AG

The sun had fully risen when I emerged from the cocoon of sound in my home studio. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the hallway, signaling that my day was about to begin. The click-clack of heels grew louder, and I knew without looking that Nova was up and moving through the penthouse. Her presence made even the quietest moments feel alive.

When I stepped into the living area, she stood by the windows, the early morning light highlighting her chocolate skin. She was dressed in a sweater dress that hugged all her curves, her legs showcased by the thigh-high boots that stopped just above the hem of her dress.

She slipped on a cognac leather Tom Ford crop jacket with a matching ball cap, her signature style that screamed 'badass' without uttering a word. Her face was fresh, with just a hint of gloss on her full lips, her hair a mess of puffy curls under the cap.

Her outfit was a throwback to the 90s streetwear that had been making a comeback. A designer laptop bag slung over her shoulder added a touch of practicality to the ensemble. "Grand rising King," she purred.

"I love you," she said, turning to face me, her voice filled with warmth. She had heard the whispers of my music through the night, the vibrations of our love's symphony reverberating through the walls.

It was a sweet, unexpected confession that filled my chest with warmth. I walked over to her, leaning down to kiss her softly, not wanting to smudge the perfect line of her lip gloss. "It's the truth," I murmured against her mouth. "And that ride you gave me? That was inspiration."

She smiled coyly and playfully slapped my chest. "Oh, you liked that, huh?" she asked with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I did," I replied, pulling her in for a hug. She melted into me, her curves fitting perfectly against my chest. The smell of her hair, a mix of coconut and vanilla, filled my nose, and I knew that I never wanted to let her go.

But reality had a way of crashing back into our world, like a record scratch on a vinyl. My phone buzzed, and there was a notification from the studio. Work was calling, and we both knew we had to answer. We broke apart, and she handed me a steaming cup of coffee. "Let's get to it," she said with a nod, sipping her own cup.

Our day began with a whirlwind of recording sessions. The studio was ablaze with creativity, the air thick with the scent of fresh beats and ambition. Artists flowed in and out, each eager to capture a piece of Artis Greer's magic. I watched from the control room, my heart swelling with pride as she worked the board with a fierce and alluring confidence.

Every time our eyes met, it was like a silent conversation, our thoughts and desires laid bare. We had crossed a line, but there was no going back. We were in this together, heart and soul.

As the day progressed, my thoughts kept drifting back to the single that dropped earlier. Krossroads used the beat Nova created for him. The man's audacity to shout her out and throw shade at the same time had my blood boiling. But I knew the buzz was good for the studio and us. It was a small price to pay for the recognition she deserved.

As my work day was coming to a close. I wrapped up my last artist from the booth; Nova looked up at me, her eyes narrowed. "What's the deal with Krossroads?" she asked, her voice low and measured. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. "He used your beat," I said, handing her my phone to play the track. "And he named it 'Super Nova'."

Her cheeks flushed, whether from anger or pleasure, I couldn't tell. "Wow," she murmured, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"It's just his way," I said, shrugging it off. "He's always been an asshole. The important thing is that people are talking about your work."

"I know," she said, her voice tight. "But it still feels like he's trying to come at you by naming the song after me." "He shout you out as AG's Magician on the Breakfast Club," I said, smirking, remembering the radio show's banter. "He's messy," I added, reassuringly touching her shoulder. "He knows you're mine. "Her eyes flashed with a mix of anger and satisfaction. "Good," she said.

With that, I kissed her, the tension in the room dissipating like fog under the sun's warm embrace. At first, it was gentle, our lips moving together in a sweet dance of affection. But as the kiss deepened, my hands found their way to her neck, gripping gently as I bit down, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my teeth. She moaned, her body melting into mine as I claimed her in a way that was both possessive and tender.

My dick got hard, tenting my sweatpants, eager to feel her warmth again. She felt it, her eyes darkening with desire as she reached down to stroke me through the material. "Someone's happy to see me," she murmured, her voice teasing.

I chuckled, pulling her closer. "Always," I said before my mouth found hers again. This time, there was no holding back. Our tongues tangled in a passionate dance as our bodies aligned, my hands exploring the curves of her waist, her breasts, her ass. Her moans grew louder, "Shh," I hushed. We're still at work, baby," I chuckled.

But the heat between us was too intense to ignore. We reluctantly pulled apart; I knew we had to return to the grind.

Nova

I left 7 and headed to the lounge, noting that all eyes were on me. Krossroads did too much, naming that song after me. I found the interview on YouTube and watched the interview.

"Yo, Krossroads, you got a special lady?" the radio host asked, his voice filled with mischief.

Krossroads leaned back in his chair, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Nah, man, but I almost fell in love with a magician," he replied, his gaze flicking to the camera, a knowing glint in his eye. The studio erupted in laughter, but my heart was racing. The metaphorical smoke and mirrors he was playing with were clear as day. "A magician?" the co-host echoed, clearly confused. "What you mean by that?"

He leaned in closer to the microphone, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "You know, someone who can make beats appear out of thin air," he continued, still staring into the camera. "Someone who's got the kind of fire that can light up a whole damn studio, the brightest light"

The other hosts chuckled, clearly enjoying the playful banter. But beneath the surface, I could feel the undercurrent of competition, the unspoken challenge in Krossroads' words. He was a slick player, always looking for an angle, and he had found one in me.

"Super Nova, huh?" the co-host said, leaning in. "So, that's where the title came from? The brightest light in the sky?"

Krossroads nodded, his grin growing wider. "Exactly. A once-in-a-lifetime event, something that leave you changed forever." He winked. Was he talking about the beat or the woman who made it? It was a blatant play on words, a nod to our explosive nights together and to the fiery passion that had ignited between us in the studio.

The room grew quiet as the host put on the track, my heart thumping in sync with the bass line that I had crafted. The beat washed over me, a reminder of the power that pulsed through my veins, the same power that had made Artis' eyes go dark with lust just hours before.

The lyrics began, "She was like a supernova, a rare and fleeting sight, A cosmic wonder that left an indelible mark on my being tonight." The track grew in intensity, the words painting a picture of a woman who could both create and destroy, a force to be reckoned with. It was a bold statement, one that had me smiling into my coffee.

"Damn," the host exclaimed when the song ended. "That's a banger." "Tell me about it," Krossroads said, his smile smug. "That's the kind of magic that happens when you work with the right people." His eyes found the camera again, and I knew he was looking straight at me, even though he was miles away.

The conversation continued, but my mind was racing. I felt like I was on display, a trophy for all to see, and it made me both thrilled and uneasy. I knew Krossroads was just playing games, but how he talked about me made it seem like he was claiming something that wasn't his. I was Artis' magician, not his.

As the interview wrapped up, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what I had created. The beat was fire, and it was all mine. The recognition was intoxicating but also brought a new set of challenges. Everyone at the studio knew about the song now, and the whispers had started. They knew who Super Nova was.

Artis stormed into the lounge, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. I could see the tension coiled in his shoulders and his jaw clenched. He had clearly heard the interview, and he was not happy. His aura was darker than a thundercloud, and I knew I had to diffuse the situation before it escalated.

"Let's go," I said, firmly standing up and taking his hand. "We need to talk."

He followed me out of the lounge, his steps heavy with annoyance. We walked in silence down the hall to the recording booth, the door closing with a heavy thud behind us. The soundproof walls muffled the outside world, leaving us in our own little bubble of tension.

"Cory about to piss me all the way off," he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "He's playing games."

"It's just a song, Artis," I said calmly, trying to ease the situation. "It's a good look for the studio baby."

"Don't 'just a song' me," he snapped. That's my woman he's talking about." You just said the operative word, baby. 'Your woman,' I said, smiling. I laced my arms around his neck. "Kiss me," I whispered.

Artis' eyes searched mine, the storm of emotion in them momentarily giving way to confusion. He took a deep breath, his grip on my arms tightening. "You're right," he murmured. He leaned down, his tender and soft lips brushing against mine. " More," I demanded. He chuckled, his face softening.

He wrapped his arms around me, his lips pressing firmly against mine. His tongue slipped into my mouth, the taste of weed and spearmint mingling with the sweetness of his kiss. Our bodies pressed closer, the heat between us growing, my breasts crushing against his chest.

I could feel him hardening against me; his desire was evident. "Nova," he groaned, pulling back slightly. "We can't do this here," he said softly. "Ok, so later then," I said. "I just wanted you to relax, my love." "I leaned in. Tell me what you want, Artis, and I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want to fix your mood." I said with a smirk.

He studied me momentarily, his eyes searching my face before speaking. "I want you to promise me something," he said, his voice serious. "What?" I asked. "Promise me that you won't let anyone come between us," he said calmly.

I nodded, my voice firm. "I promise," I said.

The tension in the room eased slightly, and he kissed me again, this time with a passion that made my knees wobble. When we finally pulled apart, he stepped back, his eyes still holding mine. "Good," he said, his voice gruff. "Because if anyone tries to, I'll burn the whole shit down."

I couldn't help but smile at the fierceness of his declaration. "You won't have to do that, love," I whispered.