How to Love a Blue Demon (4 page)

“I’m
no throwaway bitch,” she told Priti, who hated anything “down to earth.” If she could drape Cass in head to toe glitter every day she would. She always complained volubly whenever Cass appeared in the media in the same clothes and tried to nag her friend into shopping more often.

“I’ll get something new for special occasi
ons,” Cass told her. “Everything else ya’ll are just gonna have to look at me in what I got on.”

Th
ree hours later, Cass yawned. It was almost 3 a.m. She did some fast calculations in her head and estimated if she packed and showered in 30 minutes she could get six hours of sleep and still make her afternoon flight.

She’d worked up several tweaks to her set that her band
and her fans would love. Lee she still didn’t know what to do about. She’d been restless for months, but she was kind hearted, and she did love Lee, even if she was no longer in love with him.

He’d been the male star in one of her videos for her last album, and they’d clicked instantly. He’d told her he loved her before they
even slept together. Not that he had to wait forever. He insisted on seeing her every day and on the fifth day he said it so sweetly and sincerely, she swore later he just wore her down.

“He teased me to death,” she
said in one of their press interviews and he’d blushed beautifully.

B
ut that was more than two years ago. Cass liked to shake things up; Lee didn’t. He liked to be comfortable. Their sex life was good, but it was also predictable, so were their conversations. Plus, he was drinking too much to suit her.

Cass had
done it all, but she hadn’t taken drugs of any kind in years, and could count on one hand the number of times she’d been out of control drunk. That wasn’t fun for her anymore. She had no need to mask the unpleasantness of life; her life was fabulous, and being high was temporary. Music was forever.

“I’m tryna build a fuckin’ legend,” she told a musician right before she fired him for coming
to rehearsal stoned, again. “I warned you,” she told his shocked face, right before security showed him out. “My shit is gold to me,” she told the musicians that remained. “This is important. It’s not a game, and I’m not a toy, so don’t play with me. Do what you want on your time. On mine, you work.”

She
washed quickly in the studio’s small bathroom and curled up on the couch. She pulled the blanket on its back over herself and yawned, already half asleep. She often slept in her studio when she was working. With the bathroom, a small refrigerator and the couch she could stay in it for hours.

She’d
already put out her favorite Chanel suit jacket to wear tomorrow. She’d bought it as soon as she was able. She’d worn the suit many times, sometimes just the skirt, sometimes just the jacket. The press often called her the queen of high low fashion since she’d rock one piece or the other with a t-shirt or jeans. But she wasn’t trying to be fashionable. She liked looking good, but that suit represented a tangible moment. It was a wearable symbol of everything Cass valued in life: beauty, quality and freedom.

The slave was trying to be quiet, and E
yoen appreciated it. The pitch of her keening was a bit disconcerting. As was the fact that he was distracted. Usually he reveled in the sounds of female moans, of the slap of flesh against flesh and the slick smush of wet cunt around his hard cock.

But tonight he couldn’
t get into it. Oh, his cock was hard, and the lush cunt it was wrapped in was as hot and wet as cunts could be. But his attention just wasn’t there. He sighed, slapping the side of the girl’s flank and leaning back to disengage their bodies.

She obligingly flopped over onto her belly and stuck her ass out for him. She arched and preened when he stroked her back and her bum, enjoying the caress like the hedonist she was.

Trini has always been one of his favorites for that reason. She enjoyed sex and had no hidden agenda. She wasn’t angling for baubles or money or position, though he gave all freely. There was no secret longing to be more than his faithful concubine, and for that, before he left for earth he wondered if he should grant her freedom.

He quickened his thrusts, suddenly wanting to be alone. The moans bubbled freely from her lips now; she could no longer hold them in and he grunted, pleased
despite his distraction. He pounded her harder – she’d always liked a good hard fuck – and she cried out his name as she came. She fell forward onto her nose into his pillows, but only for a second. After she sighed gustily and stretched her long-limbed body she took his cock in her mouth.

Skilled as she was it only took a few minut
es for him to spend.

“Ready to leave, master?” she whispered, her throaty purr pleasing to his distracted ears.

“Yes, my dear. I am ready. Tell me. While I’m gone would you like your freedom?”

Trini’s eyes widened. “Freedom to leave the star and go off on my own?”

He nodded. “We’d set you up somewhere. Isn’t there a package for retired slaves? A certain number of
cassa
per year and a small home?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. I will b
e entitled to those things in five
desha.
”

“It’s a long time,” he said quietly
, of the approximately 18 earth months that equaled one
desha
.

Trini looked over at her master. He was an incredibly handsome creature, one of the best lovers she’d ever had too. Now, watching him lie on his back, hands behind his well shaped head she knew he’d half forgotten that she existed, and she didn’t mind a bit.

She rolled over on top of him, straddling his hips and lifting her large breasts in small hands. She watched as his eyes sparked slightly with interest, as she caressed her flesh in the same way his hands soon would. She leaned forward and brushed her nipple against his full, red lips until they parted and began to suck. As he suckled her, she lifted his swelling dick and tucked it back inside her warmth.

“
Let’s talk about my freedom later. Give me something to think about while you’re gone, master,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be lonely.”

And Eyoen did. But it was Cass that he thrust into,
it was for her that his back arched, his eyes closed, and his mouth went slack against the pleasure streaking through his body. It was Cass’ long, brown body he flipped over and began to thrust into as though his life depended on making the warm female beneath him squeal with pleasure.

Everything was tangled in his mind. His need for an earth woman he had never touched but had watched for years. His desire to put his mouth on her throat, to bite and lick and suck until she screamed out the way Trini was as her second
– or was it third? – climax ripped through her body. Eyoen wanted Cass with every fiery breath that he took, every beat of his heart, every surge of yellow blood in his veins.

He wanted the drops of gorgeously scented sweat that fell onto Trini’s body to
fall on Cass, to drive Cass’ pleasure higher because she was unable to resist the pheromones his kind secreted when rutting. He wanted the musician’s short, clear painted nails to score his arms and his back as he pistoned inside her until the sound became a rhythmic click in an otherwise silent room. He wanted Cass so badly, as the cum shot from his body in great pulsing jets, he called her name.

Trini just smiled. After all, he was inside of her
, whoever this Cass might be.

******

Cass woke up the next morning moaning. For a second she was confused. Was she having a wet dream? But then she realized Lee was licking between her legs. Her back arched as he pulled her clit into his mouth and sucked it like a nipple. He’d pushed her t-shirt up; she felt the air on her breasts and the fabric bunched around her neck.

“Harder,” she gasped, and he obliged, sucking her so hard it almost hurt before he
pushed in one finger, then two, spread them and fucked her with them until she came, his name on her lips.

She welcomed his weight when he lay down on top of her, welcomed the familiar movements as he made himself comfortable between her legs and thrust inside her.
Early in the morning, when he was hungry and she was sleepy, she adored Lee. The familiar scent of his neck against her nose, the thump of his heart against her breast as he began to thrust fast and hard, almost growling as he fucked her, even as her body was winding up for another orgasm, it made her feel peaceful to give him what he wanted.

“Need to get going,” he rasped, face smushed against her breast
post-orgasm. He pulled a nipple into his mouth and began to suck gently, comforting himself, she knew.

Cass stroked his thick blonde hair and laughed softly. “Hey, you’re holding me down, not the other way around.”

As soon as the words left her lips she wanted to call them back. They were true. She knew then, even as she smiled at him and let him pull her to her feet, it was over.

******

New York felt good. Chicago was home, but Cass had always liked the frenetic energy that simmered over the Big Apple. It was like having some weird protein shot right into the vein. The paparazzi were more aggressive there, and there were more of them. They knew she’d arrived before her plane ever hit the ground. So did her fans; in the airport she paused to sign autographs until a car whisked her away to the studio where she would record a live set.

“Be sure to watch me on VH1!” She called, waving and smiling as she was driven away.

In the studio people would have fluttered around her, unintentionally harassing her as they fawned, trying to make sure she had everything she needed. But Cass wasn’t the typical star. She didn’t need much beyond a plug for her amps, her musicians and a bottle of water or tea from Starbucks. And Priti, Boyd or her second oldest friend Lucky were the only ones she trusted to bring her food or drink. Her assistant, security and manager respectively, they made up the core of her inner circle. Her old friend Tommy rounded out the crew. Tommy was technically an image consultant, but Cass liked to tease her and call her a fixer. She was a fabulous negotiator and problem solver, and while TomTom as her close friends called her, let Lucky do all the in person work, she often leveraged her special skills behind the scenes.

Lucky and h
er musicians were already there waiting, having arrived the night before as was their custom to ensure the equipment had survived the trip and was set up to her exact specifications before the show began.

Lucky, who’d been her very first lover and boyfriend
at age 16, had a gift for organization and enough charm to ensure the VH1 people kept to the tight schedule he and Cass had set. They had eight hours start to finish, and everyone knew Cass would hold them to it.

The time flew by. She’d gathered a crowd of onlookers three people deep by the time she played 10 songs and made everyone laugh until they cried. In all but two she played the guitar, one of three she’d brought with this trip, two electric,
one acoustic.

“She has no idea how beautiful she is,” Priti told Boyd, placing her hand over his on her belly.

He stood solidly behind her, his chin resting on the top of her head even as his eyes roamed continuously looking for anything – including the boogie man, he’d once told Cass – that might pop out and harm their friend. His thick arms were loose around her, both large hands splayed protectively over her belly. She was four months pregnant, and they were engaged, planning to go down to city hall before the baby came. Priti refused to get married in church until she got her body back.

“Of course she does,” he rumbled.

But Priti wasn’t referring to the obvious physical beauty but to the combination of it with the potent talent that Cass unleashed at will. Her voice, a strong vibrato rich alto when she wasn’t tickling upper and lower registers, was like a weapon.

They’d both seen people
cry, gasp and stare enthralled, straining for every word that fell from her red lips. She wove stories with music notes, delivered punch lines with guitar riffs, her long fingers flew over the strings as though she and the instrument were one being with one purpose, to make you feel. Good, elated, horny, sad, rapturous, her range was limitless, Priti believed. So did anyone who had the opportunity to watch her perform.

Priti’s phone buzzed against her back pocket, and Boyd shivered at the sensation. She grinned and pulled it free, walking out of ear shot to take the call.

“This Priti,” she said, and listened. “What? Who is this?” she listened some more, and Boyd, who’d been keeping one eye on her even as he continued to watch Cass on stage raised his eye brows and mouthed the word, what?

“It’s Lee,” she mouthed back,
silently thanking God this was Cass’ last song. “He’s been in an accident.”

“Sire! Sire!”
Rierdane appeared in Eyoen’s bathing chamber visibly shaken and out of breath from a mad sprint/shimmer across almost the entire length of the palace. “It’s time.”

“Gods,” Eyoen breathed,
surging to his feet, streams of warm water streaming from his long, muscular body. His host was at this moment dying. He wasn’t ready. He’d known it could happen at any time, had thought himself prepared, but he wasn’t. Something – could it be fear? – had his heart racing, but he stood bravely as his faithful servant came forward and quickly dried him.