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His adds a second finger and I draw his other thumb into my mouth. This won’t do, I think, digging my nails into his arm. I feel close to peeling apart, like every cell inside me might riot in a million different directions. Then his fingers start to swirl again, and I shatter there on the piano bench, rising to meet his fingers as I cry out.
I’m barely done, barely able to catch my breath when he spins me around on the bench and tugs my shorts and panties down my legs. The silk rips and he doesn’t go easy. He yanks the material off and tosses it behind him before positioning himself on his knees between my thighs.
His tongue is on me immediately, lapping me up, so that I lose balance and lean back, catching myself on the piano and eliciting a loud, shrill sound from the instrument.
I curse under my breath, but Nicholas doesn’t stop for even a moment. He presses my thighs apart until the outsides of my knees skim the piano bench, and then he devours me hungrily. I have no choice but to be on the receiving end of pleasure so purely wonderful it’s a hair’s breadth away from being painful. My hips rock up and my toes curl on impulse.
His fingers join his tongue and I grip his hair, not caring one bit if I’m hurting him, maybe wanting to hurt him just a little.
He finds a sweet spot, swirling his tongue around and around as my thighs try to squeeze tight. He doesn’t let me close my legs. He keeps me parted and exposed, utterly useless.
I come again so quickly I can’t catch hold of the feeling before it completely consumes me. It’s earth-shattering and somehow better than the first, and I’m telling him that, telling him everything—how wonderful he is, how much I want him—and then I’m on top of him, pushing him back onto my blanket that covers the carpet below us so I can straddle his hips and yank ineffectively on his clothes. He’s still wearing his tuxedo and there are so many layers between us. I’m nearly naked, but he’s still buttoned-up.
“Maren,” he protests as I try to go for his bow tie. “Don’t bother. Fuck.”
He reaches down for his pants, for the zipper there, and then I feel his length slick and smooth underneath me, so damn hard as I reach down to touch it. I pump him in my hand, though there’s no need; he’s rock hard. Truthfully, I just like the way he feels, like imagining how he’ll feel once he’s inside me. There’s a condom in his wallet, he swears, and when he finds it, I send up a silent thank you to anyone listening.
I give him a moment to tear it open and roll it on and then I’m there again, straddling him so I can grind against his length, wetting him so that when I lift my hips and hold him at the right angle, he starts to slide into me beautifully. I pause for a moment, letting him stretch me, before I continue to take more of him inside me. It’s been a while since I had sex, and my body isn’t used to accommodating someone his size. I bite my lip against the twinge of pain, but then Nicholas’ hand is between my thighs, rubbing soft circles where I need him, and just like that, my muscles relax and he presses all the way in.
For a moment, I sit on top of him, unmoving, like a queen appreciating everything I’ve fought hard to conquer: a tuxedo-clad Nicholas splayed out underneath me, bending to my will. I smile deviously and he grips my hips punishingly, lifting his hips so that I rock on top of him and lose my balance. I have to drop my hands to his chest to keep from falling over, my one fleeting moment of control gone in the blink of an eye. I might be the one on top, but Nicholas calls the shots, holding my hips steady as he starts pumping in and out of me, slowly at first, drawing out and then moving back in at a rhythm that will drive us both mad. As soon as the complaint hits my lips, he picks up the pace, thrusting harder and faster until I relax completely and let him have his way.
I fall against his chest eventually, pressing kisses along his jaw, letting him feel the weight of me on top of him as his hands move from my waist to the backs of my thighs. He pumps deeper into me and I hear his breath picking up, and it feeds my own pleasure, the idea of him losing himself so completely inside of me, the idea of him rushing toward the same wonderful end I’ve already felt twice tonight. I don’t deserve to feel it a third time, but Nicholas seems to be holding off until I give it to him, and that knowledge is all it takes to get me there again. He takes my earlobe between his teeth and I clench around him as my body shakes and he growls in my ear, coming apart underneath me as a shudder racks his chest. Half-bitten curses ring out of him and I’m spent completely by the time he finally slows and then stops.
