Nova

The whispers grew louder, the doubt more insistent. But I pushed them aside. This was Cory Krossroads—the artist, not the producer with a reputation for playing with hearts. He was my friend, confidant, and the one who truly understood my passion for music.

We talked for a long stretch, our conversation a symphony of shared experiences and mutual respect. His stories of the industry's early days were fascinating, a glimpse into a glamorous and cutthroat world. And when he spoke of his music, his eyes lit up with a fire that was impossible to resist. It was a side of him that I hadn't seen before, a vulnerability that was as intriguing as it was endearing.

As the night grew later, the VIP lounge began to empty out. The club music grew softer, the city's pulse slowing to a seductive rhythm that seemed to sync with the beating of our hearts. The echoes of our laughter bounced off the chrome surfaces.

"You know," Cory said, his voice low and gravelly. "I've been watching you." He took a step closer, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. "You've come so far in such a short time. Artis is lucky to have you."

I looked up at him, my heart racing. "Thank you," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm here for the music, Cory."

He nodded, his eyes searching my face. "I know," he said. "And I'm proud of you." His hand slid to my neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin below my ear. "But I can't help but wonder..."

I knew what he was thinking. The question hung between us, a seductive melody that was impossible to ignore. "What?" I asked, my voice barely a breath.

He leaned down, his breath hot against my skin. "What if..." he began, his eyes dark with desire. "What if we gave into this?"

The world stopped spinning for a moment, the only sound the thundering of my heart in my ears. The temptation was there, a siren's call that grew louder with every passing second. But I knew this was a line we couldn't cross without consequences.

"We can't," I said, my voice firm despite the tremble in my knees. "I love Artis, and he loves me. This would only complicate things."

He nodded, his expression a mix of understanding and disappointment. "You're right," he said, taking a step back. "I'm sorry." He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... the way you look at me, the way you move, it's like we're two instruments playing the same song."

I offered a sad smile. "I know," I said. "But some songs are meant to be played alone." "But that's no fun." He spun me. "Did I tell you how incredible you look tonight?"

He noticed the intricate Virgo tattoo on my back. His eyes widened with admiration as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin. Without asking, he began tracing the lines with the tip of his finger, his touch feather-light and reverent. Goosebumps broke out over my skin, a delicious shiver rushing down my spine. I felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely protected by his gentle touch. It was as if he was decoding a secret language etched into my flesh, a map to the very core of who I was.

I watched him in the mirror, his expression a mix of wonder and hunger. He then gently tugged a string on the back of my dress and loosened it slightly, giving him a better view. The fabric slipped away, revealing more of the tattoo's intricate design. His eyes never left my reflection as he traced the swirls and lines that danced across my back. His touch was like a brand, searing the memory of this moment into my skin.

I took a deep breath, willing my body to remain still and not betray the tumult of emotions that swirled within me. "Cory," I whispered, my voice a plea and a warning. "We can't."

He nodded, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "I know," he murmured, his voice thick with want. But he didn't stop. Instead, he feathered kisses on my shoulder and neck. I moaned softly, my resolve crumbling like sand under the relentless tide of his touch.

"You're so beautiful, Nova," he breathed, his hands cupping my breasts, his thumbs playing with my hardened nipples through the fabric of my dress. The heat of his body washed over me, and I felt myself leaning back into him, my eyes fluttering shut.

The sound of a door slamming echoed through the hallway, jolting us both out of our haze. We froze, our eyes locking in the mirror. The spell was broken. "Shit," he muttered, stepping back. "I'm sorry."

I turned to face him, my chest heaving with the effort to control my desire. "It's okay," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't." I paused, collecting myself. "Not here. Not now."

The look in his eyes was one of pure hunger, but he nodded. "You're right," he said, taking a step back. "Let me fix your ties" He turned me around to fix my dress for me.. his hard dick was pressed against my back, I could feel it. "You got me fucked up," I murmured, trying to laugh it off. He stepped away and let me fix my dress properly. "Thank you," I said, my voice trembling slightly.

We returned to the Cullinan, and the cool night air was a much-needed balm to the fire raging within me.

The ride to my apartment was fraught with tension, the kind that was palpable and thick, wrapping around us like a velvet cocoon. Cory's hand remained on the gearshift, his fingertips dancing along the leather, but they'd drift to my thigh occasionally, a silent question, a gentle probe. Each time, I'd hold my breath, waiting for the touch to move higher, but it remained a teasing promise, a dance of temptation that had my skin tingling.

I could feel the heat of his gaze on me, a silent conversation that spoke volumes of his desire. The city lights painted a kaleidoscope of colors across his face, a mask of longing that was almost too much to bear. With every red light, the anticipation grew, my heart pounding in my chest like a bass drum.

As we pulled up to my apartment building, the tension in the car was unbearable. I knew what he wanted, what I wanted, but the line we were flirting with was a dangerous one. We sat there for a moment, the engine idling, the sound of our breathing the only noise in the quiet night. "Thank you for a wonderful night," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to me, his eyes dark with desire. "You don't have to go home," he said, his voice low and seductive. "We could keep this going, just for one night." I looked into his eyes, the battle between my head and my heart waging a war. "Cory," I said softly. "This isn't a good idea." But my words were hollow, my body already leaning into the promise of his touch. He didn't reply; he just gave me a knowing smile and put the car back into drive.

We pulled up to a beautiful brownstone nestled in the quiet embrace of an upscale New Jersey neighborhood. The house looked like it had been plucked straight from a movie set, the kind of place where love scenes played out against a backdrop of soft jazz and candlelight. He parked.

Before I could protest, he slid out, rounded the truck, opened my door, and offered me his hand. My heart hammered in my chest, my palms slick with nerves and anticipation. I didn't stop him. We climbed the stairs to the brownstone, the night air cool against my skin, the sound of our heels echoing through the stillness. The door opened, revealing a warm, dimly lit interior that smelled good and was cozy.

"This is where I come for inspiration," Cory said, his voice filled with quiet pride as he led me through the hallway. "This was the very first place I bought when I finally got paid." His words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of his success and a hint of the man behind the legend.

The walls were lined with gold and platinum records, each a testament to his musical genius. The furniture was a blend of vintage and modern, a reflection of his eclectic tastes. The place was a sanctuary, a private retreat from the world of glitz and glamour he ruled.

He showed me to a room that was more like a library than a living room, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a grand piano sitting in the corner. "This is where I write," he said, gesturing to the piano. "This is where the magic happens." He sat down, his fingers brushing against the keys, the soft sound resonating through the air.

I watched as he played a hauntingly beautiful melody that seemed to capture the essence of the night. His eyes were closed, lost in the music, The tension between us grew, the air thick with unspoken desires. I couldn't help but wonder if the magic he spoke of was just the music or something more, something that we'd been dancing around all night.

He stopped playing abruptly, his eyes opening to find mine. "Come on," he took my hand and led me up another set of stairs.

His bedroom was a sanctuary of warmth and comfort. The modern fireplace crackled, casting flickering shadows across the fur rugs that sprawled like a lion's mane across the gleaming hardwood floor. The scent of fresh linen and something faintly minty filled the air—his cologne. A large platform bed dominated the space, covered in fur bedding that looked as inviting as a warm embrace on a winter's night. The room was bathed in a soft, golden light that highlighted the rich tones of the mahogany furniture.

Cory's bed was an oasis of sensuality. The fur bedding was a stark contrast to the crisp white sheets, inviting me to shed my inhibitions and sink into the plush warmth. The headboard was a work of art, an intricate tapestry of leather and chrome that spoke of his refined taste.

He led me to the bed, his hand never leaving mine. "This is where I recharge," he said, his voice low and intimate. "Where I find my muse." He sat down, his gaze never leaving me as I hovered beside him, unsure of what to do next. I'm fucking tripping out of my mind. "May I have some water, Cory?" I managed to say.

He nodded and stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. He returned with a cold bottle of water, his movements swift and sure. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes searching my face. "Yeah," I lied, taking a sip. "Just tired." "You're nervous," he said with a steady voice. "Nova baby, how can I get you to relax.?" He knelt before me, removing my shoes. "Drink." "Quench your thirst, love." his eyes flickered up to mine briefly before returning to my shoes. He massaged my feet, then my calves.

I leaned back against the headboard, the music wrapping around me like a warm blanket. His touch was gentle yet firm, and the pressure was just right to ease the tension in my muscles. The song on the speakers changed to something slower, the bass thumping like a heartbeat.

He sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes on me as he began to play with my toes, circling them with his thumb. It tickled, sending a wave of pleasure through my body that I couldn't help but giggle at. "You like that?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," I said, taking another sip of water. His eyes never left my face, his gaze intense and unwavering.

His fingers trailed up my legs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The fabric of my dress was the only barrier between his touch and my skin, but it felt as if he could see straight through it. "You're sexy Nova," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the music.

He was visibly sweating, his shirt clinging to his broad chest, the fabric darkening with his desire. "Take off your shirt, Cory," I said, the words slipping from my mouth before I could take them back. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a slow smile spread across his face. He complied, his muscles rippling as he peeled the fabric over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest and the tattoos that danced across his skin like a secret code.

The sight of him made my pulse race, my body responding to the primal call of his masculinity. He leaned in, his breath warm against my neck. "Thank you," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. "For letting me see you like this."

I watched as he took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort to contain his desire. "You're welcome," I said, my voice trembling with anticipation. The air between us was charged, a silent symphony of want that grew louder with every passing second.

His hands found the loose tie of my dress again.

With a gentle tug, Cory had me standing before him, the fabric of my dress sliding down my body like a curtain parting to reveal the stage. I was left in nothing but a scrap of lace that barely covered my ass that was soaked with anticipation. I didn't wear a bra tonight. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly alive under his hungry gaze.

He took my hands in his and pulled me closer, his eyes never leaving my face as he stepped away to the dresser. He pulled out a crisp white beater, holding it out to me with a knowing smile. "Arms up," he murmured, the fabric whispering through the air as he lifted it over my head. The shirt fell over my shoulders, hiding my hardened nipples from his view but doing nothing to ease the ache between my legs.

Cory had a lot of restraint, that was for damn sure. I could see the desire in his eyes, the way he was fighting the urge to tear the shirt away and devour me whole. Instead, he took a step back, his eyes roaming over me with a mix of admiration and hunger.

"You're gorgeous," he said, his voice low and smooth. He sat back on the bed, his legs spread slightly, the one swaying side to side.

Cory leaned forward and pulled me towards him, his strong arms encircling my waist. I stumbled slightly, the fur of the blanket brushing against my legs . His eyes never left mine as he brought me closer, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the coolness of the air.

With a gentle nudge of his nose, he began to trace the soft skin of my stomach, his warm breath sending a shiver through me. I tangled my fingers in his thick, curly hair, holding him close as he explored my body with a tender curiosity that was almost innocent in its intensity. His lips hovered just above my skin, the promise of a kiss that never quite came.

He trailed his nose along the line of my panties, his breath hot and ragged. The fabric was the only thing separating his mouth from my sensitive flesh, and the anticipation was almost unbearable. I could feel the wetness of my desire soaking through the lace, a silent confession of my longing for him.

He paused, his nose pressing into the crease where my thigh met my hip. The sensation was electric, a jolt of pleasure that shot straight to my core. My legs trembled slightly, and he took that as his cue to continue, his nose tracing a path up to the apex of my thighs. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, sending a wave of goosebumps across my body.

The world outside the room ceased to exist, the only reality being the two of us and the dance of his nose and lips across my skin. His hands found their way to the edge of my panties, his fingers deftly sliding them down my legs. I stepped out of them, my heart racing like a runaway train.

He looked up at me, his eyes dark and filled with need. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice gruff. "I don't want to do anything you're not ready for."