He lowered the height of the microphone stand and the piercings in his ni**les glittered with his movements.
The women in the audience screamed, including Shawna, who jumped in place and gave an earsplitting whistle.
I totally got it.
Sitting there as he was, with his feet propped on the rungs of the chair and his muscular arms covered in sleeves of black and gray tattoos, Brett looked insanely sexy and extremely f**kable.
For six months nearly four years ago I'd debased myself to get him na**d every chance I could, so infatuated with him and desperate to be loved that I took whatever scraps he threw me.
Gideon's fingers began to slide in and out of me.
The bass kicked in.
Brett began to sing a song I'd never heard before, his voice low and soulful, the words crystal clear.
He had the voice of a fallen angel.
Mesmerizing.
Seductive.
And the face and body to enhance the temptation.
Golden girl, there you are.
I'm singing for the crowd, the music's loud.
I'm living my dream, riding the high, But I see you there, sunlight in your hair, And I'm ready to go, desperate to fly.
Golden girl, there you are.
Dancing for the crowd, the music's loud.
I want you so bad.
I can't look away.
Later, you'll drop to your knees.
You'll beg me please.
And then you'll go, it's only your body I know.
Golden girl, where'd you go? You're not there, with sunlight in your hair.
I could have you in the bar or the back of my car, But never your heart.
I'm falling apart.
I'll drop to my knees, I'll beg you.
Please.
Please don't go.
There's so much more I want to know.
Eva, please.