Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Babe,” I laugh into our kiss. “I gotta work and the guys are right in the booth. We can’t… no.”
“Spoilsport,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
I’m frozen to the spot for a few seconds, disturbed by her tone and the look on her face. This isn’t my Verity. The last few days, maybe weeks, I’ve known something was off, but didn’t want to push it. Wasn’t sure if I was imagining it. I assumed it was this project that’s taken up so much of her time, but maybe I’m missing something.
“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her to sit at the soundboard beside me.
She slumps in the chair and crosses her arms over her chest, lips pushed into a pout.
“Hey, guys.” I press the talk-back button to tell them, “Sorry about that. Let’s take it from the top. You clear on the new stuff, Bret?”
“Got it.” He nods and takes his seat at the piano.
Verity reaches down to the backpack I hadn’t noticed on the floor and pulls out her ever-present notebook. She crosses her legs and props it on her knee. I have to force my focus to the booth, since now that she’s sitting down, her dress rides up to the tops of her thighs.
“Alright,” I tell the musicians. “Let’s get into it.”
After a few minutes, I lock in, my attention completely on the song and the nuances of capturing it. Engineering isn’t something I’ve studied, and it doesn’t come as naturally as playing. But I’ve picked up enough from the last few years working at this studio to be competent.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Verity go to her knees. She must have dropped her pen or something. I adjust the volume on the piano, pulling it up and taking the standing bass down. Bret touches one side of his headphones, points to Gary, and hikes his thumb up, so I give him more trumpet in his ears.
Movement on the floor at my feet drags my focus away from the musicians. Verity is on her knees, legs folded under her so she sits on her heels. The top of her head presses into the soundboard. Before I can ask what the hell she’s doing down there, she unzips my pants and pulls my dick out.
“Vee,” I snap, keeping my voice low, but unable to take my hands off the board while the musicians are still playing. “What are you doing? Get up.”
“You were right. I am bored.” Her grin turns salacious. “At least one of us should be having a good time.”
She bends to take the head between her lips and pleasure jolts up my spine. I’m so startled and unnerved, my fingers slide off the knobs I’m turning to adjust the levels. For a moment, I want to push her head down so she takes me all the way to the back of her throat, but reason kicks in.
“Babe, no.” My voice comes out as a furious hiss. “You can’t do this shit.”
“I’m doing it.” She shrugs and pushes down farther until the length of my dick disappears completely into her mouth. She bobs, smearing bright pink lipstick around me, her beautiful eyes not looking away from my face as her throat closes around me.
“Fuuuuck, Vee.” I slide back abruptly from the soundboard to get her mouth off and tuck my dick back into my pants.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, spreading her legs so the dress rides up even farther to reveal the enticing shadow at the apex of her thighs.
“Dammit.” I lean forward to push the talk-back button, stopping them in the middle of the bridge. “Guys, gimme five.”
Each of them looks various shades of confused and pissed.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I tell them. “Let me take care of one thing and you get an hour of studio time on me.”
Some of the anger fades from their expressions, but they still look annoyed. It’s the money, yes, but it’s also the time and effort. It’s taken them a while to find this groove and I’m disturbing it.
I grab Verity by the elbow, pull her to her feet, and walk her toward the exit.
“Wait,” she shouts, tugging away. “My backpack.”
She grabs her bag from the floor and totters on the too-high heels through the door. I don’t even spare a glance into the booth. I already know the guys are tuned into the show we’re giving them.
In the hall, I turn to her, struggling to check my irritation.
“What has gotten into you?” I demand.
“Not you, obviously,” she mumbles, wiping around her mouth where the lipstick smears, matching the ring around my dick.
“You can’t come to my job and pull this, Vee. It’s unprofessional. I know something’s been going on with you, but—”
“You don’t know shit,” she snaps, her eyes slitted and scornful. “I came here to do you a favor, make you feel good in this boring-ass session, and this is the thanks I get.”