Page 8 of Feral Touch
I blew out a frustrated breath and leaned back in my computer chair, thinking it through. Was Ren really that type of guy? Was he really into the groupie thing?
Five years really could change a person.
I spent the next few hours watching videos of Ren, interviews and behind the scenes footage and of course his concerts. Feral Silence had played in dozens of countries around the world. A hint of envy struck me; I’d always dreamed of traveling around the world making music.
The more I watched him, the more entranced I became. That one live performance of his I’d watched hadn’t been a fluke. He really was that talented. It wasn’t just the violin and bass guitar either. He’d sat down at a piano and played lovely music quite a few times, too. He even got on the drums once, although he was laughing the whole time and clearly just messing around.
There was something else I found intriguing—more than intriguing.
Ren hadreallygrown up.
He was taller, yes, but he had also filled out. His chest and shoulders were broad, his arms muscled. His face had lost its softness. It was like his cheekbones were chiseled out of stone, sharp yet dignified. I almost would have called him beautiful if it wasn’t for the strong set of his jaw and his firm lips.
I couldn’t deny it. Ren was sexy as hell.
I became vaguely aware of heat centering between my legs, a slight throbbing at the apex of my thighs. I squirmed, trying to ignore it, but it wouldn’t go away. My hand slowly drifted down without quite thinking about it. I pressed the palm of my hand between my legs and nearly whimpered at the jolt of pleasure that sang through me.
The tips of my fingers grazed my most sensitive spot. The friction of my panties only intensified the sensation. I gasped and choked it back, not wanting to make a sound out loud. I put more pressure on that spot, rubbing in circles, the heat within me rising.
My breathing became heavy, shallow. That sweet ache grew and grew. I moved my fingers faster and faster, closing my eyes. Soft brown eyes and a handsome face appeared behind my eyelids. I bit my lip to stifle a moan. My thighs clenched as pleasure washed over me, the throbbing hitting its peak and sending me over the edge.
I continued rubbing, slowly easing myself back down from the high until it was too much to take. I slumped down on my bed, trying to catch my breath.
Loud voices and the sound of cupboards opening and closing brought me back to myself with a start. My roommates were awake.
I pulled my hand away, blushing in the privacy of my room. I couldn’t believe I’d done…that…while thinking about Ren.
Sure, I’d done it before, but I only ever thought of celebrities or random hot guys I had crushes on from afar. I’d never done it to someone I actually knew. The thought almost filled me with a sort of shame, like I’d done something naughty using Ren like that.
I gave myself a mental shake. Stupid. I bet thousands of girls had done what I’d done many times over. It was nothing to feel bad about.
It did make me wonder, though. With all those girls lusting over Ren, had any of them ever actually got their wish?
The thought made me burn with jealousy. I didn’t like that feeling. I forced those thoughts away and continued searching online. I wanted to know more about Ren beyond his gorgeous face and tempting body. What was his personality like? I tried to push what I’d just done out of my mind.
After several minutes of surfing around, I found something interesting. It was a video from little more than a year ago. Ren was centered in the middle of the frame with a concert hall to his back. A voice from off the screen asked him questions.
“Ren, aside from the bass guitar, what other instruments do you play?”
Unlike the other videos I’d seen, he was dressed only in a collared shirt, no tailored jacket or tie. It was almost casual for him. Ren’s glossy black hair was loose and falling over his shoulders.
“I play a few different instruments,” he replied, “including piano and violin.”
I knew that much. I wondered when Ren had developed a taste for the bass guitar.
“My parents insisted I take classical music lessons growing up.”
The easy smile on his face had wavered, lips pressing together for a brief moment. Aside from that, there'd been no hint of the darkness that had overcome him in the first interview I’d seen.
“I can also pound away on the drums a bit,” Ren said, continuing the interview, “but I’m no match for Morris.”
“Is it true that the violin piece in Blue Storm is you?”
“Yeah, that was me playing the violin parts in Blue Storm. If you ever see me in concert, about halfway through the song I put down the bass and pull out my violin for a solo.”
The camera panned over to the rest of the band, so I clicked to pause the video. I mulled over what I’d just seen. A few years ago, Ren clearly hadn’t liked being asked about his past, but in this interview he talked about it without a second thought.
“Alright girl, spill it.”
