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I keep playing, even when Leandra shifts away. Even when she slides off the bench and comes to stand behind me. My brother used to do this to me when I played. Generally, to annoy me. Leandra is not my brother. Noooo, she definitely is not.
I’m hyper aware of her behind me, even before her hands land lightly on my shoulders. Even before she bends and I can feel the whisper of her lips tracing along my neck without ever touching my skin. Even before her lips come to land on the shell of my ear with a soft sigh, and her tongue tastes my earlobe with a tiny, benign flick.
My hands come to a jarring stop, the notes going haywire as my fingers crush down a bunch of keys all at once. Leandra chuckles wickedly in her throat. She’s right pleased with herself at having thrown me off my game so completely and I can’t say I mind it one bit.
“Would it be wrong of me to say that every single time I’ve looked at the piano today, I’ve imagined you- um- well- lifting me on top of it and- uh- doing naughty things to me?”
A shiver of sheer erotic joy sweeps through me and lands right in my groin. I’m instantly so hard that my dick is jammed up in my jeans and my balls don’t appreciate the now too small space.
I’m up and off the bench, whirling so that the thing goes careering over. I’m in a desperate hurry to get my hands on Leandra’s waist, to lift her up, easily, until she’s sitting on the edge of the piano. I secure her with my hands, bracketing her so she can’t fall. I box in her in, and she spreads her legs, teasing me as that shimmery gold dress rides up her creamy legs. She sighs and leans back slightly, putting her elbows behind her. Her eyes are open and she’s looking up at me, a coy smile on her face. She lazily spreads her legs just a fraction more, giving me a glimpse of the black lace she has on underneath. I step between them, parting them further. Her hands pull up the hem of her dress and she cocks a brow at me.
“Well?”
“Holy wrecked cake that never got tasted except by the dog and I’m not sure if that counts, I’m not sure what to say. What words could ever do you justice?”
“Flattery,” she scoffs.
“No,” I correct huskily. “The truth.”
“Here’s my truth. I’ve been thinking about this ever since that night. Also the truth- if you don’t eat my pussy right now, I might actually combust. But, if you don’t want to do that on top of a fifteen thousand dollar piano, I’m down for the couch, or the stairs, up against the wall, the bed, the kitchen island- pretty much any surface in the house, actually.”
Oh my flaming burritos. If this is what it means to be cursed, I’m totally farging down.
Down for this. Bending down. Down for the count. All of the above.
Leandra parts her legs and runs her hand from her knee up her thigh, caressing her soft as silk skin with a fingertip. Said fingertip catches in the hem of her dress and she pulls it up, exposing more black lace. My mouth goes completely dry and it’s a battle in my pants, my nuts and my dick sword fighting with each other.
Wordlessly, I reach out and trace the same path her hand just took. Then, suddenly, my brain starts working again and there is a word.
“Perfect,” I breathe. “Absolutely perfect.”
“No,” she laughs. “But hank you.”
“I’ve dreamt about you.”
She gasps. “In a dreamy, nice, longing sort of way, or in the astoundingly creepy kind of way?”
“The nice sort of way. It’s what made me finally decide to find who owned that earring and return it. I had a bit of time to think about it, remember.”
I don’t know why it’s easy for my brain to make words, but maybe it’s easier to do that than acknowledge the tremendous need I feel whenever Leandra is close. It’s more than physical. Already she’s an ache in my chest that I can’t just rub out the same way I can rub other things out. Okay, so that hasn’t worked either.
When I bend and my lips brush over Leandra’s knee, she shivers against my touch. Her hand lands on the crown of my bent head so gently, her fingers caressing the strands. A shiver rips through my skin too, and I’m sure that if my head was raised, she’d see the blush staining my cheeks.
“I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop it.” I kiss my way up her thigh, little peppery touches, as soft as those eyelash kisses people give to each other. Her skin is like the fabric that holds a tale together- otherworldly. “That first night, I was under your spell.”
