Myka
I wake in a room that is not my own with a dull headache I definitely can lay claim to.
The clock on the bedside table reads three thirty-three a.m. and has a bottle of water and a small paper cup containing two aspirin…
at least I hope they’re aspirin. I lift the cup and a note stored underneath reads.
Yes, they’re aspirin (smiley face)
I inhale deeply and exhale all my worry before ingesting the little white tablets and downing the bottle of water.
Tossing the plastic bottle and paper cup into his recycle bin, I stand and wrap myself in the sheet.
I search for my clothes and shoes so I can go home.
I look on the floor and around the bed where I am sure to find them but come up empty.
His custom-made bed is platform-style, allowing nothing under its frame.
I shimmy over to the closet, thinking maybe he hung them in there.
When I open it, I find it is neatly organized by style and color, but no chain mesh halter crop top or asymmetrical leather shorts with a chain accessory.
I wander farther into his closet, which is bigger than my living room, and trail my fingers over his things, getting a feel for Simon Ashton. I wonder if this is what the many girls he has slept with over the years did when they woke in his bed, alone, deserted.
Flashbacks to that interview on the entertainment channel resurface and a tear falls from my eye. My chest constricts and I find myself in another shame spiral. I slump to the floor and pull my knees up to my chest, laying on them.
“How could I be so stupid?” I sob to an open closet. The quiet of the enclosed space is becoming too much to bear. I rise to my feet, trying not to stumble over the bed linen, wipe my face, and go on a search to find Mr. Ashton and my clothes.
I check in the bathroom and it's apparent he's been here recently, since there is water on the floor and lingering steam on the mirror.
I venture into the hallway and stop to examine the walls lined with various pictures of the band on tour, receiving accolades, and even some candid canvas prints of them with other mega celebrities in the music industry.
My favorite photo is of Simon and his siblings as a younger group.
His goofy smile, and Sebastian sticking out his tongue is adorable.
The one next to this is of his parents on their wedding day.
Family is important to them. It was clear in the trip to London, and it is evident here.
The faint sound of music playing catches my attention and I follow it, hoping to find Simon.
I descend the staircase one level, and then the next, unable to find the source.
Refocusing, I continue to search and come to a room well-hidden from the main floor of the rest of the massive dwelling—kind of secretive.
Simon sits at his piano, playing along with an instrumental version of ‘Maybe I’m Amazed’, one of my favorite songs. We’ve discussed many things, but I know I didn’t tell him that fact.
I stand in the shadows quietly observing him as he sings.
With each note, I’m more drawn to him. Taking my gaze away from him for a second, I spot my clothes over on a chair close to the steps on which I stand.
I hold up my shorts, grab my phone from my pocket, and record this moment unbeknownst to him, since he didn’t see me when I entered the room.
After two minutes, I place the phone on the chair and stroll over to him, attracted to everything this man before me is, or perhaps has always been.
Now aware of my presence, Simon’s play intensifies, and his vocals become more pronounced as he starts from the beginning. His gaze locks on me, personalizing every word as if it were written for me only.
I smile as he serenades me, not able to look away from his gaze.
My body tingles with excitement, my heart beats faster, my skin prickles with goosebumps, and my breathing increases with the thought of what could possibly happen.
I’m trapped beneath his mojo, and I like the way it makes me feel.
I move closer, positioning myself just to the side of the soundboard of his baby grand.
“That’s beautiful.”
“It was about you. What else could it be?” He smiles and continues to play the melody.
“This song is very special to me. I never play it, really. See, when we were younger, my dad was involved in a horrible accident that left him comatose for two weeks and paralyzed from the waist down. Mum didn’t think he was going to make it, but she visited him every day at the hospital, sometimes staying overnight while our grandparents looked after us. ”
I gasp when he shares this information. “I had no idea.”
“We were told he’d never walk again. Mum said she played this song every day for dad while he recovered, since it was his favourite.
He came out of his sleep and after a long road of therapy, he was released.
We held a big party for him after his release from the hospital.
We wheeled him into the hall where the event was held and the first song played, was this one.
He surprised everyone by standing from his wheelchair and asking mum to dance.
It was the most emotional I’ve ever seen them.
I played it at their vow renewal ceremony a few years later.
I always said that I would play it at my own wedding one day. ”
Simon looks at me and my temperature rises under his deep stare. His gaze pierces my soul and takes over.
I try a little fact about the song hoping to break the tension. “Did you know Sir Paul McCartney penned that for his wife for all the things she did to help him through a rough time? Kind of fitting your parents' story, don’t you think?”
He stops playing, takes my hand with his and places a kiss on the back of it.
“Yes. Just like you’re doing for me. Maybe you’re the Linda to my Paul.
” He continues to kiss my hand, moving up my arm, standing to apply his affections to my shoulder.
“Please be the Linda to my Paul,” he whispers in my ear.
Simon kisses me with such tenderness, my core melts instantly, its remnants leak down my leg between my thighs, making this a very sticky situation.
The night in Miami has nothing on the way he’s taking me now. My muscles clench as he lifts me onto the top of his baby grand piano, our mouths locked in passion. I feel like I missed an opportunity then but I’m not going to miss out on it now.
“Yes. Yes Simon, I will.”
He smiles and resumes his position with my mouth and slowly peels away the sheet I’m still wrapped in.
He places my feet on the keys and a melodious sound escapes from inside with each strike of the strings.
Parting my legs, he takes a slow, long lap on the inside of my thigh, up one side and then up the other.
His gaze greedily drinking in the view with desire.
My back presses into the coolness of the black marble piano top as I lean back. I hear the bench scooting closer, his hand never leaving my thigh.
The feel of his hair touching my legs as he homes in on my center arouses my desire for his touch.
I want to tell him to take me and not play around before I come to my senses, but I refrain.
He nibbles and licks along the intersection of my thighs and hips while he works his fingers inside my box slowly.
I gasp when he presses against my g-spot, sending shivers up my spine.
“Simon,” I moan.
“Relax, Myka. Let me please you in ways you deserve.” He separates the folds of my tender pussy and licks them gently, paying attention to my reaction and giving me more of what I like.
He moves from the first layer, to the second, licking around my opening before teasing my hole with the tip of his tongue.
His knowledge of the female anatomy explains why he is greatly admired.
Yet, I wonder if he does this to every woman he meets.
Suddenly the magic stops. I sit up at attention and he stands.
“What’s wrong, my love?”
“I don’t think we should do this.”
“Oh. I understand. This isn’t something you’re used to; you know, being with a non-person of color.”
“No, no. That’s not it at all. I mean, it’s true, but no. That doesn’t bother me at all.”
“Then what is it?”
I think about why I was hired by his label. “Meteor wanted me to clean up your image and aside from the medium substance abuse, there was an overwhelming number of paternity suits. Meaning, you slept with a lot of women, unprotected.”
“And you're wondering if it’s safe to sleep with me?”
“Part of my job was to review your health records, and you just had your physical a month ago. I know you’re clean. I’m wondering how many women you have given this level of attention to and if I’m setting myself up for heartache.”
“Zero.”
“‘Zero’? You’ve slept with women who’ve claimed that you knocked them up.”
“And all of those paternity suits were proven false. Do you know why? Because I used protection. Despite my state of altered behaviour, I was always conscious enough to make sound decisions.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You are also the first woman I’ve ever fucked in my bed, let alone in my home.”
“But we’re on a piano.”
“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you here too.” He slides his finger back into my still wet puss.
I gasp, my mouth agape. “Simon,” I call out, grabbing onto him, pressing deep into his flesh.
He works his fingers around, stimulating both my g-spot and clitoris, and takes my mouth with his.
I gyrate my hips against his fingers, bringing forth my release. The level of euphoria that pours through me is a deliverance from my past and an emergence all at once.
He slows his circling of my clit “That’s it my lover. Just relax. This is only the beginning.” He removes his fingers and spreads them apart, marveling at the long stretchy string of juices that linger between them. Then sticks them both into his mouth and sucks off all my nectar.
Honestly, it is some of the hottest shit I’ve ever been a part of.
His smile shows he’s pleased with my reaction. He climbs on top of the piano, both of us lying back.
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I want you, need you, Myka. You are the calm I’ve always searched for but never found. And you deserve more than that other person could ever give you. He’s a dick for how he treated you, and I want to help you forget he ever existed.”
I untie the string on his jammies, reach inside, and play with his hard cock, softly stroking the shaft and encircling the head with my fingers. Rising onto my knees and positioning where my legs rest on each side of him, I hover above his crotch, my naked body on full display.
He reaches up and fondles my breasts, paying attention to the nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger.
“Simon?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Help erase my memory.”
He removes his shirt then lifts and pushes his sleepwear down, giving me access to his beautiful, tatted body.
His nipple piercings call my mouth to their attention. I slowly lick around the metal rods and hoops that adorn his tiny buds. This brings him great delight.
His gripping of my ass is proof that he approves of my actions. “You do that well, you know.”
“Not as well as I do this,” I trail my tongue down his chest and around each line of his abs, making my way to his well-defined V-line.
My feet hang over the edge of the piano and tickle the ivories beneath them as I inch a little lower to his dick.
Taking his member into my mouth, I go as far down as I can without gagging and come up to the tip before repeating my actions.
“Fucking hell!”.
With each deep throat action, I swallow just a bit to make it feel like there is suction at the tip, then release.
I continue this for a few minutes before releasing my hold and repositioning myself onto his engorged, veiny, manhood.
The head of his cock pierces my slick folds with a bit of sting as it stretches them beyond their limit.
“Shit,” I exclaim with each inch of his pole as I slide down it.
He grips my hips even tighter as he manages to adjust his length and girth into my box.
The myths have all been thrown out of the window at this point.
I lean forward, allowing the ride to be comfortable for us both.
My nipples rub against his and the friction heightens my arousal, which is clear from the increased moisture between my legs.
Simon releases his hold and takes my face between his palms. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Myka,” he whispers before joining my mouth with his.
He rolls us over, placing him in the dominating position.
Lifting my legs, he’s able to fit more of his member inside and thrusts slowly and as deep as I can take.
He rests them on his shoulders and uses his thumb to play with my clit.
“Come for me, princess,” he moans as he applies steady gentle pressure to my throbbing bud.
His tempo increases and I know he’s near his end.
I close my eyes and focus on the building climax deep within the walls of my pussy as his thrusts tickle the back. My hands find his legs and grip tight as he pumps a few more times.
The saturation of sweat and my juices dribble down my ass while he continues to stir them with each delicious move.
“That’s it, be a good little girl,” he grunts.
That’s the thing that pushes me over the edge. His accent, the way he calls me a little girl, and the fact he uses a low, growly voice, sends me and my juices to the edge of eruption.
“Oh, fuck,” I exclaim as pure joy rushes through me for the second time. My body trembles, heart rate increases, and breathing becomes a pause and release to calm me down.
“Yes, that’s the look I want to see on your face.
It’s so fucking sexy, and it belongs to me.
” He pumps one last time, and he explodes.
His warm fluids shoot deep within me, mixing with my own and spills onto the piano top.
He lies on top of me, his face buried in the crook of my neck.
He takes my hand and interlocks our fingers, bringing them to his mouth and placing a kiss on the union as if he is blessing it.
“I’m tired. I think I should go home now and rest.”
“No. I still have to break in my bed, remember.” He laughs and I smile.
“Okay. I’ll stay. But I need three things.”
“Anything. Just name it.”
“A shower, some rest, and food.”
“You don’t need any clothes from your place?”
“I thought they were optional.”
“For the next two days, they aren’t even needed.” He kisses me and soon we are going back at it on top of the piano.
I will never be able to look at a piano the same way ever again.
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