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“What if someone comes in?”
“I rented the whole building. Nobody is coming in.” He strokes a finger up my center. A moan slips from my parted lips. “Now…play.” I slide my fingers along the smooth curves of the cello, feeling every little groove and dip again.
Closing my eyes tightly, I give it my all.
The instrument is an extension of my body, a part of me that sings with each stroke of the bow, and I play, launching into the sweet strains of Bach’s Suite No. 1 in G Major, all the while, I can feel him.
I can’t focus on the music. But I must, or he’ll stop.
His fingers slide between my legs, and I moan as he finds my clit, rubbing it in circles as I play. I’m on the edge. The music pours through me. It’s muscle memory. I’m no longer here—the song has taken on a life of its own; all that matters to me is Gideon’s touch.
He pushes two fingers inside me, and I gasp. He fucks me with them, pushing them in deep while he rubs my clit with his thumb.
I get lost in movements, and then, in turn, I get lost in the music.
I forget about my fears. I forget I’m playing in front of someone. And as the music hits the crescendo, I, too, fall over the edge. The music swells inside me, pouring out of me, throwing me into the throes of my orgasm.
Once my heart returns to a normal beat, I set down my bow and turn to face him, panting slightly from exertion. He watches me closely, a predator zeroing in on its prey. “You were incredible,” he growls, pulling me into his arms and crashing his lips onto mine. “Good girl.”
I will never tire of hearing those words.
32
GIDEON
She’s incredible.
Never have I heard anything so magnificent in my life.
The sound of Sasha coming at such a pivotal and powerful moment in her music almost brought me to my knees.
Now, I stand here, hard as a rock, as she tries to regulate her breathing, and instead of wanting to leave like I normally would, I want to bask in her glow forever.
When did I become this man? The kind that wishes to worship at a woman’s feet. A man so entranced that nothing else matters.
The second you saw her.
The moment your obsession took over your every waking thought.
If she has any misconceived notions that she’ll ever get away from me, she better think twice. She might have had a shot before I felt the way she quivered around my fingers…maybe. Now that I’ve had a taste? Nope.Never.
I’ve had her essence lingering on my lips and crave more.Needmore.I’ll never be done with her.
Still in my arms, Sasha quivers with the last of the aftereffects of her orgasm. Holding her tightly to me, I place my mouth on her pulse point. When the beat of her heart calms to a normal cadence, I slowly let her go.
For a second, Sasha sits perfectly still. Is she okay? Is she going to freak out on me?
Whatever the case, she better not regret it.
But then she turns to look over her shoulder, and I’m met with rosy, red cheeks and a sated, hazy gaze in her eyes.
What I don’t see is any remorse for what she just allowed me to do. No anger or resentment.
Which is good because I’ll be doing it again real soon. Not just because the sweet melody she makes while playing would be criminal not to hear again, but because she deserves to one day play at Juilliard, and if riding my hand is what gets her over her fear of playing, I’m a willing servant.
I’ll do anything to feel her again.
I don’t care if she uses me. I’m hers to use.
