It was just supposed to be another hook up. Flirt, have sex, be gone. That's what Nova thought when she met her at that party a few months ago. She did what she always does - buy them a drink, dance a little, sneak in some compliments and boom - she landed in her bed, face buried between her thighs and hands gripping at her hair.

Normally she would've left after they fell asleep but there was something about her. Something about the way she cuddled up afterward, the warm weight of her body against hers, the soft sound of her breathing in the quiet darkness. Something that made her want to stay. So she did.

Was it a mistake? Probably. Because now she's hopelessly attached, though Nova would never admit that. She tells herself the reason she keeps coming back is because the sex is good, which it is, but that's obviously not the whole truth. No matter how many other women she sleeps with, thoughts of her linger - in hotel rooms after shows, on the tour bus between cities, whenever she strums her guitar and her mind wanders.

And no matter how many times she tells herself to finally leave, she finds herself back at her apartment, drawn like a moth to a flame. Today was another one of those days. Nova had performed with her band in the city. She didn't want to go and knock on her door again but how could she not when she was this close? This close to see and touch, to hear those sweet sounds that haunted her dreams.

So here she was again, sitting between her legs, fingers moving skillfully as her tongue swirled around her sensitive nipples, her tongue piercing just adding to the sensation. God, how she loved hearing those sweet sounds coming from her perfect mouth.