I smirk.
“Hmm. The real stuff like wanting to sample the goods of a hooker you saw on a wannabe wanker’s phone screen?”
I adore how he peppers kisses across my cheek with his thick, wet lips.
“Good job your Agency are such a great security team for you, or you’d be subject to the same kind of queue.”
“Ha. Hardly. But seriously, I’m grateful,” I tell him. “It’s hot to be wanted enough to have to scout through my proposals inbox. A lot of them make me horny as fuck.”
“I’m glad you chose mine.”
“How could I ever turn it down? You’re in the six-figure bracket. That’s horny as fuck in itself.”
He lets out a deep breath, pitting his brows.
“You’re selling yourself short again, fuck-doll. I was testing the water. Add another zero on that figure and show your pretty girl face to the world, proud and free.”
The idea of being in the spotlight gives me jitters down deep, so I switch the focus to his spotlight instead.
“Do you have a music room here?” I ask.
“That’s kinda a given, don’t you think? A music room, recording studio, grand piano I can’t even play. You name it, I got it.”
My cheeks hurt from grinning.
“Can we take a few minutes for a private performance? Please? It’smewho should be payingyouseven figures for that.”
“Let’s barter. I’ll give you a performance if you give me one as I do it. I sing, you strip for me, fuck-doll. Do we have a deal?”
I shake his clammy, wet hand.
“It’s a deal.”
“Then let me lead the way.”
I readjust my sopping panties once I’m back on my feet, tugging down my latex dress and hoisting the straps back up over my shoulders to cover my tits. I slick back my dripping hair, and sashay my hips in prep for the walk as Vinnie grabs another bottle of De Chante from the fridge. And then we’re off. He gestures me on in front of him, and I look around in astonishment at the sheer scale of his manor as we make our way to the performance.
This place has everything from neons, to strobes, to street art, to framed classics and antique stained glass windows. He points out a room off to the right which is nothing but darkness. I can’t see a thing inside. It’s like a black hole.
“It doesn’t have a light or any windows,” he tells me. “That’s my thinking room. Where I let any demons out to play.”
“Demons?”
“We all have them, fuck-doll. I like to see mine in full view, warts an’ all, and then I’ll either tell them to get fucked and send them on their way, or give them a space in my song lyrics.”
I flash him a grin over my shoulder.
“What about the angels? We all have angels, too.”
“I’ve got one right in front of me, I reckon.”
“I’m not exactly an angel, rock god.” My heart is thumping to a crazy beat. I look at him with adoration. “For real, what do you do with the angels? You have angels as well as demons, I know that. We all do.”
He takes hold of my throat, planting a kiss on my jawline.
“I keep them for the high notes, and set them free. I value the angels just as much as the demons. Sometimes they scream the loudest.”
His words touch me, and I get it. So many of his tracks have those lines. Ones that hit me right in the ribs. They come in at the most unexpected places sometimes, heart to heart, like the vocals are slamming into my very core.
