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That throb between us might be breathing, but I can’t breathe waiting for what comes next, still bound by my dress and his hands, incapable of touching him, of anything but what he so chooses. Suddenly, he shifts us and turns me, dragging my dress and bra down my shoulders, and he doesn’t stop there. My dress and panties pool at my feet, and his arm wraps my waist as he lifts me and kicks away the material. I’m now in nothing but my thigh highs and heels. And when he sets me down, I catch my weight with my hands, the shiny slick surface of the piano cool beneath my palms. He’s hot and hard behind me, the thick line of his cock pressed to my backside.
I’m back to the understanding that he is in control.
On some level, I know that’s why I’m holding onto this piano not him. It’s back to why his control arouses me and I force myself to be honest, to own my decisions. The truth is, I’ve spent my entire life clinging to my control. I need an escape that just lets me stop, just lets me enjoy a moment, a night. That need was hidden behind a locked door. Another truth: Kace opened that locked door and I can’t seem to shut it again.
His hands find my breasts, his lips my neck, and then they’re at my ear again. “I want you here,” he repeats. “I want says it all.”
“I want to touch you.”
“And you will. Just not yet.” His hands, those talented, gifted hands, begin traveling my body: my arms, my hips, the curves of my breasts. Then he is cupping one of my breasts and pinching my nipple, and not gently. I gasp with the bittersweet ache that clenches my sex. My head tilts backward, and he kisses my neck again, cupping my face and tilting my mouth to his mouth, kissing me, all soft and seductive until he nips my lip. I yelp and his tongue strokes away the pinch even as his fingers tug my nipple—both nipples, and not gently—the devil incarnate who offers pain that is somehow pleasure.
“Kace,” I pant out, and as if that breaking moment is what he’s waiting for, his hands are gone, planted on the piano next to mine.
Desperate to touch him, I start to turn, but he catches my hands with his. “Don’t move,” he orders softly.
Adrenaline surges through me with the command that is new to me. I’ve been ordered around by family, by my brother, but never by a man, never like this. I’d never allowed such a thing and yet my thighs are slick and my breasts heavy.
“Aria?” he presses as if he’s asked a question. “Don’t move. Understand?”
It is a question. He’s demanding and asking, and I barely understand this contradiction, but it is somehow perfect. It emboldens me. I’ve been sheltered and I resist crawling back into my hole. I’m not here to live in that hole. I crave this man and all he offers.
“Yes,” I say, but I feel my own demand as well, and it fires my tongue. “I heard you. Don’t move. Don’t touch. Later. Not too much later, Kace.”
He laughs, low, rough, sexy, the sound sliding through me and settling hard in my sex. I am even wetter now, the ache deeper, the certainty that touching him will answer my body’s call. But it is he who touches me. His fingers trail down my sides and over my hips before he cups my backside and then gives one side a smack. I yelp and arch into the touch, but the sting is forgotten when he steps to my side, one hand still holding my backside, the other resting on my belly, fingers low, caressing just above my sex.
He strokes my clit and I gasp as he begins to explore my body. “So damn wet.” He sinks two fingers inside me and presses his lips to my ear. “Remember that word, want? I’ve wanted you like this since we met.”
I can’t speak, not with his fingers inside me. I pant instead, my chin lowering with the sensations rippling through me. He squeezes my backside, his teeth scraping my neck as he asks, “Do you want my tongue to replace my fingers? Or would you rather have it on your nipple?”
I moan, I can’t help it. His touch, the way his fingers explore me, stretch me. His words. His voice. There is a swell in my sex, a promise of a long, ached-for orgasm by someone other than me—it has been so long. I fight it. I do, but he cups my face, claims my mouth, and his fingers—God, his fingers. I can’t hold back. My body jerks and I shatter. Kace reacts. He turns me into him, deepens the kiss, and strokes me all the way through the quake of my body.
