“Damn, you’re good!” Ash marveled as I played. I smiled and almost stopped. I didn’t want him to think I was showing off. But this piano was too amazing, perfectly tuned, each key responding so perfectly, even the acoustics in the room made each note ring out clear and celebratory. I didn’t know how they’d designed that in what essentially was an underground bunker, but I guessed with the right amount of millions you could do anything.
“I love this piano!” I beamed at him.
“I love how you play!” He smiled right back, then joined me on the keys playing something I didn’t recognize, yet haunting and lovely. A melody that would stay with me, I could already tell.
“What is that?” I asked, my fingers instinctively finding notes down a few octaves to compliment and underscore his own.
“Something I’ve been messing around with.” He closed his eyes, building the melody, deepening it into something more mellow and gorgeous.
“For The Blacklist?” I asked. It didn’t seem like the type of music they usually played.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“I didn’t even know you played piano.” I’d seen a glimpse of a gorgeous piano in the living room of his house right in front of an amazing view of the Golden Gate Bridge, so I guessed I could have assumed. But a lot of people had pianos just for show, and he always played guitar with his band.
“I don’t on stage,” he agreed. “I like to be able to move around when I perform.”
He did put on quite a show. I had to admit, I felt a flutter low in my belly at the thought of getting to watch him again tonight, so close, right backstage. But it didn’t help matters to feel star struck about Ash. That wouldn’t help me preserve my businesslike demeanor.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” He stood up and went over to the corner of the room and rummaged behind a few things. When he returned, he had a bouquet of red roses. “I’m so sorry about what happened back at my place.” He handed them to me.
Oh no, this wasn’t good. They were gorgeous, about two dozen. They smelled divine. I loved roses.
“Thanks, Ash. I, um…” I didn’t know what to say about what had happened with Connor. I guessed this was my cue to say it was all OK, but really it wasn’t.
“He’s an ass,” Ash agreed with my unspoken words. “I’ve known him since we were both 13, and we’ve been through a lot so he’s like a brother to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an ass.”
I shrugged. “I guess we just live in different worlds. And I’m only visiting yours for a few weeks. So, it’s not like it matters.” I thought I did a pretty good job of playing it cool, sounding neutral and aloof.
“Ana, I want you to know, I’m really sorry.” He brought his hand to my shoulder, caressing a strand of my hair between his fingers. That small touch alone sent tingles down my spine. “I won’t let him treat you that way again.”
I nodded, swallowing. This close, I could smell his masculine scent, raw and potent and intoxicating. I rested the flowers down gently to the floor and turned back to the piano keys. Those I could touch.
“Play me that melody again?” I asked, looking down at the keyboard, not at him.
After a brief pause, he dropped my hair and returned his fingers to the keys. Better, but not much. I could still feel the heat of his thigh, acutely aware of the strength of him as we sat, starting to play together. I closed my eyes, focusing on the music, the notes we blended together. There, right there I could feel where he needed to make it go deeper, take it down a bit with a minor key, add some tension. I played it the way I heard it, in my head, a variation on his theme, and he picked right up on it, playing it along with me, then taking it off in his own new direction.
“That’s so much better,” he marveled as we played, looking at me like I was a genius. “How did you just do that?”
I smiled at him. He had to know how, he was a musician, too. Music was a language all its own and here we were speaking it together. I had to admit, it felt fun to play free like this, letting the feelings of the notes govern the music we made instead of reading off a sheet. All of my training had been so strictly classical. This type of creative play still felt vaguely naughty to me.
“What’s that smile on your face?” he asked, catching my chin with his thumb. “You look like you’re up to something.”
Blushing, I guessed I’d shown my feelings on my face. Figured. “I’m used to playing classical music,” I confessed. “This feels much more…”
“Free?” He dipped his mouth down as he spoke, kissing me gently at the side of my neck, just underneath my ear. My breath hitched at the feel of his lips, so soft and yet so masculine. “Like you’re letting go?” His tongue swept up and found my ear, licking along the edge, catching my sensitive lobe between his teeth to lick and suck. My hands pressed into the piano keys. I couldn’t make myself break away. It felt so good, but I shouldn’t touch him. That would be the end of me.
“Like you’re letting yourself feel instead of think too much?” His voice whispered, husky and seductive as his hands traveled down my shoulders, down to my waist and slowly made their way along my legs. Traveling the length of my jeans, he stroked my thighs, parting my legs. The heat built within me almost instantly, my body responding, wanting, instantly aflame for him.
“Ash,” I murmured, tilting my head toward him and meeting his lips with mine. His kisses felt like nothing I’d ever experienced. I could drown in them and never have a moment’s doubt, like fire and rain all together, consuming and delicious and never enough. I kept kissing, drinking him in, our tongues tangling, stroking, meeting, teasing, my hands intertwined in his hair, his now at my waistband.
“Ana, I need…” He brought his finger right up to my sex, pressing against the seam of my jeans, giving me a taste of what he could do. I hissed, half-closing my eyes, my clit already so swollen, my sex slippery with need. He’d already showed me how good he could make me feel with his finger on me, up inside of me. I knew he could have me coming in seconds, flat.
He unbuttoned the top of my jeans, unzipped my fly. “Let me make you feel good, Ana.” He kissed my throat, licking me and gently easing me back onto the padded piano bench. I rested on my elbows, drunk on his kisses, his touch. He kneeled at the edge of the bench, bringing his hands to the waistband of my jeans and pulling them down my hips. Bringing his fingers directly to my soaked panties, he pressed the silky fabric against my sex.
“Ah!” I cried out, sinking back onto my elbows, tipping my head back, my chin up as sensation engulfed me.
“Let me taste you, Ana,” he murmured to me, easing my panties down my hips as he kept stroking, circling, first through the fabric then directly against my needy pussy. “So wet for me, baby,” he whispered as he saw me, “so perfect.”
I couldn’t form even the beginning of a thought as he brought his mouth to my sex, tasting me for the first time with a long, slow lick. He groaned, deep in his chest and wrapped his large hands around my ass, gathering me closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.
“So fucking sweet.” He brought his head down again and began feasting on me like a starving man, licking and sucking and eating me like he’d never tasted anything he craved more. He growled as he sucked my clit, making me buck with pleasure against him.
“Yeah, you like that?” He sucked me again, right where I was most sensitive, and I screamed out, bringing a hand down to clasp the leg of the piano stool. I felt like I was going crazy, splitting apart with desire as he began to tongue-fuck me, his thick, strong tongue plunging into my wet hole, flicking up to my clit, then deep inside of me again.
“Ash!” I screamed out, not caring if anyone heard, not wondering if anyone might walk in, just wanting more, more of his tongue, his mouth, his teeth as he teased my swollen bud, making me pant and gasp.
“What do you want, Ana?” He teased me, his tongue now out of me, licking light and sweet along my edges.
I groaned, so close, my legs quivering in h
is grasp. He held me firm and wide, his fingers pressing into my butt cheeks, his thumbs spreading the inside of my thighs wide.
“Please,” I pleaded. I needed to come, needed it so badly. He’d brought me so close. I could feel the shudders building in my core, the pulsing pressure deep inside of me ready to break up and wash over all of my being.
“Please what?” he asked, tongue up to flick my clit, giving it a spasm of pleasure, but then pulling away. “You need to tell me what you want, Ana. I want to hear you say it.”
“Please make me come, Ash! Please.”
“That’s a good girl.” He rewarded me with his full mouth all over my sex, a long, strong lick down my center and up inside of me.
“Ash!” I screamed, so close, feeling it build up inside of me. I clutched the leg of the bench with one hand, but the other I fisted in his thick, black hair, pushing his face into my pussy. “I’m, I’m—”
“Come for me!” he growled into my pussy, then sucked my clit hard and full into his wicked lips.