty hand and stroking it the way she knew drove me crazy. That summer before our senior year, we’d done a lot of touching to learn what each other liked.
“Got to make sure I didn’t get any paint down here,” she said in a teasing tone.
“Yeah, definitely don’t want that,” I answered huskily.
As I stared into her eyes, she dropped to her knees. She wasn’t going to…
Then her mouth was on me. Tentatively. This was one thing we hadn’t explored together. I moaned as I reached for her.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
She looked up at me. “I know that you know what I’m doing. And I know you’re a big fan of blowjobs. Remember, I walked in while you were on the receiving end of one before that gig a year ago when I decided to surprise my best friend with a visit?”
Oh, I definitely remembered it. It was one of our biggest gigs, and Izzy had decided to surprise me with her support. One of our regular groupies, Cleo, had flirted her way backstage before the show and was helping me relax via her mouth on my cock. When Izzy opened the door, I was mortified. Instant deflation as soon as I saw her there, backing out with horror on her face and tears in her eyes. I’d zipped my pants and chased her down. She’d never shown up unannounced backstage again—from then on always giving me plenty of notice so I could get rid of
the hangers-on before she got there.
“Can we not talk about my past escapades while you’re touching me?” I rasped out.
“Hey, I’m not judging you. You’re a rocker. You’re sexy. You’re single. I’m just saying, I know you liked it, and I haven’t ever… um… you know. So, I want to.” Her hand continued to stroke while she explained in a tone of voice far too calm for what her actions were doing to me.
Without another word, her mouth engulfed me, and all my protests died a quick, violent death. My head tipped back of its own accord as I savored her touch. The hot cavern of her mouth was some sort of heaven and hell hybrid. Heaven because no mouth had ever felt better on me, and I’d had my fair share of mouths on me. Hell because I had to stop her.
In a minute.
She was sexy as… I didn’t have a word for it… But her shyness and boldness as she strived to bring me pleasure combined to create the most erotic thing I could envision. My fingers tangled in her pink hair while I enjoyed the caress of her tongue along my length as her mouth swallowed me.
“You’ve got to stop, flutterby,” I panted out.
She pulled back, and I fell out of her mouth with a plop. “Am I doing it wrong?” she whispered with a concerned look on her face.
Hooking my hands beneath her armpits, I pulled her to her feet. With both hands, I cradled her face gently. “Hell no. You’re perfect. But if you keep going, I’m going to come. And the first time I come with you after all this time, I’ll be buried deeply inside of you.”
“Oh,” she breathed out as her face flushed a deep red.
“Yeah, oh,” I mumbled against her lips.
I spun us around, putting her beneath the spray. Then I stooped to grab the bottle of bodywash. I put a dollop on the tip of one of my fingers and began to wash the paint off her nose and cheeks. Our gazes remained locked on each other as I eliminated the random blue streaks from her gorgeous face.
Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1 Page 38