The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(63)
They had managed to push themselves quite close to the front, and now Zainon Matthews was within just a few feet of her. He was even more handsome than in his poster, and the way he worked the stage—his raw, thrilling voice reverberating through the microphone—sent tingles of something Ella couldn’t quite identify shooting up her spine. His stormy, light eyes were lined with black kohl, making them glitter with intensity in the bright lights, and he seemed larger than life as he ran back and forth, entertaining the enormous crowd. He was wearing torn black jeans adorned with gleaming silver chains, a tight, sleeveless black shirt from which his tattooed biceps bulged sexily, and several big silver rings on his hands. His midnight black hair was dripping with sweat, and no matter how often he slicked it back, a lock fell forward onto his smooth, pale forehead.
Ella was mesmerized. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone quite so charismatic in her entire life.
The people around her were singing along, pumping their fists in the air, jumping up and down in time to the beat… but she remained frozen in place, oblivious to everything and everyone else.
She didn’t want the night to ever end, and with the start of each new song, her heart sank a little bit lower at the certainty that soon, it would be over and she would have to return to a life so miserable that tears of desolation pricked her eyelids at the mere thought of getting back into Josh’s car.
Blinking them back, she reminded herself of her resolution to enjoy every moment of the evening and not waste a second of it thinking about what was waiting for her afterward. So she lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and let Zainon’s voice soothe her very soul. It felt almost as though he were penetrating her with his music. Greg was trying to say something to her, yelling to make himself heard, but Ella uncharacteristically ignored him. Instead she stared at the man on stage, willing him to look at her—just once.
And then it happened. During a ballad, as he slowed to a swaggering walk toward the front of the stage, Zainon turned his head and, for a heart stopping, breathtaking moment, his piercing eyes met Ella’s.
She could quite happily have died right at that moment, for she knew she would never, ever feel this good again.
“You’re nearly done,” Thorn said, throwing Zainon a towel with which to wipe his face. “Just the encore to go and then we can party.”
Zainon accepted the bottle of water his oldest friend handed him and took several grateful swallows. His throat was on fire, every part of his body ached, and he was wringing with sweat. But he wouldn’t have changed a single thing. Zainon Matthews had two great loves in his life, and his music was one of them. As for the other one, he would indulge that after a nice cold shower. “Thanks,” he said, handing the bottle back to Thorn.
“We doing the usual thing tonight?” Thorn asked, raising an eyebrow.
Zainon grinned. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”
“Because, frankly, you look shattered.”
“You try jumping around and belting out songs for nearly two hours,” Zainon said wryly. “We’ll see how you look then.” He poked Thorn in the gut. “Although you could do with the exercise.”
Thorn guffawed. “Asshole.” Then, “So did anyone in particular catch your eye?”
Zainon closed his eyes, blotting out the roars of ‘encore!’ in the background as he tried to visualize that evening’s audience. “Just a couple,” he said, taking the notepad Thorn held out and scribbling down a few descriptions before handing it back to his friend. “Remember the rule. No ID, no entry.”
“I know,” Thorn said, rolling his eyes. “For how long have we been doing this? It ain’t my first rodeo.”
“Thank Christ for that.”
“You’d better get back out there.” Thorn hooked a thumb over his shoulder, where the clamors for Zainon were getting louder. “Your fans are getting restless.”
Fans, Zainon mused as he threw the towel to a nearby roadie and slicked his hair back off his forehead. He’d been writing and singing songs his whole life, but it had only been a couple of years since his big break, and he still wasn’t used to the idea of so many people showing up and paying money just to see him. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.
Taking a deep breath, he spent a moment just listening to the crowd as they chanted his name over and over again. Performing was better than any drug. Hell, it was better than anything in the world—with maybe one exception. With a broad, mischievous smile, he leapt back out onto the stage.
It was almost over. Ella was already close to tears. Too fast, it went too damn fast, she thought helplessly. Zainon was back onstage, his deep, throaty voice once again caressing her very being. I know I said I’d be happy just to go, but now I’m here, I want more, she thought suddenly. More of this, more of him, just more…
Someone was tapping her shoulder, over and over again. It was too firm and insistent to be Greg, and besides, he was on her other side. Turning, she saw a huge, bald man with an earnest expression. His black t-shirt had ‘Security’ emblazoned across it, and a tendril of panic unfurled in her stomach. Had she done something wrong? Oh please, don’t let it end this way, with me being escorted out of here by security…
“Yes?” she said, as politely as she could amidst the shoving, yelling people.