Page 47 of Beautiful Noise
“You were deep in the thick of it. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“You wouldn’t have and besides, I was writing about you. Having the inspiration in live form would have only motivated me more.”
He winked and headed toward the kitchen. “You were writing about me?”
“Yeah, I was inspired after last night.”
“You mean this morning.” It was after midnight before I ended up in his bed, naked beneath him.
“I meant what I said, Ri, last night. The inspiration came from the conversation we had at dinner, not from me eating your pussy. Although that was very inspirational, I can’t imagine you wanting me to expose how inspired I was with my head between your legs to the world.”
“Absolutely not.”
He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”
I climbed off the sofa to join him in the kitchen where I found him with a fork in hand digging into the casserole.
“My mom sent you all her recipes I see.” He spoke through a mouthful before shoving another forkful of casserole between his lips. I could still feel those lips in the most intimate places.
“Give me that.” I snatched the fork before he could dive into the casserole again. “Go sit down and I’ll fix you a plate.”
He grinned and walked up on me. “I thought you like me savagely eating your shit, Ri?”
When his eyes lowered, my clit pulsed. “Would you go…” I tugged his shirt and while laughing, Ezren stole a kiss but left the kitchen. I piled enough food onto his plate to satisfy his appetite and only a third of that on mine because I couldn’t eat nearly as much. As soon as I stepped in front of the sofa, my stomach dropped.
He had my journal open and was smiling at the pages. “That’s you?”
“What?”
“Cyan Indigo Bleu, that’s your site.”
“No,” I lied, naturally it was the easiest thing to do, and his smile expanded.
He pointed to the page. “This is on the site and nowhere on there did I see anything bylined with a name other than Bleu.”
“Fine, it’s me, and you’re nosy. I would blame your mother but I know she taught you better.”
He chuckled, flipping through a few more pages, and because my hands were still filled with our plates, I couldn’t stop him. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me? The poems are dope, Ri. You’re talented.”
“It’s a hobby and I don’t like people knowing.”
“Why not?”
“It’s weird, I just don’t. Here…”
I shoved the plate in his direction and placed mine on the table near the end of the sofa, making an exchange for myjournal. I also lifted my iPad and phone, stacking them both next to my plate before I filled the spot next to him.
“I get you don’t want random people knowing about the Bleu thing, but I’m notpeople, Ri. If my girlfriend is a poetic lyricist, that’s an important detail I would like to know.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Damn, you reneging on our agreement already?”
I grinned. “Maybe I am since you don’t seem to respect privacy or boundaries.”
“Forget privacy and boundaries where I’m concerned. The lines are fucking blurred with us. Get used to it. What’s the deal with the site and the poems?”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”