Dead Serious(10)

By: C.M. Stunich



Naomi takes a step back and shakes her shoulders, spins her guitar around on its strap and catches it, slamming her pick across the strings in time with the refrain. Her voice is like empty glass, liable to shatter at any moment but strong enough to carry a whole host of emotions inside it. It's clear and beautiful, reflecting back the world in perfect distortions. I want to eat that shit up and let it take over my body. From head to toe, I want to absorb Naomi Knox and let her poison my blood. My throat itches to join in with her, sing this song that I've never heard before, but I don't. Can't disturb genius.

I ignore my hardened cock, running my tongue across my lips, letting my eyes take in her tight ass, her trim waist, the strong curve of her backbone.

“I can't deny that I need you. I won't lie that I want you. Dreams are disappointments, but I can't stop hoping that mine will fly. Mine will fly. Mine will fly, oh oh.” Naomi sucks in a massive breath and takes the microphone from its stand, stomping back a few paces and raising her chin to the sky. “Why did I believe things could go my way? When I saw the world without the rose colored glass you gave.” She growls into the microphone and I almost lose my shit, come right in my fucking jeans. That'd be a nice sight for her to see when she finally turns around. Turner fucking Campbell with Goddamn cream sauce all over his pants. Ain't gonna happen. I use my excess energy to rise to my feet, mesmerized. “Why the false hope and the eternal lies? We both know I couldn't do it if I tried, but I can't deny that I need you. I won't lie that I want you. Take my dreams in your hands and let them fly, oh baby, please try. The only thing I've ever wanted to do is cry, but with you by my side, we can see this through. The world might fight, but that's okay.” She drops her voice an octave, lets it whisper like velvet over my eardrums. “That's okay.” The mic slips back in its stand and her hands weave over the guitar's fretboard like she's trying to bring it to orgasm. “That's okay because I don't mind.” Naomi laughs and then jumps when I clap my hands together.

The look on her face when she spins around should, by all rights, fucking see me on the floor with my throat slit. She's not happy.

“What the fuck, Turner?” she snarls, her cheeks pink with a rosy blush. Holy mother of fucking crap. It's not often a girl like this lets her emotions show so plainly for the world to see. Orange-brown eyes sparkle with rage as her fingers curl around the guitar with anger, her body quivering and her tattoos standing out starkly against her sweaty skin. “You think it's cool to spy on me?” Naomi's eyes flicker down to the floor for a moment before she refocuses them back on my face. I embarrassed her. Don't know how. Maybe it was the song? It's definitely a new one. A little bittersweet, but I like it. I wonder if that one's about me, too?

“Door was unlocked, sweet stuff,” I say and she rolls her eyes, slipping the black and white Wolfgang off her shoulders and setting it down on the floor. I lean casually against the wall and let a smirk crawl naturally across my lips. I'm Turner Campbell, it's what I do. “Bravo, by the way. That shit was tight.”

“The only thing that's going to be tight is your ass after I shove my guitar up it. Don't do that again.”

“Do what?” I ask as she storms across the room in a fury of blonde hair and pursed lips. Naomi grabs a water bottle off the white table cloth and pops the top, dropping it on the floor by her feet as she tilts the bottle back and downs half the water in a single go. I watch hungrily as her throat moves, tantalizing and teasing, setting my body on fire. Just looking at Naomi makes me so horny that my skin starts to protest the touch of clothing, of fucking air, because it feels too good. I need her fingers on my chest, her tongue tangled with mine, her pussy around my cock. “Admire you? Become a fanboy for your music? Gaze longingly at your ass in those tight fucking jeans?”

“Invade my privacy,” Naomi says, turning around to stare at me. The angry look on her face gives me mad déjà vu, reminding me of that day when she threw my jacket at my chest. How things have changed since then. If someone had told me then that I'd be pledging my dick to this woman for the rest of my life, I'd have laughed in their face. Today, it feels like a fucking privilege. “I thought I was alone.”

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