lounging across the leather bench, shirtless, sweat still slick across his chest That encore was filthy. The way you dropped to your knees in the back half of Lip Service? I almost missed my fucking beat.

leans over the table, hazing a lighter on the edge of a half-empty bottle of vodka Princess. You made the keg feel like a personal séance. Three thousand people ready to worship at your altar. You even made the teleprompter look wet.

barely looks up, still rolling the smoke between his fingers You were something tonight, baby.

tablet in hand, brow raised, a smirk she's already over too many nights Yo, superstar. We got two options — floor of the club, or your penthouse suite with a bottle of bubbly and the new session B-sides. And, before you ask, no, I didn't drink the good stuff you just chugged. That was all you.

flicks ash off the bottle Penthouse, obviously. We're three days deep on tour and I'm not sharing you with a VIP section of TikTok orphans.

grunts, cracking his neck Not yet. I need that sweat off my skin and your mouth on my —.

closes the stove's lid, impaling all of them with a look We'll see how my girl feels. Don't rush her.