“Oh, I’m hoping you will be…” I say, rolling on top of him.
I turn the shower off and hand Christopher a towel, then grab another for myself. I exit and lift my leg onto the bathtub opposite, next to Christopher’s clothes, and start to dry off.
“God, you’re insatiable,” I say. My cock is still throbbing as I turn to face him.
“Must be something you put in that coffee.” His reflection in the mirror winks back at me.
It’s barely been seven hours since we returned to the room last night, and we’ve already fucked on the couch, twice in thebed, and now in the shower. The last time was even hotter than I had imagined and jerked off to the night we met.
He’d pushed me up against the glass door, pinning my hands to either side of my head, and using his right foot to spread my legs wide apart. After he slid himself inside me, he started pounding away, completely destroying my ass. My cum splattered all over the glass door while the steam engulfed us.
I’m half tempted to drag him into the suite’s meeting room and let him fuck me on the table, then into the walk-in wardrobe to do it again. My mouth goes dry as I imagine him pushing me up against the window and down into the bathtub, but I need to conserve at least some energy for the recording and filming later.
My body is craving him, like I crave alcohol, and I can’t get enough.
“What’s this?” Christopher grabs one of the sheets of paper and holds it up, turning to face me.
“It’s nothing,” I say, grabbing it from his hand. I scoop up the other two sheets and tuck them into the pocket of the bathrobe hanging on the door.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.” His brows arch.
“It’s just some lyric ideas.” I wave him away and wrap the towel around my waist before reaching for my toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Is it about me?” His eyebrows are still arched. He sets his hands on his hips.
Instantly, I feel a burning sensation in my face. Like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. It’s one thing to stand here naked in front of him. It’s another thing entirely to expose my inner thoughts and feelings.
“It is, isn’t it! Am I your muse, like Marilyn Monroe was to Andy Warhol? Like the skater boy to Avril Lavigne?” He pushes at my shoulder playfully.
I ignore him, trying to swallow down the embarrassment, squeezing toothpaste onto my toothbrush and hitting the On button.
“Well, either way. I don’t mind being your muse,” he says, turning and winking at me. “As long as you don’t tear me a new asshole in your songs, like Taylor Swift does to her boyfriends.”
I press stop on the toothbrush.
Did he say boyfriend?
Shit.
Does he want to make this more serious?
Calm down. He was just joking.
“I think you’re the only one round here tearing assholes,” I say, reaching for my prescription bottle. I take out an Adderall and swallow it down whole.
“By the sound of it, I think you enjoyed me tearing it apart.” He grabs my butt cheek.
“I do. But we probably should get ready if you’re going to join me at the studio today.” My body is really hating me right now for not letting Christopher have his way again.
“Oh, I thought you just rocked up at the lobby at twelve?” Christopher scoops up his clothes and walks out.
There was a time when I could do that. Just wake up five minutes before we need to leave, throw on some clothes, and head out. But ever sinceIt’s You That I Needcame out, along with a provocative video of me scantily clad, it’s no longer just fans outside the hotel, but the paparazzi too.
“I wish. But I need to get ready. Styling, hair, and makeup. I use a humidifier to warm up my voice.” I follow him into the bedroom.
“Maybe I should leave you to it,” he says. His face is lowered as he bends over to put on his boxers and jeans. Dejection underlines his words.
“You’ve got some work to do right?” I ask. “Why don’t youhead to your room, then meet me downstairs in the lobby at midday. I’ll message Rob and Paul to let them know you’ll be joining us.” I reach for my phone on the bedside table.
