Pia buries her hands in my hair, her fingers combing and scratching my scalp. It’s not urgent or pressured. It’s tender and caressing.
It’s only in that moment that I realise the first four letters in the word “caress” is another word: care.
That’s what it feels like now. It feels like Piacaresabout me. I had glimpses of it on our phone call and maybe even flashes of it earlier than that – in New York, in my limo, possibly even when we worked on ‘What I Want’ together – but they were fleeting and flimsy.
The way her long, strong fingers move in my hair now is more definite. It’s more affirming. It’s impossible to ignore.
When my tongue finally licks its way into her pussy, she releases a long, low moan, and her body shifts. Back arching, hips moving, legs widening, she makes space for me. And I take it.
This is still only my third time giving her head, and for the rush of nerves I spontaneously feel, it could be my first. But it’s not the kind of nerves or fear that paralyses me or has me shying away from speaking my truth or doing something. It’s the same kind of fear I experience when I’m standing on a stage, moments before a curtain lifts or a spotlight switches on. I want to sing more than I want to hide away.
And in this moment, I want to eat Pia more than I want to do anything.
I start slow, and Pia meets me where I’m at. Her hips roll into my mouth, and I match her rhythm. After a few minutes of this steady pace, it occurs to me that we’re moving, no,fucking, in a 2/4 time signature. The same time signature that ‘What I Want’ is written in. This has me smiling against her pussy as my tongue continues to lap at her clit. I sing the song in my head – to her, to Pia – as I continue to lick and lap and kiss. When I reach the chorus, I close my mouth around her and suck, soft and then hard. Soft and then hard.
Her fingers stay lost in my hair. Her moans get deeper, grittier. The song plays louder in my mind.
I wonder if we’ll ever sing it together one day. Not for the fans, but for us. I wonder if we’ll ever be able to perform it the way we want to.
“Oh, Cassie,” Pia groans, and the rock of her hips speeds up. I match the pace, flicking the tip of my tongue on the tip of her clit as fast as I can.
“Oh,fan!” she exclaims, and then more Swedish words tumble out.I will have to learn Swedish, I think to myself, like my future will be filled with more moments like this.And ASL. I will learn ASL, too.
She comes in a series of convulsions that jolt through her whole body. Her hips buck. Her fingernails dig into my skin. Her moans become grunts. Her sighs, little screams. My face is hot. My jaw is sore. Her arousal coats my chin. I’m a complete mess. And I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
So much so, I’m not going to stop.
Just as she starts to settle again, I put my mouth back on her pussy.
“Jesus, Cassie, no,” she gasps, her hands now trying to pull me off. I lift up only slightly.
“I want one more,” I tell her, and I closely inspect her face, looking for real resistance.
“But that … that was…” She doesn’t finish her sentence again. This is starting to become a habit.
“Please, Pia,” I beg.
“You are trying to kill me,” she says with a tenderness that doesn’t match her words. “You want me dead so that you can win all the awards and be way more famous than me.”
“Pia, you are already more famous than me, and you already win more awards than me,” I point out. “But no, I don’t want you dead. I want you…”
I just need a moment to find my words, to pick them carefully. But Pia jumps in, not with words but by pushing my head back down.
“Okay, one more,” she says. “Give me one more, but this time, with your fingers inside me.”
I’m surprised how easily she takes two and then three of my fingers. I’m surprised at how much I love the way she clamps around my knuckles and how hot and slick she is. I’m also surprised at how quickly she comes a second time, with her thighs clamped around my ears and my nose crushed against her pussy. I can barely hear anything, but I’m pretty sure she’s mumbling my name again and again and again as she trembles through her climax.
“Sorry,” she says when she finally releases her hold on me. “But fuck, that was so good.”
“No apologies,” I say, and I start to climb up the bed to lie next to her. “I was exactly where I wanted to be.”
“Cassie,” she says, and for a second, I think it’s because she’s still coming, still saying my name. But she repeats herself, and I hear a more serious tone. I panic for a second.Did I say too much? Did I do something wrong?
“Yeah?” I prop myself up on my elbow so I can see her.
“Thank you for coming all this way,” she says, and it’s there again, this new Pia that I noticed after she walked into the room.
Or maybe it’s the old Pia. TherealPia.