Page 36 of Anything But Lonely
I let the scene continue to play out in my mind. She leans in, her lips just inches from mine. Teasing me as she looks directly into my eyes, and it’s the stark contrast that has me reeling.
How she can be so fearless yet so vulnerable—like how she watched me sing and then she put me in my place.
Her lips finally touch mine, and her strokes pick up speed as our kiss deepens. She smiles against my lips as I moan into her mouth. And then she’s gone. Down on her knees, wrapping those lips around my cock, her head bobbing up and down as I hold her wet, dark hair in my hand.
The scene in my mind is too much, but I can’t stop. I can’t stop picturing it, chasing my release until it rips through me, coming in my hand so hard that I need to put my other hand against the shower wall to keep my knees from buckling.
I don’t open my eyes at first, too scared that reality will come crashing down on me hard enough to recover from.
And it does.
Heat rushes to my chest and up my neck—embarrassment flooding through me at how I haven’t come so hard in months, if not years, to just the thought of my son’s nanny.
I can’t do this again. Ever again.
Maybe this is enough to get whatever she put into my system that night at Lenny’s out. Whatever spell she cast on me is hopefully now broken, and I can go on with my life pretending that this was just an inconsequential detail of my day, a need for release, a brief moment of weakness.
Rinsing myself off, I turn off the water—but not before letting a rush of cold water rain down on me. I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist as I slide open the glass door.
No more thinking about my nanny.
My son’s nanny.
Shaking my head, I feel the wet strands of hair hit against my cheeks as I make my way to the bedroom, grabbing a pair of shorts and a cut-off T-shirt.
I quickly get dressed, running my hands through my hair to get it out of my face before grabbing my phone to head back to the venue. I stop in my tracks, finding a text from Emerson.
Because why wouldn’t the universe like to throw her in my face at the exact moment I’m vowing to never think about her again? It probably likes kicking me while I’m down.
Emerson
Crew wanted me to send you this.
It’s a picture of Crew wearing a pair of sunglasses that are way too big for him as he stands on a swing, holding the chain in both hands with a big grin.
This too.
Playing the video she attached, I can’t help but laugh to myself. It’s a video of Crew standing on one of the park benches, singing into a stick he must have found there. Turning up the volume on my phone, I can make out his version of the lyrics he heard me sing today. The melody is there, and the mumbling and made-up words somehow make the song even better.
He says he can’t wait to see you sing again tonight.
I find myself smiling at my phone like an idiot, my heart beating a little faster with every text that comes in.
Hiring a nanny was a dumb idea.
There’s something about the few minutes before we go on stage that always has my blood pumping, my adrenaline flowing, my body energized.
It’s a feeling better than any high yet just as addicting.
It has me forgetting about how much of an idiot I was today, allowing the shame and embarrassment of how I acted to fade away in the air, leaving nothing but what matters in its wake.
I bounce on the balls of my feet, moving my weight from one foot to the other as I wait for our cue. Eddie, Theo, and Silas are just in front of me, waiting for the stage lights to go down.
I’m nervous—in a different way than usual. And I know it’s because of how soundcheck went today, as well as who will be watching me from the side stage for the first half of the show.
The crowd is insane, already making the ground shake as the timer on the big screen gets to the last thirty seconds.
Sugarcoated Lies played their best set tonight, and I think it has all to do with our audience. This venue is one of the biggest on our farewell tour, and it’s also one of the first that sold out when tickets went live last year.
