50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2

Chapter Thirty

    Beyond the partially open blinds, the sun spilled its very last rays across Washington, D.C.

    Aubrey combed his fingers through her curly hair. "Have you made up your mind about whether or not you're going to sign the contract?"

    Destiny's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected him to bring that up. "I'm...still thinking about it," she said, mentally kicking herself in the ass for not having a better answer than that.

    "Is there a direction you're leaning towards?" he asked, kissing her shoulder and tightening his arms around her just slightly.

    She stared at the wall facing her. "I'm...leaning towards..."

    He pressed himself against her.

    She closed her eyes and moaned. "That's not fair," she muttered. "You're cheating."

    He laughed in her ear. "You're leaning towards?" he prompted, lowering the arm that was wrapped around her. He slid his hand down her stomach until it was nestled between her thighs.

    "Yes," she moaned out.

    He nipped at her shoulder with his teeth. "Good girl."

    "Leaning towards," she emphasized.

    He laughed again and buried his face in her neck. "Where is your tape recorder?"

    She yawned. "My purse. The floor."

    He pulled away from her and fumbled around the floor for her purse.

    She giggled and turned her head, arching a look over her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

    "Interview me," he said, handing her the tape recorder.

    She lifted her eyebrows. "Now?"

    He nodded. "Now. I'm inspired."

    She sat up in bed. The sheets bunched around her waist. "Okay." She repositioned herself so that she was facing him. "I am conducting an interview with Aubrey Drake Graham. The date is November 17th. The time is..." She paused and looked around his shoulder, to the clock on his night stand. "The time is 6:19pm."

    He placed his hands on top of the sheet, in his lap and smiled down at her.

    "This interview will be recorded, if it is all right with you, Mr. Graham," she said, and tilted the recorder towards him so he could speak into it.

    His smile widened. "I give my consent to record this interview," he said into the recorder, sounding amused.

    "Word travels fast, and word has it that you've spent a lot of time in Washington, D.C. lately," she said into the recorder. "Can I ask what has you spending so much time in D.C.?"

    "Certainly," he said, trying not to laugh. His voice turned a bit more serious as he said, "I have been in talks with some of our most respected politicians to spearhead a program that will help keep our arts and music programs in our schools."

    "That definitely sounds like an admirable project, Mr. Graham..."

    His hand was on her thigh again. Lightly touching the skin on her thigh with his fingertips, while he maintained eye contact with her. "Thank you. The program is very near and dear to me."

    She cleared her throat. "Can you specify which grades this program would benefit?" Her voice went shaky towards the end of the question.

    His fingers dipped inward, grazing her inner thighs. "This program would benefit elementary school students, junior high school students, and high school students," he responded, holding her gaze.

    She paused the recording. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

    He grinned, seductive and devilish all at once. "I'm being interviewed."

    "You know that's not what I mean."

    "Turn the recorder back on," he instructed.

    She stared at him for several minutes, trying to ignore the tiny shocks that his touch initiated. She took a deep breath and started recording again. "What inspired you to start this program?" she asked, and drew an arm across her mouth to stifle any moans resulting from his fingertips dancing up her upper thigh.

    "As most of the world knows by now, music is very important to me," he said softly. "Music is... my life. I don't know where I would be without it, and I know a lot of people who feel the same way. All of the people I know, myself included, we were all children once. Children who sang along to the songs our parents played on the radio, or danced to music videos, or banged out a song using pots and pans or whatever our little hands could find." His own hand found what it was looking for at this point and coaxed wetness out of her. "Without music, I could have easily fallen in with the wrong crowd. Made life difficult for myself. There are kids out there, who could be talented singers, or musicians, or painters. There are also kids out there who could have been talented singers, or musicians, or painters. I want to help save those could-have-beens."

    She switched off the recorder. "Nice," she said.

    "Don't turn the recorder off again," he warned her.

    She turned the recorder back on and stared at him, trying to read the look in his eyes. "You've now been in D.C. for several weeks, reportedly. Is there a date for when this program is scheduled to go into effect?" She turned the recorder in his direction while clenching her thighs around his arm.

    "Actually, I'm wondering the same thing," he responded, working his fingers inside of her. "The meetings I've been attending were supposed to set everything into motion, but the politicians who were working with me got scared. They felt the program would be too expensive. So they've been dragging their feet."

    She bit her bottom lip, trying to bring herself to speak, but spasms were making her body tremble. She fought to catch her breath and moved the recorder below her mouth. "Ahhh.." She looked at him with wide eyes.

    He didn't stop. If anything, he pushed his fingers faster and deeper. "Were those the only questions you had for me?" he asked her.

    She shook her head, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming.

    "If you have more questions, ask me," he encouraged, his voice calm.

    She tried to regulate her breathing before moving the recorder closer to her mouth. "I'm...I'm s-s-sorry to hear that," she stammered out, on the brink of ecstasy. "Umm...ah....so...what are your plans regarding the p-p-program?"

    "I'm glad you asked," he said. "Someone very dear to me gave me some of the best advice I've ever received. She said that I could start the program on my own. Start off small, in the towns that are nearest to my heart. So I will be launching these programs in Toronto, Canada, Memphis, Tennessee, and Houston, Texas. These are all cities that helped raise me, helped me to become the man I am today. Since the schematics of the program have changed, I will need to get back to you with the exact date the program will be launching, but at least this way I will have more control over important elements, such as the program start date."

    "It sounds like you are...very passionate...about the program," she said, her voice raising in pitch.

    He leaned in close to her. "This program is my baby," he said, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and sucking on it.

    She couldn't hold back any longer. She came with her thighs locked tightly around his hand.