The studio is bigger than I expected. When we enter, there are a few people already milling around. Two sound technicians are seated at a large mixing desk, and the glassed off room that’s waiting for me is all set up with a piano and microphone.
“Time to do your magic, Clover,” Gideon whispers in my ear, sending heat trickling down my spine. My whole body responding to him.
Inhaling a deep, calming breath, I step into the studio and grab the headphones that are perched on the chair. Once I’m settled, Gideon calls to me through the speaker system.
“When you’re ready,” he tells me.
Nodding, I allow my fingers to still over the keys, willing them to stop shaking. I know once I’m lost in the song, I’ll be okay, but it’s the moments just before. Those seconds where I feel like I’m not good enough.
Doubt has a way of settling itself in my veins, and there’s no way of getting it out. Closing my eyes, I dance my fingertips along the ebony and ivory keys, smiling to myself as I recall the song. Words tumble from my lips, and the emotion wells up inside me.
The song title is “Delicate Surrender”, and I wrote it the first time I walked into a club, when I met the first man who taught me what being a submissive was like. And it’s the only song I ever tear up at. Because when I think of him, of saying goodbye, I know he’ll always be special to me.
When the song stops and my eyes snap open, I glance at Gideon, who’s staring at me as if I were singing in another language. His gaze makes me feel shy yet heats my skin as it holds me hostage.
“That was absolute perfection,” Gideon says through the speakers, and I can’t stop myself from smiling.
“Thank you,” I utter the words in a small tone that makes me sound even younger than my twenty years. Heat radiates off my cheeks, and I wonder if Gideon can see it.
Can he tell how much I want him to be the one I’m singing to?
“Can we do another take? Then we can move onto the second song.” His request is deep and gravelly, and I wonder briefly if he’s as turned on right now as I am.
Did he watch my body move as I played the piano?
Did it make him want me?
Because the more I look through the shiny glass at him, the more I want to fall to my knees and beg him to take me. To spank me, to make me scream.
“Sure,” I answer roughly, remembering that he’d asked me something and I didn’t respond. Turning my attention back to the piano, I focus my pent-up energy on the keys and play my heart out.
The words wrap themselves around me, holding me in their safety, just for the one song, because the moment I stop, the moment I open my eyes again, I’ll look at Gideon and feel that familiar ache. The reminder that I want him to dominate me, just once more.
I attempt to focus on the song. He’s watching me, listening, and I want him to hear me speak to him through the lyrics. Once again, my tears threaten to escape when I sing the final chorus.
It’s been too long since I felt you
Time is never enough when you’re here
And when I submit my delicate surrender,
It’s you I’m thinking of
But even before I finish singing the last line, the man who’s staring back at me in my thoughts is no longer a faceless stranger. It’s the man who made me come all over his fingers last night.
Chapter 7
Gideon
I’m speechless.
I’ve heard singers in here so many times, far too many to count, but nothing like Clover singing that fucking song. Every word, every goddamned syllable was utter perfection. The tone of her voice, the softness, submissiveness of it drew me in like a moth to a flame.
This girl is going to burn me if I’m not careful.
She looks over at me, smiling, and I know I’m going to have to say something more than my stupid mumbling. I’m a grown man, I have to act like it.
When she leaves the small room and enters the studio's main area, I take her in. There’s a rosy hue coloring her cheeks. Her eyes are shimmering as if she’d been crying.
Her lips are plump and glossy, and her gaze is directed at me. “Was that okay? I mean, we could always do it again.”
“There’s no need for another run through. You’re perfect,” I tell Clover, holding her shoulders in my grasp, feeling the electric energy taking over our connection. It’s the same feeling I had last night when I touched her. When my lips brushed against hers, it was as if there was a forcefield dragging me closer.
“Let’s get a drink, and we can talk about the next song,” I tell her, leading her toward the sofa that’s sitting against the wall. Grabbing a bottle of chilled water, I hand it to her before twisting the cap off mine.
With one long sip, I try to calm myself as I settle in beside her. My gaze is dragged toward Clover and the motion of her throat as she swallows down the water. My cock pulses in my slacks, thickening as I imagine her swallowing my dick just like that.
“So,” she says, distracting me from the illicit thoughts that are plaguing me constantly.
“So, do you to do something more upbeat? I’ve only heard a couple of your songs, ‘Delicate Surrender’ being one of them. Hearing it live… it’s different.”
Her eyes widen at my words. “Different? Is that good or bad?” Her question is filled with worry, and I chuckle, my hand finding a place on her thigh, causing her to tremble the same way she did last night.
God. If this continues, I’ll be balls deep inside her in the next few minutes.
“It’s a very good thing.” My assurance calms her somewhat, but I’m sure it’s my resting hand that’s making her turn a darker shade of red.
“Thank you,” she answers before turning away. Her focus on everything other than me. I want her gaze on me, I’m hungry for it. I lean in closer, hoping not to scare her, but to bask in her fragrance.
“I know I shouldn’t say this,” I start softly. “But I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if I weren’t working with you.”
Her eyes meet mine and widen. “What would happen?” The gentle tone of her voice does things to me. Things I’m not prepared for.
“I feel like I’m out of my depth,” I admit. “This isn’t something I usually do.” I’m not sure I’m making any sense. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone I had to work with. Professionalism is always key to my job, and none of the artists who have been in the studio with me has ever captured me the way you do.”
The blush I’ve come to crave trails from her face, down her neck and to the porcelain flesh of her cleavage. That doesn’t help my need for her, and it certainly doesn’t satiate the hunger that’s taken hold of me.
“It’s against company policy for me to do anything more than taking you for a professional dinner.”
“I wouldn’t want you getting into trouble. I’m not one to break the rules.” Her expression is serious. I imagine her as a teenager who never stayed out past curfew.
Did she have boyfriends? The answer to that could go either way—jealousy would overtake me, and I’d certainly want to claim her. I can’t stop picturing her on her knees before me, taking my cock in her mouth, those plump, glossy lips wrapping around the base of my shaft as she swallows me deep.