Unwritten Lyrics Novels & Stories

The red lace clung to my curves—thin straps barely holding me in, the thong cutting a daring line along my hips. But I didn’t dress for them. I dressed for him. My gaze flicked to the list of usernames scrolling beside the stream. And there it was—Obsidian. No tip. No message. Just… there. Watching. Silent. Always silent. He never chatted. Never begged. Never demanded. He didn’t have to. The toy inside me—the Lush—remained still. For now. My viewers didn’t know when he’d appear. Neither did I. But when he did… I felt it before I saw it.

“Do you have anything written so far?” Lilly hesitated. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out the page of lyrics Zane had helped her with — without mentioning who had written the foundation of them. Ethan read it. “God,” he said. “This is trash.” Lilly’s face moved in a direction she didn’t intend. The lyrics weren’t trash. She had actually thought they were quite good — warm and honest and with a rhythm that felt natural rather than forced. But she said nothing because she wasn’t supposed to care whose they were.