Beautiful Musician (6 page)

“
I made it,” she
said.

“
You most certainly did.”
I gave her a loud, happy kiss, smacking her lips with
mine.

She squealed and wrapped her arms
around me. Tonight, life was good, becoming everything it should
be.

I said, “Before I take you to your
surprise, I want to tell you about it.”

“
You can’t just let me see
it?”

“
I’d rather tell you
first.” I thought that was the best way to make this work.
Otherwise, how was she going to see what I wanted her to see? In
order to plant the right hallucination in her mind, I needed to
describe the upcoming visual.

“
Okay. Go ahead. Tell
me.”

“
It’s in the middle of the
garden. In the arbor covered in wisteria. It’s especially pretty
now because the flowers are blooming.” I paused for effect. “We
made a fairy den out of it.”

Her gaze locked onto mine.
“We?”

“
Me and Face and Bud. We
did it together. Face flew up and around the wisteria and hung
strings of lights throughout the vines. He put lights inside the
arbor itself, too. Bud directed the whole scenario, making sure
each of us did our jobs.”

“
What was your
job?”

“
I decorated the den with
streamers and candles and pots of flowers. I also got the food and
laid it out on a pretty blanket. It’s an assortment of pastries:
cupcakes with buttercream frosting and colorful sprinkles,
custard-filled pie, chocolates in the shapes of hearts. I got
sparkling cider, too. We can pretend its champagne and toast each
other.” I figured it was better to keep alcohol out of the equation
since she wasn’t old enough to drink, and I’d nearly gotten bombed
earlier.

“
I can’t wait.” She hopped
up and down, light on her feet in spite of her heavy boots. She
looked so bright and happy, wonderfully pleased with the
description of my surprise.

“
I’m going to sing you a
song I wrote, too.”

“
Is your guitar in the
arbor?”

I nodded. “It’s an authentic 1939
Martin acoustic.” By most standards, a guitar like that would be
staggeringly expensive, but in the sphere of schizophrenia, I could
afford to own one. “The song is about a blue-eyed fae. That’s why
we made the arbor into a fairy den.”

She sighed like a smitten
teenager, which was exactly what she was.
Nineteen and Crazy
. Like the country
song, only with a different interpretation.

“
Can we go there now?” she
asked.

“
Absolutely.” We walked
toward the center of the garden, with the moon and the stars for
company.

As we approached the arbor, she
gasped. “Oh, Seven. It’s beautiful.”

It was a work of art, at least to us,
anyway. No one else would be able to see it. If someone from the
staff came outside, all they would find was Abby alone in the
garden, without the idyllic trimmings.

I tried not dwell on how truly sad
that was or how it made me ache inside. I pushed away the bad
feelings and took her hand.

We ducked into the arbor and I said,
“The blanket is blue and trimmed in lace, and the lights are soft
pastels, just like the streamers.” I wanted her to see it exactly
the way we’d created it. We’d spent hours working on it, treating
it as if it was real. “The candles aren’t burning yet. I’ll light
them now.” I removed an old-style Bic from my pocket and flicked
it. “They’re caramel-scented candles in jeweled
decanters.”

“
This is the most magical
place ever.” Imagination bloomed in her eyes. “I love it.” She
pressed a hand to her heart. “Everything is perfect. And the
pastries. They look delicious. Where did you get them?”

“
From a bakery in 105.”
I’d paid for them fair and square. If I’d gotten them here, I
would’ve had to steal them. “All of the decorations came from 105,
too.”

We sat down together, and I opened the
cider and poured it. I lifted my flute to hers. “To the most
amazing girl I’ve ever known.”

Her glass clinked with mine. “And the
most amazing boy. You’re my beautiful musician, Seven.”

Her compliment tugged at my heart,
reminding me that she was my beautiful muse. We would always belong
to each other in that way.

She glanced around. “Where’s your
guitar?”

“
Over there.” I gestured
behind us. “I covered the case in rose petals.”

“
Oh, yes. I see. Oh, my
goodness. You thought of everything.”

I leaned forward to kiss her, soft,
slow, and rife with passion. The caramel candles had begun scenting
the air, making the moment sweeter.

Soon we were indulging in the
pastries, feeding each other bits of cake and pie and chocolate.
While we ate, we made sounds of pleasure. It was downright
orgasmic.

When the time came for me to sing her
my song, my nerves kicked in. Once she heard the lyrics, she would
know for certain how tragically in love with her I was.

Chapter Eleven

I dusted the rose petals
off the case and opened it, removing my prized guitar. Eric Clapton
had used one in his iconic unplugged performance of
Tears from Heaven
, and
somehow that seemed fitting. The fairy in my song was from
heaven.

I played it for Abby. I sang it from
deep within my tortured soul.

Tears rushed to her eyes. She
understood. She comprehended the message.

She was the blue-eyed fae who sprouted
from the angels, her wings constructed from paper and glue and
glitter.

So easily torn. So easily
damaged.

The fairy’s smile was slightly
crooked, her hair blonde and ragged. She was afraid of sleeping in
the dark, but she danced in the moonlight when no one was looking.
She wore clothes her sister gave her, and she took medicine that
didn’t matter.

She was the light of my meta-universe
life. Without her, there would be no me. I was Seven because of
her, and she always made me smile.

If the monsters attacked me, I would
bleed into the ground, giving her what was left of me. Warm and
red. Crimson from my veins. Scarlet from my heart.

I was hers, and she was
mine.

When the song ended and I put my
guitar aside, Abby climbed onto my lap, face forward, so we could
look into each other’s eyes.

“
I love you,” she said,
her voice, her words, spiraling through me. “I think I’ve loved you
from the first moment I saw you, only I was too young to know
it.”

“
I think it was like that
for me, too.” I scooped my arms around her. This was the kind of
hallucination everyone should have.

She rocked against me, putting her
mouth to my ear. “Let’s go back to my room. Let’s take off our
clothes and do what people do.”

Her suggestion made me weak. I wanted
her more than anything, but I knew better than to act too soon. “We
shouldn’t be together like that, Abby.”

Her chest rose and fell, and her tone
was soft and pleading. “Yes, we should.”

I inhaled the caramel that permeated
her skin. Desire battled for control, assaulting my senses. “No, we
shouldn’t.”

“
Why not?”

“
Because it will make
losing each other worse.”

“
Can’t we just mess around
a little?”

“
A little will never be
enough.”

“
It’s better than not at
all.”

Angels and fairies and desperate bits
of sex. She was right. To abstain completely would hurt beyond
repair. I lifted her up and carried her out of the den, the lights
flickering behind us.

“
What’s going to happen in
the morning?” she asked. “When someone from The Manor sees how you
decorated the arbor and finds our half-eaten food and your
guitar?”

“
Bud and Face are going to
put it back the way it was before morning comes. They’ll pack up my
guitar, too.”

“
Your song was the most
special song in the world.”

“
Only because it was for
you.” I’d never talked this way to a girl before. But I meant every
white-hot word I said.

We reached the gate, and I put Abby
down. I watched her climb over it, thinking what a fine little ass
she had. And now all I wanted was to cup its round perfection in my
hands.

I followed her over the gate, and we
ran to her window like breathless children, reaching it in record
time.

Once we were inside her room, the
dance of sweet destruction began.

“
We’re not going to take
our clothes all the way off,” I said. If we stripped naked, I
wouldn’t be able to hold back. “We’ll get rid of our shirts, but
leave our jeans on.”

Her cheeks flushed. “So you’re not
going to touch me down there?”

“
Yeah, I’m going to touch
you there, but I’ll do it with my hand inside your
jeans.”

The flush got brighter. Pretty and
pink. “That’s how I do it to myself when I fantasize about
you.”

My vision blurred. My cock flared. I
fantasized about her relentlessly. Sometimes when I was fucking
other women, I imagined that I was inside her, thrusting all the
way to her throat, but I decided not to mention that.

I removed my shoes and shirt and
waited for Abby to do the same. She went slowly, toying with the
laces on her boots and fussing with the hem of her T-shirt. I
wasn’t about to tell her to hurry. The anticipation aroused me even
more.

Finally, she stood before me in her
bra.

I flashed my dirtiest smile. I was
just moments away from taking her to bed and giving her a creamy
orgasm.

She unhooked her bra. Her breasts were
small, but I’d always believed that more than a mouthful was a
waste.

I moved forward and tugged her against
me, fusing her nipples to my chest. While we were in that position,
I took the liberty of cupping her ass, just once, the way I wanted
to.

We got under the covers and kissed,
our bodies still pressed together. I dry humped her, rubbing my
pelvis against hers and letting her feel how hard I was. If I’d
been any less experienced, I would’ve popped. But I’d learned to
control my urges.

Someday I would make proper love to
her, when the threat of losing each other was gone.

If it was ever gone.

I licked her nipples, going back and
forth and making each one stand at attention; I put my thumb inside
her belly button; I worked my hand into her jeans.

Past her panties.

Down.

Farther down.

To her clit.

She nearly jumped off the bed. I’d hit
her hot little button. Her eyes drifted half-closed. She whispered
my name, so warm, so feathery.

I upped the ante, putting my fingers
inside, yet still keeping a pulse on her clit. Her muscles went
taut, the heat between her legs deliciously wet.

Making her come was my mission, and I
did it well.

Abby lifted her hips and thrashed with
pleasure. She opened her eyes. I was braced on one elbow, watching
her expression, and she dragged me down for a kiss.

We rolled over the bed, kicking the
covers out of our way. She rubbed me through my jeans, producing
feel-good friction. Satan himself couldn’t have tempted me more.
But I refrained from yanking off my pants.

Good-bad me.

This wasn’t the time, and I was
determined to wait. We slowed down, floating in a sea of
togetherness. But that didn’t stop her from climaxing again, her
paper wings taking flight.

And sprinkling glitter all over
me.

Chapter Twelve

In the afterglow, she smiled, and my
heart raced to the moon. It was the best sexual experience I’d ever
had, and I hadn’t even gotten laid.

She nudged my fly. “You’re still
hard.”

“
I can’t help it. You have
that effect on me.”

“
Can I see?”

Little minx. She was flashing a dimple
in the corner of her mouth that rarely made an appearance. “We
already established the rules, missy. I’m keeping my pants
on.”

“
Come on, Seven. Just let
me peek into your jeans.”

Holy mother. I stared at her smile. At
her dimple. She was going to be the destruction of me yet. “All
right. One peek.”

I unzipped my pants. This made me feel
like I was in middle school and I’d never even gone to school. I
wasn’t formally educated. I just knew what I knew.

I opened the denim a tad wider, and
she glanced at the body part in question. It preened under her
attention, bopping forward.

When she reached in to touch it, I
pulled my jeans closed. “No way, Abby. We’re not going
there.”

“
Drat.” She watched me zip
my jeans. “I really like how it looked. Big and hard and milky at
the tip.”