by Lily White
“You throw yourself into the most dangerous situations because you have absolutely no idea how many ways a man could tear you apart.”
Now he was just pissing me off. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it fucking is. Just the fact that you’re looking at me now like I’m some kind of a loss tells me you are too naive to understand what I almost did to you. What I still want to do to you regardless of the consequences. But it’s not love I feel, Amelia. Not even a passing crush.”
The words stung, the truth of them staring be blatantly in the face. “Are you saying all you care about is sex?”
His expression softened, the anger bleeding away to be replaced with sympathy and regret. “A more experienced woman would have known that. I didn’t even bother to close the door.”
Unsure what that had to do with anything, I rolled back my shoulders, my chin tipping higher even though the last thing I was feeling in that moment was pride.
His bag fell heavy onto the desk, his eyes lifting to mine again. “You deserve better than me for your first time. Someone who actually cares for you and doesn’t just want to fuck you until you’re begging for it to stop.”
Eyes rounding at the admission, I hugged my body tighter. Did I care that sex was all he wanted? I wasn’t sure.
“You need someone who will be gentle, and I can promise you, Amelia, that man is not me. Do you want pain for your first time? Because that’s all I have to offer you.”
The body reacts in strange ways, I’ve come to learn. At the mention of pain, my thighs clenched together, air shuddering through my chest. “I’m okay with that.”
Lennon’s jaw ticked, his hands curling into fists over his bag. “You think you’re okay with that.”
“I liked the spanking.”
Heat rolled behind his angry blue eyes, storm clouds surging in with the promise of violent, unrelenting rain.
Lips stretching at the corners, Lennon flashed me a feral grin. Why was he so angry about this? It wasn’t like I’d lied to him.
“You did like that, didn’t you?”
Nodding, I shuffled my feet over the floor, my muscles tensing when he rounded the desk and marched toward me, his long legs eating the distance as his hands worked to pull the suspenders from his pants.
Reaching me, he didn’t give me a chance to run, to cry out, to lift my hands in a defensive move before he gripped a hand over one of my wrists, tied one end of the suspenders over it, and gripped the other to do the same. Bending me backwards over the front of the piano, he used the third end to tie me in place, my spine protesting the awkward position, my chest arched forward and my legs struggling to remain balanced.
“Don’t move,” he growled against my ear, not that I could with the way he’d bound me to the music stand of the piano.
Yanking my shirt up to expose my bra, he reached behind me to unclasp it with one hand, the elastic popping loose as he lifted the cups from my breasts, his teeth locking down on one of my nipples so hard that a cry of pain burst from my mouth.
“Ow!”
But then...then...his teeth released me to be replaced by his lips, his tongue laving over the pain as he sucked it into his mouth, his left hand palming my other breast, molding it to his palm.
It didn’t matter that my back muscles were screaming for relief, didn’t matter that my legs had gone weak and my mind was about to shatter, the feel of his mouth on such an intimate part of me was all that I wanted in that moment.
His hand released me as his mouth moved to the other breast, teeth then tongue, sucking then biting, back and forth until his hands dropped at my sides and from the strings behind me rose the most beautiful music I’d ever heard.
He was playing while working my breasts with his mouth, not even bothering to look at the keys, his skilled hands driving a melody that was hard and then soft, fast and then so full of longing my body responded in kind.
How in the hell was he able to do that?
Soon, it was just his right hand racing over the keys, his left yanking at the button of my pants open, slipping down over my panties to...oh my god.
My back screamed as my body arched more, my legs like gelatin, held in place by the position in which I was bound, his thumb rolling over my clit as his fingers traced down over the soaked cotton.
And still, above my head, music like I’d never heard before. A dark melody bursting through me as his hand played me as expertly as the keys. Lennon’s mouth continued moving from breast to breast, the nipples sore from the constant sensation, pleasure being forced through me without him giving a damn what he was doing to me.
My body responded in ways I’d never experienced before. Warmth bloomed through my core, every muscle tense and shaking as my insides clenched and relaxed, over and over again until I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t process that he was driving me to a precipice of such intense pleasure, my heart would feel like it could rip from my chest and my mind would become mush in my head.
Still, the pleasure exploded through me, a bomb I hadn’t expected, a moan crawling up my throat to escape my lips. My hands pulled at the suspenders binding me in place, my legs shook so much that I thought I would collapse if not for the bindings.
I came, my eyes clenching shut as my insides rippled in need of more, my legs losing strength, the music Lennon played coming to a slow and soft end as I was left quivering in place.
The entire time, he’d watched me with fascination. Not that I could meet his gaze. I just somehow could feel the way he studied every reaction in my body.
After I was done, Lennon stepped away and said nothing for what felt like hours.
Fuck! My back hurt so bad as tears rolled from the corners of my eyes down my cheeks, my body desperate to stand up or sit down or shatter apart entirely.
“I won’t fuck you here. Not like that. Not when you don’t understand how much I love to see the tears dripping from your face.”
He didn’t so much as slip a finger inside and he made me come. How in the hell would I survive letting him toy with me in other ways?
“I could leave you here, just like that. The janitors would find you. The students pouring in the next day. How long do you think you could stay like that before your body is writhing in pain?”
“You wouldn’t,” I breathed out.
“I might. I’m just that type of man. Is this still something you want?”
No. He wouldn’t. Not a man who kept screaming at me to protect myself. Lennon was trying to scare me. I wasn’t stupid enough to let him.
“Yes.”
“Fuck, you’re asking for it.” The words hissed over his lips before he moved toward me and untied the suspenders, one arm wrapping around my back to help me up.
Fire burned the muscles down my spine, my mouth opening in a silent cry of pain, my legs almost giving out beneath me when he lifted me up to cradle me against his chest.
It was like I weighed nothing. Lennon carried me across the room, sat me down in the chair behind his desk and caged me in with his hands on the armrests.
“One crime. One complaint. One act of disobedience and this ends. Do you understand me?”
I nodded, my voice trapped in my throat.
“And don’t for a second think that because this is happening, you’ll be the student I select to compete for the scholarship. If that’s why you’re doing this, you might as well stop right now. To win this, you will work you ass off. Practice until your fingers feel like they’ll fall off. Listen to every damn thing I say. Cut open a vein and fucking bleed on those keys if that’s what it takes to impress me. Do you understand that as well?”
Another nod, my throat fighting to swallow.
Leaning forward, his lips met mine with such a tender kiss, it stole my breath. Speaking against my mouth, he said, “You’re going to be the death of me, Amelia.”
Lennon shoved away from the chair and finished packing his bag. “Fix your clothes and let’s get going. If we
’re here much longer the cleaning staff will wonder what the fuck we’re doing.”
He was angry. At me. At himself. At the situation. For what reason, I didn’t know, but his normally fluid movements were stunted, his voice clipped, his jaw tight.
Shouldn’t he be happy? Excited? Hell, turned on? I was, but to look at him you would think someone just ran over his puppy. Twice. With big loud screeching tires and maniacal laughter pouring out the driver’s side window.
“Let’s go.”
Without bothering to look at me, he stood at the door waiting for me to grab my things, the soft squish of my sneakers against the linoleum a counterpoint to the heavy beat of his boots. I could barely keep up, a wave of warm wet heat assaulting me as soon we were outside, the cicadas buzzing, frogs singing despite the lack of a body of water nearby. It was the usual Florida chorus that began when the sun set and the day transitioned to night.
Walking me to my car, Lennon didn’t say a word. I turned to him, dared to meet his eyes. “Are the rules still in place?”
A clipped nod, his eyes averted.
“Okay,” I whispered, still not understanding why he was so mad.
“Drive safely,” he said, stepping back to watch me climb into my car.
With the door open, I asked, “Who was the composer?”
A storm-blue gaze met mine. “What?”
“The music you played. When we were- When we were together. Who wrote it?”
Silence beat steady, the metronome ticking, time refusing to stop for even this split second. I would always remain a prisoner to his beat. His pace. His rhythm. I just didn’t know what that would mean for me in the long run.
“I did.”
Surprise flooded me. Admiration. Jealousy that music like that could flow so easily out of him. It spoke to me, the song, and not because of what he was doing. I heard the story. Saw the images. Felt everything the music had been written to convey.
“It was beautiful.”
It was raw pain, that melody.
Lennon nodded his head, took another step back. “Have a good night, Amelia.”
Dismissed, I shut my door and started the car. Slowly, I backed out of the space, my eyes meeting Lennon’s one more time before I turned the car to leave. I watched him in my rear view mirror, noting that he watched me leave until I was pulling out onto the road.
Only then did he turn to walk to his car.
Lennon was lost to shadows as I focused on the street ahead of me, my mind racing with a million conflicting thoughts.
Lennon
A virgin.
Of all the things she could tell me, of all the damn truths she could reveal to me in that moment, it had to be one that stopped me in my fucking tracks.
A woman being timid and shy is one thing. Innocence another. But to be untouched? It was an entirely different arena than anything I wanted in my life.
She deserved someone who would love her the first time, someone who wouldn’t hurt if the relationship didn’t work out and he had to walk away. Someone who wasn’t planning to leave before anything could even get started.
And to think it was only the tip of the iceberg with Amelia. To think that her brother could be the one person I’ve hated for my entire adult life.
My bag slammed down on the desk in the classroom, the students not expected to pour in for another hour, a full day and a half having passed since the last time I saw Amelia. Still, it hadn’t been enough time to make a decision as to what I planned to do with her.
Dropping my weight in the seat behind my desk, I kicked up my feet to the surface and leaned back, my hands scrubbing down my face as frustration poured out of me.
I’d returned home that night after touching her with an erection that wouldn’t fucking stop, had jerked off with barely any relief, had gone to my piano to work out the music that was surging inside me with so much agony and chaos, it wouldn’t subside.
For hours, I’d played despite having to get up early the next morning, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigar in the other.
It wasn’t often that I smoked the damn things, but I needed the distraction, needed the focus on anything besides a woman who was driving me fucking mad.
As the night wore on, the music changed, a soft melody revealing itself with such innocent sound. My fingers were light over the keys, note after note running higher until my left hand beat on bass chords in answer, chasing it…chasing her. Threatening her serenity, warning her that, despite the smile I could evoke, pain and heartache were just around the corner.
Eventually even that frustrated me to no end and I managed a few hours of sleep before returning to class the next day. Over and over and fucking over again, I’d listened to students fumble through Scarlatti, my mind only paying them half the attention it should.
Still, I was happy for the break, happy that Amelia wouldn’t return again until the following day. I’d thought, maybe, it would be enough time for me to come to my senses and call this thing done between us.
But who the fuck was I kidding? I wanted her just as much then as I do now.
With a few more evaluations to perform, I had a few hours, at least, to make a decision.
Already, she’d proven herself the best in my class. Kicking her out wasn’t going to happen, but what did that mean for us?
I wasn’t sure I could show her tenderness, wasn’t positive I could give a damn she’d never had sex before.
Would her first time be bent over a desk with the sound of floor cleaners humming in the distance as the cleaning crew began their nightly routine?
As far as romance went, that was ... well ... shitty.
Eventually, Tony Salisburg waltzed through the door, fresh faced, eager to perform and I had to abandon my thoughts of Amelia to lead him to the piano. Another fumbling-fingered butchery of the Sonata for me to enjoy.
While I should have been critiquing him, carefully noting every error, every area where he could improve, I was standing behind him with my thoughts locked to one particular student I couldn’t quite forget.
My eyes scanned over the Steinway, a vision of her bent backwards and bound coming to mind, the heavy weight of her breasts exposed, her nipples tight and swollen from what my mouth had done to them.
Fuck. She was beautiful.
The music stopped, Tony turning to look at me with anticipation in his expression. I’d only half listened.
“That was fairly good,” I finally said, forcing myself to stop seeing Amelia helpless where she’d been bound, to stop feeling her body tremble and wet heat rush over my fingers when she’d come.
“Run through the last few measures for me again. Hit the notes harder in the areas marked fortissimo. I’m sure Scarlatti meant it when he wrote it.”
The music started and all I could imagine was Amelia kneeling at my feet, her defiant gaze peeking up at me before I demanded she suck my cock.
I didn’t know what it was about her smart mouth that made me want to punish it. I would, though, before all was said and done. Shutting her up with my dick was a temptation impossible to resist.
After Tony, another student. Another. And another.
Eventually the day rolled forward long enough for me to have gone over my notes and selected the ten students who would remain, Amelia’s name circled twice because I knew she would be my biggest challenge.
Would she follow the rules? Or was she smart enough to have decided moving forward with me wasn’t in her best interests?
Fifteen minutes passed before I knew that answer, my cock coming to life when Amelia walked through the door wearing a skirt that flowed down from her hips, the hem dancing around her knees.
Careful to keep my eyes from locking on her to reveal all the dirty things I wanted to do to that body, I flipped a pen between my fingers and kept my gaze down on the roster of students on my lap.
In my peripheral vision, I watched her take a hesitant peek at me as she passed, her hair falling down her back just begging to
be fisted by my hands.
Once all twenty-five bright-eyed hopefuls had taken their seats with a chorus of scraping chair legs and the heavy thump of backpacks hitting the floor, I tapped my pen against the roster and said, “Good afternoon.”
They answered, fifteen of them not yet knowing it would be the last time they stepped foot in this classroom.
Pulling my feet from the desk, I stood from my seat with roster in hand, rounded the desk and sat against the front edge. My eyes scanned over the students, briefly meeting Amelia’s teal stare before moving on again.
I’d expected some form of reaction from her, some hint in her expression that would give away what we had done together. But she played the role of average student wonderfully. Keeping the secret wouldn’t be difficult.
“Rather than wasting everybody’s time, I should just get this over with. I’m going to call the names of the ten students who will continue forward. This, in no way, is a rejection of the talent of the fifteen who are leaving. My decisions are becoming more difficult as we move on and every one of you should be proud of the accomplishments you’ve made. If you are leaving today, I ask that you not let being cut discourage you from music. You have what it takes, but weren’t yet ready for this particular competition. That being said...”
Running down the list, I announced the ten who would stay, quieting when those whose names hadn’t been called gathered their things and shuffled out of the door.
Once they were gone, I dropped the roster on the desk and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Congratulations, all of you.”
Beaming smiles. Bright eyes. Excitement and an undercurrent of smugness ran through them. All, except Amelia.
Her eyes were soft, thoughts distracted, legs held together so primly at the knees that I imagined pushing them open so I could taste her every reaction.
I wouldn’t fuck her yet. Not today. Not here. But soon. And in a place where I had her all to myself without the threat of being disturbed.
“Next week, we’ll begin going over the music selected to be performed for the competition. There are still seven weeks of the program left and in that time I will work with all of you as a group and individually. Ten are here today and I have to cut another five by the end of next week.”
