Blazed(26)

The stage lights lit him up like a divine entity, the reds, blues and whites reflecting off his bared forearms while he strummed at a guitar, yet his eyes still looked vividly emerald no matter what colour shone at them.

Fascinated, I watched him sing on that stage like he did it every day with a voice as silky as his laugh. The crowd was mad for him, ravenous even, and bounced on their toes to the beat of the drums and bass guitar. On occasion he glanced sideways and shot me a smile that hit me so deep down inside that I started to feel light-headed and winded.

"First time watching him?" I nodded, unable to speak, Chase laughed and crammed a glass into my hand. "He's a complete show off. Great showman. Ah." He pointed out towards the stage just as Blaze took a step back and ran out across the stage, throwing himself over the dangerously small sea of heads and hands that somehow still carried him safely to the back of the room while he continued to sing as though he was standing still. My heart jumped into my mouth the minute his feet left the ground but I quickly coughed it out with a laugh when I knew that he'd reached the foot of the wooden staircase safely.

"He's crazy." I muttered, turning slightly to smile at Chase. I knew my eyes must look far too bright and pupils too dilated like I was drugged. Honestly, it felt like I was.

"He is. Are you too?" There was something in his tone that told me he wasn't talking about my mental stability.

I tested the waters with a vague response. "It's not like that." Instinctively, I thought he was referring to Blaze, but didn't want to risk incriminating myself with any awkward confessions. Besides, when someone implied that a man that transcendent was crazy for me, I couldn't help but be a little sceptical, not really sure how I could possibly deserve that kind of high regard.

"Sure looks like it's 'like that', Emmy. I've spent a long time warning him that one day he'd meet a girl who'd turn his life upside down and force him to seriously consider the way he lives. I'll be the king of Denmark if you're not that girl."

"I'm just a font of sarcasm, uncomplicated sex and a guaranteed lay." Definitely not the dream woman he was making me out to be.

"There's no such thing as uncomplicated sex." He squeezed my shoulder gently and made towards the stage as Blaze emerged next to us, glistening with sweat and his shirt tucked into the waist band of his jeans. Was I really that much of a big deal for this man who was so damned beautiful it hurt to look at him?

"So, what do you think?" Without hesitation, he curled an arm around my waist so our bodies were flush against each other. "Enjoy the show?"

"You're amazing. Ah..." I glanced downwards, hoping that my hair would cover the embarrassment. "Amazing out there. Quite a turn on actually."

"You want me inside you? Too bad you'd just fall asleep afterwards, or I'd service you in the middle of that audience and nobody would ever know. We'll have to wait." I pushed myself back from him and grunted an objection. "It's as much as a disappointment for me too, Emmeline. That skirt is so short..."

"You keep saying," I tugged at the back of it fruitlessly, covering no more flesh that before, "I keep telling you that it's your own damn fault for picking it."

Blaze bit his lip playfully and pulled me back towards him by the V of my vest. "My, don't we get feisty when denied the good lovin'?"

I sneered. "Who says it's good?"

"Oh, mean implication! But I know you're lying." He dipped down and kissed me, softer than he ever had before. I melted into him and wrapped my arms around his bare neck, one hand sliding down to the firm muscles in his chest. I was— I was crazy about him. That much was sure. How I'd ruin my life over another inconvenient fixation was still a mystery. "Just for tonight, Emmeline, let's not focus on why we can't and focus on why we are anyway. Now, nothing would make me happier than seeing you stripped, sweating, caked in glitter and boneless after a good f*cking across that stage..." My jaw hit the floor at his brazenness and my eyes tracked across the length of the stage. That was a tantalising idea but we both knew that it would put an abrupt end to our night. "But I'll compromise and settle for sweating and caked in glitter. For now. Into the fray with you."





Nine





SOMEONE THREW UP in my mouth at some point between 'the fray' and my getting home. I don't remember it, but I was certain it had happened from the way I felt the next morning. That or the apocalypse had happened, localised entirely in my skull.

Sticky eyed, and almost definitely still drunk, I had little to no memory of what had happened after Blaze led me down into the crowd and insisted that I climb on his shoulders. I think I fell, I might have flashed my chest, and for some reason I recall a zebra. The details are a fuzzy black hole in my mind, but what I do know was that I woke up in my bed, undressed and stinking of sweat and liquor. A sequinned orange top hat lay on the bed next to me and the ache between my legs gave me the impression that I might find myself getting another noise complaint. I just hoped it was Blaze who'd left the bite mark on my inner thigh.

It wasn't until I lifted my arm to rub my eyes, I noticed the thick black letters drawn on my skin.



Told you I'd get your number. Call me!

Blaze



But no number to call. In the same second, I realised that there was music playing outside in the lounge and the nauseating smell of greasy food. No... that was the burger I was lying on. No... it was outside. The unmistakable smell of bacon tugging at my gag reflex.

"Blaze?" My shout came with a cough and a hand full of glitter. Well, I appeared to have either had a good time or sucked off a clown. And swallowed.

Half dressed and carrying a breakfast tray, Blaze slammed in singing unreasonably loudly and looking so good it was unfair. I felt like the Crypt Keeper and he looked like f*cking Adonis in the flesh with his own sheen of glitter. It was only his unsteady hobble to me that made him human.

"How dare you look so good on a hangover."

"I'm not hungover." He giggled cheekily and put the tray down on the bed next to me. Again, it was covered in speckles of blood, but somehow it was the glitter that made it look nightmarish. "I haven't slept, I'm still drunk."

I groaned, "me too," and pulled a pillow over my head. "What time is it?"

"Roughly seven in the morning."

"What the f*ck! When did we get back?"

"Five-ish. We stumbled in, I f*cked the hell out of you for about half an hour, you begged me to take the ass, proposed, then passed out with me still inside you."

God knows I wanted that to be a joke, but the play by play flashback ran involuntarily through my mind. "I remember that," I groaned. "I feel like someone's pissed on my brain. Did we have fun?"

"Lots," Blaze assured me, removing my squashed burger from under the duvet before pulling it over us both. "Eat your breakfast so I can curl up on top of you and listen to those exquisite little moans you make when I'm inside you." His leg pinned down both of mine, leverage for him to clamber over me, nuzzle between my breasts and inhale deeply. "I can't get enough of you. Damn it, I can't keep up with how much I want you. Your tiny waist, flawless skin, your sweet, pink, tight little pu—"

"Shit, Blaze!" I blushed violently at the way he spoke about my body. Those buzz words were fine, yes, if said in regards to someone else. Drunk Blaze had a dirty mouth and I have to admit, it got me a little hot under the collar.

"Oh, but Emmeline!" He whined pitifully and ran his tongue down my body until he disappeared beyond the duvet. "You're so snug and still full of my cum..."

"Oh god, don't—"

There went another hour of my morning, my breakfast on the floor and a large chunk of my so-called innocence. I guess I spoke a little prematurely about how dirty his mouth was.





MY POST-COITAL POWER naps seemed to be getting shorter. I didn't know if that meant my body was becoming immune to my soporific endorphins or eager to get back to the person who triggered them. I was almost physically addicted to Blaze and needed more and more of him to satisfy the cravings.

But having to leave me to wake up alone seemed to be wearing thin. Still drunk and 'shagged out', Blaze had needed to leave me right away before he fell asleep next to me and retreat to the couch. I desperately wanted to let him rest with me, but we both knew already what my brain would do when we woke up together— freak out. I was scared of how I'd react if he was there, petrified by the big question mark that hung over my own indecisive mind. I didn't want to turn polar and kick him out of my life, afraid to let him into my heart, anymore than I wanted to become one of those needy, psychopathic girlfriends who became irrational and demanding. So I evicted him to the lounge and slept alone, listening for signs of him around when I woke up.