Page 65 of Mine

“Bitch,” he muttered under his breath.

Tara and Drew stiffened, but I ignored him. “Do you want to know how much I make per hour Dale? And do you want to pay me that? Or do you want to get back downstairs to check on your bar and all the other shit you need to tend to?”

Dale hovered for a moment, but then grumbled, “Fine.”

Then he was gone. I snorted. It’d been awhile since I’d scared off someone so easily. I gave Tara a knowing look. “You need to get back down there, the show is going to start soon. Have fun.”

Tara winked and headed for the door, Drew following after her. “Well, thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. Close the door on your way out, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The door shut softly, shutting me into the small room with a perfect view.

I frowned and focused on the lighting console, using my phone flashlight to look everything over. I played with the settings until I had a good sense of how this one worked, then looked up as the music playing through the venue stopped, followed by cheers and claps.

I stood up to look out the window.

This time, they opened the set with everyone on stage without Salt.

The moment Salt stepped on stage, there was a ripple that swept through the venue. I watched as people came closer, drawn in like moths to his flame.

For the first time in ages, everything in my life melted away and I became completely entranced by music.

It was like sliding into cool water on a roasting summer day. A comforting breeze whispering ‘welcome back’ in my ear. Beckoning me into the arms of the very thing that had saved me, cursed me, helped me, ruined me.

I brought a mix of red and white light onto the stage, haloing Salt as he started to play his guitar. I gave the other three a dark red. A heavy base note reverberated through my bones as Salt stepped up the mic.

His voice.

It would probably be what destroyed me at the end of all of this. Subduing any forces of logic or reasons with a baritone croon that had my thighs squeezing tighter.

The lyrics were sexually charged. Obsessive. Possessive. Salt burned through my veins as I adjusted the lighting, finding the sweet spot. It would look good on camera, giving him a sort of ethereal god-like appearance.

Now I could sit and watch.

And listen.

My clit throbbed as I stared at Salt, my breath catching. I glanced at the door nervously, but then…

I just couldn’t help myself.

My fingertips grazed my dress until I gripped the hem, hiking the skirt up. I looked at the doorway again. But lust twisted through me, turning me intohishelpless plaything.

“This is too much.”

My whisper was lost in the sound of him.

The chorus was charged with aggression, but only on the surface. Nerves rolled through me as I slid my fingers against my pussy, sucking in a breath.

I was so wet.

“Fuck,” I groaned, needy. So fucking needy.

Why couldn’t I just walk away from him? I was trapped. Caged in. There was no leaving, no escaping.I want him.

I continued to stare out the window at the stage. Beneath the harsh chorus was a deep longing, the kind I recognized immediately. The window became a mirror, and he was the beauty to my ugly, horrid reflection.

I just wanted him. Was that so fucking wrong? After years of not feeling wanted, was it so bad to be with someone who did?

---