“Not really.”
She’d been on my mind since I walked away from her mother last night. When I reached the studio, it relieved me to find Maitland there, giving his drum kit a work out. For an hour, we blended our sounds, but my resentment crept back in and I lost my enthusiasm, so I called Kiln and returned to the hotel. Not that I’d gotten much sleep. Georgie had been on my mind and I figured she’d have no one to visit her. The moment I saw her, though, I remembered the taste of her pussy and the feel of her mouth on me. Jealousy had reared its ugly, green head. I’d had to be certain that she sucked my dick because of who I was and not for any other reason.
The door suddenly opens and Georgie stumbles away at the same time that I release her as if she’s turned into hot coals. An older nurse circles to Georgie’s other side. A flush sweeps Georgie’s skin, but I keep my focus steady and cool as I stand, so the nurse can get near the monitors. In silence, she checks Georgie’s blood pressure, grabs a pen and small pad from her pocket, and writes the vitals down before adjusting the IV bag. “Back in bed, miss,” she says sternly, holding out Georgie’s oxygen line. The teddy bears on her scrubs bely her brusque manner.
“My granddaughter is a huge fan of yours,” the nurse says casually, not looking at me while she focuses on getting Georgie resituated.
I nod, unable to detect her mood or her suspicion. There’s no crime in hugging Georgie, but my hard cock and Georgie’s protruding nipples give us away.
She holds out her notepad. “Would you sign this for her?”
“Of course.” She places the paper and pen in my outstretched hand. “Name?”
“Ursula,” she says, beaming at me.
Always rise, I scribble my usual message, before signing my name. Although she has no hope of seeing what I’ve written, Georgie’s nosiness has her craning her neck in a valiant attempt. I laugh under my breath and send a very happy nurse on her way.
When I look at Georgie, she quickly glances away and I laugh aloud. “Always rise,” I tell her.
“What?”
“My autograph. That’s what I write before I sign my name.”
She doesn’t pretend that she wasn’t curious. “I like that.”
“Would you like my autograph?”
She rolls her eyes. “What a stupid fucking question. Of course.”
Her foul language dissolves my good humor. Irritation surges in me and I glare at her. “You’re undisciplined.”
“Not really.” She struggles to resist probing deeper but she loses. “Why do you think that?”
“You curse like a sailor. You drink. You’re at adult parties. You have no direction.”
“That’s better than straying from a course already set,” she snaps, looking pointedly at me. “What are you doing here? Why do you care? Why me? Because I sucked your dick? My cock sucks are that fucking awesome that a world-famous rock star is blowing off recording sessions on my behalf?”
Her ungratefulness adds to my lingering outrage at her filthy words. “Why you?” I repeat. “Why not you?”
“Because you’re going to shower me with attention and still fucking walk away when your time here is over. Where will that leave me? Still alone.”
She’s right. Sighing, I drop back into my seat and rub my hands over my face in frustration. “You’re so fucking young, Georgiana. You have your entire life ahead of you. The night we met you were so fucking strung out, I doubt you remembered your goddamn name.” In the heat of this honesty, I can think of no other example, although I’m certain if I’d demanded she identify herself, she would have. “Why you? Because you’re me all over again and I want you to have what I’ve never had.” Not since Steffie’s death. “Support.”
“Thank you,” she says quietly, but her joy is gone. I’ve made her sound like a charity case.
Her downcast eyes and her air of capitulation hurts my dick. I want her like this in my bed. Maybe, I’ll fly her to Europe during Thanksgiving. There, she’s legal to fuck.
The idea is brilliant and it cheers me until I realize I might not get her out of my system even if I have her. I feel a connection to her, a mysterious bond that’s becoming harder and harder to ignore.
Still fighting it, her, I change the subject. “The music is shit.”