35. ELLY
35
ELLY
T he venue of Nico’s party is lush. I know Kate said she didn’t have the money to pay for Amy Moritz to perform, but she certainly has a lot of cash if the free-flowing champagne and delicious canapes are anything to go by. All the guests are gorgeous and well-dressed, and so freaking glamorous. I caught sight of Erica Lefroy chatting to Seb Hawkston by the bar; she’s one of the UK’s top models, and she’s unbearably beautiful in real life.
I haven’t had anything to drink because I don’t want to perform without being completely in control. Plus, I had such a bad hangover after I drank the bottle of Jack’s wine, that I’ve stayed off the booze ever since.
He hugs me moments before my set. “Go show them how talented you are,” he whispers, just as the MC is announcing me. He kisses me full on the lips while the spotlight is turned on us, and people begin squealing and clapping. I feel myself blushing, but I break away and take to the stage.
The set goes by in a blur. The audience is excited and cheers like crazy for me, and when I hear loud whistling between songs, I glance down to find Nico with his fingers in his mouth, and Kate beside him yelling for me.
This feels so good. Incredible . My heart is pounding and I’m high off the audience, my songs, and the performance; euphoric almost. And there isn’t a tomato in sight.
When I finish, I give thanks, and take a bow, before I descend the stage back into the party.
“That was amazing,” Kate says, rushing up to me. She’s so excited, she’s nearly breathless. “You totally stole the show.”
“Absolutely,” Nico agrees. “In fact, there’s someone who wants to meet you.”
“Oh?”
I brush my hair off my face. The stage was hot and I’m sweaty from being under the lights. My heart is racing. The set went better than I could ever have imagined.
“Yeah,” Nico says, grabbing someone from behind him. “This is Amy.”
I very nearly sink to my knees, because standing right there between Nico and Kate is Amy Moritz, one of the biggest music stars in the world. I’m so stunned that I can’t speak. I think I let out a squeak.
Amy smiles her big Americanised white smile. Her hair is shaved on one side and pink on the other. It looks ridiculously cool. I begin to sweat a bit more.
“I am such a huge fan,” I begin.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Amy interrupts. “Thanks, but we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. You’ve got some serious talent, lady. You wrote those songs?”
I nod, still finding it difficult to speak.
“Wow. Where the hell have you been hiding? What have you been doing for the last decade?”
I stand with my mouth hanging open, and Kate throws an arm around my shoulders. “She’s been practising. Isn’t she great?”
“Fabulous,” Amy agrees. She turns away, and I figure that’s it, that’s all I’m getting—and I tell myself it’s enough to be not only acknowledged by one of the biggest stars, but complimented—when Amy calls out to a tall, dark-haired man nearby. “Robert, come here.”
The man turns, and a sickening panic coils in my stomach. It’s Robert Lloyd, Amy’s Manager. Shit.
He frowns, and his stare penetrates my skin, then he breaks into a smile and comes over to join us.
“Wasn’t she great?” Amy says to Robert. He agrees and congratulates me on the performance. “Reckon we can help get her career off the ground?”
Robert muses this for a moment, his dark eyes assessing me. He looks to Amy. “That depends on whether she shows up to any meetings.”
Amy quirks a brow, and Robert explains that I didn’t show up for our meeting at the Granville Agency.
“I assumed you didn’t want representation,” he says, turning his attention to me. “Thought you must have found something better.”
Better? What’s better than Robert Lloyd? “No…” I’m sure the regret is scrawled across my face. He gives me a kind smile, and the knot of anxiety in my stomach unwinds a fraction.
“I don’t usually give people second chances, Elly. But when they’re as good as you, I’m open to it. We can do more than get you off the ground. We can get you flying right to the top.”
“Oh. Oh.” Words, Elly. “That would be… I don’t know what to say.” I press my palms to my cheeks, finding them warm. “Thank you. I’d love to work with you.”
Amy squints as she looks at me, as though she’s processing something. “I wonder if we could sing together. How can we make that happen?” Oh, my God. I’m dead. I must have died. “Can we do that, Robert?”
“Absolutely,” he says, and his enthusiasm matches Amy’s. “I haven’t heard anyone with as unique a sound as you in a long time. Raw talent, that’s what you’ve got. I’d love to have a chat about your aspirations, because, whatever they are, we can make them happen. Hell, we can exceed them. Can you come in for a meeting? Show up this time.” He digs into his pocket and hands me his card. “Take this, in case you lost the other one.”
I feel faint holding that little piece of card. A second chance. This time, I won’t freak out. I’ll see it through.
“I’ll get your number from Nico,” Amy says, before kissing me on the cheek and squeezing my hand. “Actually, wait.” Her eyes flash with inspiration. “Let’s do it now. Let’s sing together. You ready for an encore?”
Adrenaline floods me, my knees threatening to buckle.
“Go,” Kate urges, waving me back towards the stage with both hands. Amy, buoyant with enthusiasm, grabs me, the metal of all her rings hard against my hand. She tugs me to the stage again, and leans into the microphone, me standing awkwardly beside her.
“Wasn’t that performance amazing? Give it up for Elly Carter everyone,” Amy yells, and instantly the attention of the room is back on us and everyone roars. No, screams . I don’t think anyone expected to see Amy Moritz on stage tonight.
The place goes wild as people get their phones out and start filming and snapping pictures. Amy waves her arms in the air and her sequin-covered dress sparkles. “I’m going to make a prediction. This time next year, this woman is going to be huge.” Again, the party clamors, and I can hear Kate squealing. She’s bouncing on her toes and clapping, and beside her Nico is grinning widely.
I can’t believe this is happening.
“You know, ‘Beat Me’?” Amy asks me, referencing one of her massive summer hits. I nod. Of course, I know it . “Let’s do that.” She winks at me and whispers away from the microphone, “Next time, I’ll sing one of yours.” And I feel like I’m going to explode.
The band begins and Amy sings the opening phrase, her soulful voice filling the room, and then she lets me take over, and holy shit it’s unreal, standing here next to one of the industry’s biggest stars. My feet might be on the ground, but internally I’m soaring.
I make it through the track, and at the end, the applause is greater than I’ve ever experienced. It’s deafening. Amy throws an arm around me and we leave the stage together, pushing through the enthusiastic crowd. She promises to be in touch and excuses herself as she’s swarmed with people.
“Oh, my God, oh, my God, you were wonderful.” If Kate was breathless before, she’s hyperventilating now. “And also”—she pulls her phone out of her handbag—“You’re trending.”
I don’t like that word. “What?”
“Yeah. The latest videos went totally viral. Millions of views. A few big influencers have used your sound too. It’s all over the place. And Amy posted a selfie when your set started, with you performing in the background. She tagged you. And after that performance”—she nods at the stage as though we’re both still singing up there—“you’ll be everywhere.”
Shit, shit, shit.
I grab Kate’s phone, my hands trembling, and check the stats. She’s right. Millions of views. And a few hundred people have used the sound already. I refresh and the numbers jump. Leap. Sky-rocket. And Amy has millions of followers and her video already has thousands of views too.
My heart starts beating so hard and fast it feels like it’s quivering. I can’t handle this. It’s too much all at once. I’m not ready.
Just as I’m about to start panicking, I catch sight of Jack pacing towards me. I thrust Kate’s phone back at her just as he reaches us. He barges right between Kate and Nico, ignoring the way they share an amused glance at his rudeness, and slides his arms around me. “Excuse us,” he says to them. “We have a deal I have to see through.”
Before I know it, he’s tugging me through the crowd, barely allowing me to stop to thank everyone who wants to compliment the set and congratulate me. He draws me close and whispers in my ear, “My dick is so fucking hard after watching you up there. I cannot wait another second to have you.”
Tingles of anticipation spread through me. I’m already buzzing, and Jack’s mention of his dick sends me into overdrive. “Where are we going?”
We leave the main room and head down a corridor, Jack’s large, warm hand cradling mine. He opens doors, poking his head in and then retreating as though he’s not finding whatever he’s looking for.
“Here,” he says, finally, and leads me into a room not far from the main bar. It’s decorated in a similar style. White floors, black seats, glowing lights from beneath the banquette that lines the walls of the tiny space. It’s a small private space, but there’s no lock on the door.
Before I can object, Jack slams the door and pulls me against him. Heat rages through me at every moving point of contact as he skims his hands over my shoulders, my upper arms, my neck.
His kisses are hard and desperate, bruising against my lips, but I meet him with equal vigor. “You are amazing,” he says between kisses. “I got hard watching you. And you know what I thought?”
“What? What did you think?” I ask breathlessly.
He bites on my bottom lip and sucks it. “I thought, I am the luckiest man here because I am going to fuck that woman. I’m going to slide my fingers in”—he glides a hand up my bare thigh, teasing the fabric of my underwear which is getting wetter by the second—“and find her soaked for me.”
I gasp as he pushes in, raising my thigh over his hip to give him better access. He tips his head back and groans. “Fuuuuck. No matter how many times I imagine this, it’s never as good as the real thing.”
I grind against him, and his breath heats my neck as he pants while he undoes his trousers. “Please,” I beg, already desperate to feel him inside me.
“Shit.” Jack’s movements cease abruptly. “No condoms.”
My pussy pulses, that empty ache inside me calling to be filled. “I don’t care. I’m on the pill. I’ve been checked.” My heart cinches as I recall his ‘a lot of women’ comment. “What about you?”
“I’m good. I got tested before you moved in. And you’ve seen my house. I keep everything neat. And I mean, everything .” He draws back so he can see me, and his eyes look darker than ever. “I’ve never fucked a woman bare before.”
Wow.
My heart starts leaping at the idea that I can be one of Jack Lansen’s firsts. I didn’t think he’d have any left to give. Arousal surges at the thought of feeling him coming inside me. “Really?”
“Yes.” He frowns as though he thinks I’m judging him, which I am, but… holy shit. I get to be the first woman he’s been with without a condom. Bare . “Are we doing this or not?” he asks, and the brusque defensiveness in his voice endears him to me even more.
I nod, and I’ve barely finished the motion before Jack has shifted me to the banquette and hiked my skirt up around my hips. He takes one look at my underwear before he grabs it roughly, and the sound of tearing fabric greets my ears.
“Shit, you ripped them,” I mutter, outraged, but Jack only pulls the fabric out of the way and tosses it to the floor, far too focused on the task he’s set himself to care. His trousers are still around his thighs, and he’s so eager that his desire leeches into me, escalating my racing pulse.
He spreads my thighs and lines himself up, then pauses, his tip right at the entrance, staring down at it. “Fuck. Look at you, so ready to take me. So pink and perfect, and fucking wet.” He groans, and the lusty noise makes heat blaze through my veins. He raises his gaze to mine as he enters, pushing every last inch of him inside me, and an overwhelming rush of hormones floods me, drowning me with need and desire, and love for this man.
“This feels so good. Just being inside you.” He moans again and I can’t bear him being inside me without actually fucking me for a second longer. The fullness is exquisite, but I need more. I lower a hand to touch my clit, but Jack flicks my hand away and works me himself, bringing me to orgasm without thrusting once. My pussy walls clench around his dick, my thighs locked around his hips.
I moan and writhe as the blistering pleasure shoots through me.
“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” he pants when I’m done. “I felt all of that. Every last tremor of your cunt.”
He looks beside himself with desire as he thrusts, slow at first, then hard and fast, and in moments a second orgasm begins to bloom, sending blasts of energy pulsing through me.
This time, we come together, my arms wrapped around him, fingers gripping his shirt. When he stiffens, letting out an almighty groan, I feel my heart teetering on the edge. This is it. His eyes lock onto mine, and in them, I read a million emotions; fear, vulnerability, love, ecstasy… it’s all there on his face— he’s giving me everything— as his climax spills into me in warm throbs while I tremble around him.
“I love you,” he breathes.
“I love you, I love you too,” I repeat, as my orgasm wrings me out, binding me to him, body and soul, leaving me boneless and blissfully happy. “God, I love you.”
When our breathing returns to normal he says, “I want to wrap you up and keep you forever,” and I don’t object to the idea.
He pulls out, staring between my legs as I feel the warmth of his seed trickling down my thigh. “Seeing my cum drip out of you is so fucking hot,” he says. “Makes me want to take you again right away.”
He wipes up the mess on my thigh with his fingers and then slides them right back inside me, as though he wants to push his cum back where it belongs. There’s something so primal about the move that heat filters through my body. That’s exactly where it belongs. I wish I could keep it all inside me. He rubs my clit with his thumb and expertly works that precious spot inside me. It takes him less than a minute to have me climaxing again, clenching around his fingers and spilling more of his cum down his hand and onto his wrist. “Wow,” he breathes.
“Wow,” I repeat, breathless and exhausted. “You tore my underwear, and I’m going to be leaking your cum for the rest of the night.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I mock-scowl at him. “Maybe we could go home?”
He laughs. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid. You have to go show your face. Work the room.” He pulls tissues out of his pocket and hands some to me and we wipe ourselves clean. I watch as he tucks himself in and buttons up. He’s too fucking much, this man. His hair is bedroom-tousled and his cheeks flushed, and it looks so good on him. I can’t believe I’m this lucky.
“I’m going to burn all my remaining condoms,” he says, kissing me as I’m pulling my skirt back down. “I can’t go back after that.”
I wholeheartedly agree. I’m positively buoyant; this feels like the evening my entire life changes, and I’m so ready for it.