Page 77 of Heart Strings
It feels ridiculous, climbing onto a towel-covered speaker on my bed, but Aidan is already enjoying himself. Bossing me around, even from three thousand miles away. I don’t mind. The last time Aidan was in charge, I enjoyed turning my brain off and submitting to his desires. It was actually pretty hot to place my trust in him.
Aidan hums a simple melody into his mic then presses a key to loop it on his laptop. I’m rewarded with a gentle buzz between my thighs. It’s his vibrating hum, repeated until it becomes a background noise like cicadas on a summer night.
Aidan adjusts a dial, and the vibration shifts into something deeper. My shoulders soften and I lean back.
“How’s that?” Reverb multiplies the lustful rumble. Needing more, I arch my back to grind against the speaker.
“Use your words.” His smile kicks up. “And your hands. Take off your shirt and touch yourself for me.”
“Your voice…” I moan, rolling my nipples in between my fingers. “It could get me there by itself.”
“Good,” he growls in response.
“You’d better add that,” I tell him. Right away. He knows what I mean. He drags the microphone closer to his mouth and breathes a guttural sound I feel deep in my core.
I first fell in love with Aidan while he was singing lyrics filled with tragic beauty and dark, ruthless humor. Nimble fingers swept up and down the fretboard of his mandolin as I swayed from the front row at the Hare’s Breath. The rest of the pub melted away and it felt like he was singing just to me. Aidan’s always had a way of making the rest of the world seem far away.
Aidan’s tongue glides across his bottom lip as he fidgets in his seat. His restlessness sends a different flavor of excitement through my bloodstream, desperate moans and whispered requests that fuel my own rising pleasure. I want to make him feel powerful, perfect. The way I see him.
“Don’t make me do this alone,” I plead. “You love to perform.”
“I’ll try to get over the stage fright.”
Without hesitation, his pulls his shirt off and opens the zipper of his pants. It feels illicit to watch through my phone. He groans as he slowly begins to pump. With the other hand, he makes an adjustment to change the song playing. I recognize it. “All for You.”
Pleasure hits me like a shock wave as his voice flows through the speaker. It’s so intense, I lift myself off the vibrating surface.
“Get back there,” Aidan says, eyes dark.
“It’s too much…”
“You’re just getting started.”
“All for You” is propelled by a heavy, sensual bassline. Theseductive energy he harnesses inspires unhinged comments on social media when anyone posts videos of him performing it.
His free hand adjusts something on his computer, and I melt into the sensation.
“Stay with me,” he says. “Match my pace.”
Vibrations follow the beat of the song, my pleasure climbing higher with it. But I can’t make out the racy lyrics with the speaker between my thighs.
“Sing for me, Aidan…If it’s all for me, that includes your voice.”
His lips gently part, and what begins as almost a moan becomes a sustained note. He knows his instrument well and lowers the pitch. I watch as he continues to stroke himself. Not too fast. He’s trying to keep control of his breathing, but I want to see him lose it.
Driven by the thought of Aidan’s own voice making me feel this way, I grind harder. His lovely mouth, the very breath in his chest and the raw emotion in his heart. His lyrics about us. The shamelessness of singing about doing filthy things to me in a venue full of fans.
The next verse is interrupted by a gasp. Aidan’s hand is a blur of movement on my screen. Such focus. Such desperation. All for me.
“Cielo…” Theoat the end is pliable and resonant in his skilled mouth.
Whimpering and frantically seeking friction, I start to unravel. My vision goes soft as the climax crashes over me. “Let me hear you,” I demand. That’s all it takes for Aidan to catch up.
Labored breaths fill my ears. It’s almost as beautiful as hissinging. Determination and desperation play across his face as he furiously brings himself there. The corners of his mouth turn up as a deep groan escapes it. He finishes onto a T-shirt that was lying on his hotel bed.
Aidan wipes his brow with the back of his hand with a dazed look at me. “Holy shit.”
“That was…” Different. Exciting.
