She couldn’t let Ethan read her, not now, with crazy thoughts in her mind about spanking and slapping and whipping, and how it might feel to be tied up in a way she couldn’t escape. As their Beethoven concerto ended, she busied herself adjusting her bowstrings so none of the guys would notice her agitation. The party was winding down from its excitable peak. People were drinking less and talking less, and gathering informally near the groom and bride.
Jonathan noticed the change in mood and suggested a Mozart piece. Ethan insisted on Tchaikovsky’s 1st String Quartet instead, a dissension rare enough that Ruby and Steve exchanged surprised looks. Jonathan met Ethan’s gaze for a moment, then nodded. The four of them had played together five years, long enough to communicate via brief eye contact and subtle expressions rather than words.
Honestly, Ruby didn’t have words for her feelings at that moment, as the four of them began to play the lyrical Tchaikovsky piece, while the bride and groom gazed into one another’s eyes. The newlyweds had played with dozens of other people at the wild reception, with all their friends and guests, but now, this moment, they were exclusive to each other, expressing their deep, unshakable bond.
The groom’s unicorn outfit was gone, his tux put back on but only half fastened, so he looked disheveled and sexy, and ready to fuck. The bride wore a long veil and a white negligee, her curvy, tattooed body covered, but not really concealed. Her wedding gown lay in a heap by the cake table, forgotten, not important in the scope of their love for each other. The groom drew the veil around her, seductively brushing it against her skin.
Ruby flubbed a note as the bride arched her head back and offered her neck for her husband’s kiss. Her cheeks burned as the others played on, not acknowledging her mistake. The groom opened his lips against his bride’s skin, and his teeth skimmed across her neck and jaw. It was vampirishly beautiful. Stunningly erotic. Oh God.
She had to look away, or she’d stop playing all together. Or she’d play some crazy, screaming jumble of notes, noise and dissonance without sense. She was grateful now for the piece Ethan had suggested, and wondered if this was why he’d chosen Tchaikovsky rather than Mozart, so she’d have something reasonable to cling to as her emotions went batshit with jealousy, horniness, and a strange surge of bliss.
The bride and groom’s slow, sultry make out session continued as all the guests watched, as the music played on, delicate and light. When they finished Tchaikovsky’s first movement, Jonathan signaled them to go on to the second. Ruby bit her lip as she turned the page, trying not to miss any notes in the meantime, because she wanted her performance to be perfect, as perfect as the couple’s love.
What would it feel like, to be kissed that way by someone you’d hurt, who’d hurt you too in the name of pleasure? She thought it would probably feel spectacular. As the guests watched, as the quartet played, the couple whispered to each other and smiled, then the groom stood and swept his bride into his arms. Her veil trailed the ground as he carried her to the exit, acknowledging their friends’ cheers with a nod. She clung to his shoulders, her eyes locked on his as they left for a more private honeymoon suite.
It just so happened that the Tchaikovsky piece was reaching its finale during their exit. She could see the satisfaction on Jonathan’s face—he had a great sense for the theatrical—but it was Ethan who’d suggested the perfect accompaniment to the scene. An emotional wave crashed over Ruby, and her eyes filled with tears. Oh God, she couldn’t cry. The guys would know if she did, because she wouldn’t be able to wipe her cheeks while she was playing.
You idiot, she thought, getting emotional at the weirdest wedding reception ever. But it was also the purest, sexiest, and most eye opening. Definitely not stodgy like most of the other receptions they’d played. Fuck, she couldn’t shed tears. As the only woman in the Gold Quartet, she had to hold her own against the other three’s testosterone and male posturing. She had to be tough and strong, because they teased her when she acted too girly. She definitely couldn’t let them see her cry.
Ethan moved his leg a few inches in her direction, a way to ask if she was okay, and she nodded without looking at him, because his gracious brand of sympathy would only push her over the edge. Pull your shit together, her inner critic chided. While she was an emotional violinist, she preferred to spend her energy on musicianship, not tears.
When the final allegro drew to a close, Ruby’s eyes were clear again. The guests gave a light smattering of applause as they milled around the now-quiet space. With the bride and groom gone, they were finishing the last of their drinks, packing up their gear and, finally, putting their clothes back on. Ruby rested her bow on her music stand and looked at Ethan.