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She nodded and her heart pounded.
“Perfect nipples. Perfect breasts.”
“I-I thought Jon was the boob man.” She gasped. “Oh!”
Brian’s fingers tensed on her flesh for a moment, and then he relaxed. “It’s okay. Just don’t mention him again.”
Regret swept through her. She didn’t want to hurt Brian. “I’m sorry. This is your night.”
He lowered his head. “I hope, in the end, all the nights with you will be mine.” He clamped his firm lips around one nipple and tugged.
Forte. So good. Brian charged right in and seized what he wanted. Not gentle. Never gentle. Hard. Intense. Ferocious.
As he sucked, Eve was vaguely aware of him working the snap and zipper of her jeans. When the fabric slid down her hips, her thighs, below her knees, she kicked off her clogs and stepped out of her clothes. She stood, completely nude, a gorgeous man kissing her nipples, biting them, sending coils of raw energy to her throbbing pussy. Moisture coated her inner thighs.
As if he’d read her mind, he slid one hand across the slope of her breast, down her waist, over her hips, and slipped two fingers into her slick folds. He released her nipple. “Sweet God, you’re wet, Eve.” He pinched her labia together, massaged her clit. “I want to fuck you so bad right now.”
She understood his need. She shared it. But he’d asked her to dance, and dance she would. “That feels so good, Bri. D-Do you still want to play? For me to dance?”
“Mmm, I sure do. I want you to dance for
me. Only for me. Naked. Lots of flutters, baby.”
“But first you’ll play for me?”
He didn’t smile. Simply gripped her shoulders and gazed at her with fiery eyes. “I always play for you, Eve.” He said no more as he, still fully clothed, his jeans bulging at the crotch, took his seat on the black lacquered piano bench. His slender fingers stretched across the keys, and music drifted into the room. A lazy melody.
Eve sat next to him, the bench cool on her bare ass. Yet she was warm. So warm. The solid heat of Brian next to her consumed her. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. The music wafted around her, and she breathed deeply. His musky male scent shimmered into her.
“I love your music, Bri.”
“I love you,” he murmured. “Dance for me?”
She nodded against his hard muscle and then rose from the bench. He launched into a slow Arabic tune. So he wanted slow. She could do slow. The small area she had to work with would lend itself well to slow.
She closed her eyes, let the rhythm saturate her. Her hips glided into figure eights. When she was one with the music, she opened her eyes. Brian didn’t watch the keys. His smoldering gaze rested on Eve, and she slid into a full body undulation, her muscles responding to the notes. She swayed, swept up her long chestnut locks, and gyrated her hips in slow spirals. She released her hair and bowed forward, sweeping her body in an arc before she stood tall again and circled her chest. Her nipples poked forward, begging for attention, and without thinking she slid her hands around the rosy flesh of her breasts, cupped them, and plucked the two hard nubs.
“God, baby.” Brian’s playing never faltered as he watched, groaned.
Eve smiled to her audience of one. One of the only two who had ever mattered. She jiggled her legs to produce a hip shimmy and then, with a wink, she tensed her diaphragm and gave him a flutter.
The movement required a lot of power, a lot of energy, but Brian was worth it. She fluttered and fluttered, stopping and taking a breath as necessary, her body heating further. Need. Raw, aching need. As the muscles moved rapidly, she glided one hand over her belly to her triangle of mahogany curls and dipped a finger into her own juices.
“Damn, Eve.” The music stopped and Brian rose abruptly. He removed his shirt.
Oh, his chest was beautiful. Eve had seen it many times before, but right now, in this moment, with her body on fire from the dance and her mind swirling with memories of his kisses, that chest was a sculpture from heaven itself. Wisps of reddish-brown hair scattered across the muscles. His nipples, turgid and copper, begged for her touch. His stomach was sleek and ripped, and as he unsnapped and unzipped his jeans, she riveted her gaze to what was about to be revealed.
His cock didn’t disappoint. Massive and golden, it sprang from auburn curls. Brian kicked off his shoes and jeans and stood before her—fair and beautiful and clearly very turned on. He turned, fumbled in the pocket of his pants, and produced a condom. Within a few seconds he was sheathed.
“The piano, Eve.” His voice was throaty and demanding. “Get on the fucking piano.”
He didn’t wait for her to move. He lifted her in strong sinewy arms and set her on the keyboard. Discordant notes rang in the air as her bottom sank onto the cool ivory keys.
“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he said, spreading her legs and positioning himself between them. “On the piano. God, I’ve dreamed of this so many times. Of taking you like this. Right here.” He slammed his cock into her wet pussy.
The sigh that left her lips permeated the room. He filled a void, an aching void that had been empty far too long. His thrusts were vigorous. Unyielding. With each plunge, he touched more than the depths of her pussy. He probed the center of her heart, her soul.
“Ah, sweetheart. You’re so tight.” He drove into her deeper.
