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He liked it awkward and savage. The un-photoshopped version, as he’d called it.
“I need to fuck you,” he murmured, his voice vibrating and tickling my inside.
“I need to be inside you the way you’re inside me. So deep I want to peel my skin off just to get rid of you. I need to get rid of you,”
I came hard on his tongue. He flipped me over, and before I had the chance to protest, mounted me, burying his cock between my ass cheeks—completely bare—and sliding up and down.
“Why do you taunt me?” He fisted my hair and pulled me up, making me arch my back. Once my stomach rose from the mattress, he used his other hand to play with one of my tits, pinching my nipple on a hiss.
“Why do you take so much pleasure in driving me mad?”
“Seeing as next time we do this, I’m going to be so balls deep inside you, I’ll be able to tickle your fucking lungs.”
Because when Alex was hurting, he wanted the entire world to hurt with him.
My Alex. My little prince. My fallen star in the dark, dark skies.
“Sounds good. Let’s go there together and make some memories,” I gritted out.
Because I’m tired of your fears. This is our tour. Our album. Our soul.”
The thing about being a compulsive liar is at some point, you don’t stop and think whether what you said is true or not.
But at this point, I knew, we shared a soul. It was inside her...
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“You’re cute when you beg.”
I hooked my finger into her barely existent cleavage and pulled her into me, planting a wet kiss on her smart mouth. “We’ll see who’s going to be doing all the begging tonight.”
lmao
Like our intimacy was a living entity, sitting between us, its warm, ultraviolet rays caressing me softly.
For once, I wasn’t the one talking to my heart, but it was the one talking to Alex. See us. Feel us. Love us. I was no longer able to quiet it down. My heart wanted Alex to love it. The rest of me did, too.
“Midnight Blue,” he whispered. “Illicit and elegant at the very same time.”
AHHH
“I’m an idiot who lost sight of what’s important. I really should be living there, shouldn’t I?”
London was gorgeous and cruel, just like Alex. Too busy. Too hectic. Too brooding. Too dark. Yet I couldn’t help but drink her in like I did Alex. Like I’d finally found the one thing I hadn’t known I was missing.
“I love your London,” I blurted out to the window. “I love that people shoulder past me and avoid eye contact and have a no-bullshit attitude. I love that no one looks the same. I love that it’s rich, but grim. Poor, but classically beautiful. It inspires me.”
“I hate your Los Angeles,” he replied. “I hate how it doesn’t suit you. I hate how it’s flat and sparse and shallow. The agreeable weather and the big-teethed people. You deserve better, Stardust. You deserve to be inspired. All the time.”
“Maybe when it’s all over I’ll travel from planet to planet, city to city, to find what I’m looking for.”
“Are you happy, Alex?” “I’m an artist. My job is not to be happy. My job is to feel, to suffer, and to conjure the same feelings in others.”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he could create greatness whilst holding onto his bliss. But I didn’t know if it was true, and I knew better than to hand out empty promises, like the ones my brother gave me.
“Come all over my cock like the good, bad girl that you are.”
“Why, I’m wearing the most beautiful thing one could wear, darlin’. My smile.”
He was so wrong in thinking he wasn’t lovable. Alex was lovable to a fault.
“I want to punch your face.” “Let’s settle for you sitting on my face. Tonight. Now come on, let’s get it over with.”
I would not be ridiculed about my name. I didn’t choose it, and, frankly, would never change it. It was one of the most important pieces of memory I had from my parents. Bonus points: blue really was a fantastic color. Especially when it was dark and bottomless. Like my name. Like their son.
Once we went back to the real world—where days and the weather and family mattered, the world outside this tour—it’d be very easy for her to walk away. And walk away she would, because I was a fuck-up, an addict, and I’d screwed up everything with her before it even started.
“Bed’s too small.” “I don’t do spooning. We’ll be forking instead.”
“I don’t want to fall in love with you,” she croaked. It wasn’t a statement as much as it was a plea.
“You don’t seem to have much choice,” I answered.
I felt it, too. In my body. In my balls. In my veins. The release wasn’t immediate. Like our sex, it trickled down gradually, from my neck, down my spine, feeling my muscles spasm and slack as she quivered and tightened around me.
Now that Tania was gone, Stardust was my main instrument. And it saddened me, because I knew I had to break her, too.
You. You said you loved to see how we burn together. So you took a match. Lit us up. And now we burn forever.
That elusive feeling of contempt, one that cannot be bought, purchased, abused, and monitored with measurements of lethal powder or amber liquid, was strange to me. I was happy, but I couldn’t control it.
How do you know you’re in love? For me, it was in the kiss. I knew I was in love when I found myself opening my eyes when Alex and I were kissing. I no longer needed to close them to concentrate, to withdraw the curtain so I could feel the magic, so to speak. Alex was the magic. And every time we kissed with our eyes closed, I missed him.
It was under the Eiffel Tower that he’d told me his existence had felt different the past couple of weeks. Like his living and breathing were more significant, somehow.
“The way you look at me when I sing and play reminds me why I started doing it in the first place. It reminds me there’s nothing else I want to do—can do—and even though there’s something tragic in that, a man with one destiny, you take the edge off.”
“I promise not a drop of alcohol will meet my mouth tonight. All I intend to get high on is you.”
But if we can have today, I will show you what love tastes like. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll forget about all our sorrows.
Alex Winslow was both an addict and an addiction. Pure and wild. The notion that I couldn’t refuse him was bone-deep, so I did the only thing I could tonight. I copped out.
“I did it for you. Because you’re layered and multicolored and different and…and…”
It was you I wrote songs about. It is you I see first thing in the morning before I open my eyes, like you’re carved into my fucking eyelids from the inside. It’s you I see at night, a second before I fall asleep, like you’re printed on every goddamn ceiling in Europe. I don’t want this to end, and my reasons are purely selfish. You made me forget about the drugs and remember about the art. But I’ve a feeling I’m not the only one who’s enjoying this arrangement. Why fuck it up? Because of a brief, one-sided kiss? Fallon is not a threat. Fallon is not even a hiccup. The only girl I’d like to be
...more
“They forced me. Jenna paid me, and I needed the money. Will won’t give me access to shit unless I go to rehab.”
Up close, I could see madness dancing in her eyes, and I wondered how could they even call what they’d had love? If they were both high all the time, they never even had the chance to truly get to know each other.
“The accident,” she said. “The day you helped me?” She tilted her head, and there was something in her eyes that made my skin crawl. “It was her parents.”
“Don’t pretend like we’re still okay. We’re not. I want you to tell me everything. You’re a liar, Alex, but this time I need every truth you have to give me. That’s the least you can do after everything we’ve been through.”
