Chapter 12
Aria
“Talk to me, Aria. Why do you hide? Why doesn’t your father know about your playing?” He unbuttons his shirt and distracts me by revealing a sculptured chest laced with a thin coat of dark hair. My virgin eyes take in every detail, cataloging his beauty for future reference. He’s an artist. Artists don’t look like this.
They don’t need to. They’re artists.
“My aunt paid for my lessons. She raised me, not my father.” I stammer and lick my lips. My heart pounds like a jackhammer on concrete, breaking down all objections, fear and anxiety over falling in love with a man his age.
“After my mother died, he had to go away for a while…to a hospital. My mother’s family took custody of me. It was too painful to hear me play. He won’t touch his own cello, but I know he misses it. It was his life. It was my mother’s life.” I watch him tug the crisp fabric off his arms and quietly gasp when he throws his shirt on the floor. My eyes widen as I take in the swirls of ink etched in his skin and the exquisite scent that drifts into my face.
No one should smell so divine.
He kneels in front of me and reaches for the snap on my jean shorts. As he unbuttons, unzips and proceeds to tug them down, he looks me in the eyes with the earnest gaze of a loving admirer and whispers, “Sweetheart, what do you want? Do you want to keep hiding?”
I shake my head and toss my shorts from my ankles. The close proximity of his naked chest makes me bolder.
“Of course, not. But look at all this.” I wave my hand at the walls, but the inference is clear. I live on one of the most expensive streets in one of the most expensive cities in the country. Daddy makes it all possible. I can’t go against his wishes. Not yet. Not until I have my own money.” I sigh and clasp my hands, but he closes his hands around them and squeezes.
“Where’s your cello?” His eyes sparkle and a big smile creeps over his lips. Such an odd man.
I point to the room across the hall and he marches away. Seconds later, he returns with my cello in one hand and my bow in the other.
“Angel, you belong in Juilliard. They take my recommendations very seriously. If you like, you’ll start this fall. What about the Manhattan School? Berklee in Boston? The Paris Conservatory or the Royal College in London? Where do you want to go? I’ll take you. No one would dare turn you down.” He drags a small chair to the center of the room, points at the seat and waits for me to take his cue.
“Play for me. You don’t need your father’s money. If you want to play, you’ll play. Nothing so beautiful should ever be hidden.”
My trembling hand covers my heart as I pad toward the chair, wiping a stream of tears along the way. “You think I play beautifully?”
He smiles and kisses a tear off my cheek. “It’s from the heavens.”
My heart skips a beat.
“What did you... say?” My voice squeaks, remembering those familiar words.
He knits his brow in confusion. “My love... it was from the heavens.”
Chapter 13
Marek
I’m not sure what I said, but instead of playing, she leans her cello against the wall, turns around and without a word, climbs me like a tree. Our lips crash, our arms wind, our breaths mingle, and my hands knead every curve, aching for this glorious woman to fill the emptiness inside. And she does. With every hot kiss, my heart grows fuller, my soul stills and my cock thickens to obscene proportions.
“It’s just you and me. I know this is fast, but it doesn’t matter. This will never end. No one will ever come between us. I’ll do everything right for you. For us.” I groan against her mouth as my teeth graze her full lips.
I’ll do everything right by this angel. We already have our song and we’ll still have our first date tomorrow. The order doesn’t matter. Then I’ll take her to San Francisco to meet my mother and Poland to meet my father. I want to ask for her hand and then marry her as soon as she’ll have me. And I want to make her mine. I want her to know she’s mine in every fucking way imaginable.
Like a hungry beast that’s just been set free, I yank her t-shirt over her head, pull off her bra and toss her on her pretty pink bed. While I stand by and step out of my pants, she curls into her blanket and reaches for the hem of her panties.
“I’ll get those. Let me get those, sweetheart. I’ve pictured this moment a thousand times.” I bend down and grab the lacy elastic.
“A thousand times? We met two days ago.” Her brow furrows as I slide her black cotton panties down her shapely legs and nearly gasp then shudder at my first sight of Aria’s very bare and very wet, virgin pussy.
I smile, shake my head in disbelief and crawl on to the bed. “I stand by my statement. I’ve thought about you non-stop for forty-eight hours and this vision ranked high.”
My fingers walk up her thighs and my heart flutters when I inhale the familiar scent from those ruined panties. The aroma quickens my pulse and conjures a low growl from the pit of my stomach. Hunger churns. Sanity flees. I don’t want to go slow, but she needs my patience and I need her like I need air.
With painfully gentle moves, I lick a long line up her thigh and leave a slow trail of kisses that end when I’m inches away from the sight of her slick pussy.
For one second, she freezes then sighs and melts into her sheets. My mouth waters. The scent is too heavy and the sight too perfect. Before she has a chance to adjust to my transition, I spread her thighs and sink my mouth into her dripping wet pussy.
“Maestro!” Her sweet voice sings as her back arches and her legs curl around my head. I hate her calling me that, but here, in this situation, with her pussy in my mouth, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
I spread her thighs wider and my tongue lines her slit, inching slower with each pass as I stop to make lazy circles on her clit. She’s more receptive, more eager than I anticipated. When I stroke her clit, lashing it violently, her arms fall behind her head and she grasps the headboard for purchase. With each swipe, her cries grow louder. Every moan inspires a sonata. Every whimper and glazed look of lust inspires a symphony. My mind swirls with inspiration evoked from my perfect muse. My one and only love.
“Do you like that, angel?” I suckle her clit and shove two fingers in her slick passage. She feels so warm and slippery, my fingers find that perfect spot that catches her by surprise.
“Yes...” She whimpers and chews her lip. “No one’s ever done that before. No one’s ever touched me there.” She rolls her hips, moans and coaxes me to continue. I couldn’t say no if my life depended on it. When her quivering thighs tense, I drive my tongue deep and feast with wild abandon, savoring her taste, licking her swollen lips and suckling her clit until she shudders in a fit of ecstasy that makes her hips bounce off the mattress.
“Maestro! Maestro, I’m coming!” Her tiny limbs writhe while I draw out her climax with my fingers and stare in amazement at the girl who swept me off my feet like a swooning damsel in distress. She makes me feel soft and powerful all at once. The more I taste, the more I smell her skin and hear her voice, the more I’m certain I will never be able to live without her again. I’ll do whatever she wants. I’ll be whatever she needs. Today, tonight and every night.
Chapter 14
Aria
A man should make me scream. He made me scream. Isabel was right. She would have heard us through those thin walls. I feel flushed, weak but more aroused than I’ve ever been. When Marek shifts his weight to slide off his boxers, I feel the loss of his embrace. The absence of his touch. This is only the beginning and I already feel addicted to his hands and mouth on my body.
This feels unreal, but every minute that passes in his company, my future sets its course. This is inescapable. Perfectly inescapable.
While my heart races with love, I catch my breath and turn just in time to see naked Marek climb back on the bed with an erection that stuns, challenges and frightens me all at once.
My instincts kick in. In a sudden move
that proves too slow, I roll across the bed to escape. Marek doesn’t miss a beat. He grabs my ankle and drags me back for my imminent destruction.
“Maybe, we should wait.” I plead for a reprieve, but the look in his eyes tell me we’re past bargaining.
“My love, you can take it. We’re soul mates. You’re the only woman meant to take it.” He leans in and kneels between my thighs.
“You mean there have been others? Maybe, we should talk about this.” I narrow my eyes in fake offense, but he doesn’t take the bait.
“Forgive me. I'm forty-two. If I knew you existed, I would have waited. But your level of perfection is unimaginable. How could I have known?” He grins and rubs his thick cock down my slit, dipping it into my wetness and nudging my clit with the head. My body startles with the sensation as my eyes rake over his chiseled torso. My senses awaken. My fear subsides. And yet, I make another weak attempt to save face.
“Can we go slow?” I bite my bottom lip and watch him nod once. His seductive blue eyes bore into mine and he holds his mammoth body inches above, teasing me with what’s to come. Heat from his body radiates into mine and the air crackles like steel wool kindling fire.
With a stern expression, he lifts my legs over his forearms and slides his cock until it sinks in, inch by torturous inch, stretching me, breaking me, wrecking me with brutal force coupled with a gentle touch.
“Breathe, Aria. I won’t go faster, baby. You can take it. I love you. I came alive when I found you.” He presses further, breaking my barrier as I dig my nails into his biceps and howl obscenities. But he thrusts another inch deeper.
“Marek! I can’t. You’re too much!” I whine with grief. I want more but it’s so much and it keeps coming and coming.
“Look at me, baby. You know how I feel about you. You can take it. We need to get through this. You’re going to be riding this cock for the rest of your life, little girl. Learn to love it now.”
His words warm my heart. That big cock is mine. I own Maestro Misiak’s freakishly large penis and he loves me. I can take it.
I can take him good.
With a deep breath and a kiss for luck, I roll my hips and work him in. Marek’s kiss heightens my arousal. His big hand cupping my breasts makes the ache grow stronger. The friction distracts the pain. As pleasure grows, I welcome him in little by little, accepting every thrust until I feel full with his magnificent invasion. The more I feel, the wetter I become and the easier Marek glides further in. My mind spins. My heart thunders. I want him all. Love and desire transform into savage lust and within minutes I learn to love the feel of this mighty oak splitting me in two.
“Oh, Maestro! I’m taking it. I’m...taking... it!” I arch my back and meet each plunge, whimpering, wailing, crying and howling as this beautiful man breaks me and claims me as his. His lips seize mine. His hands ruthlessly trap both breasts and knead my flesh. He thrusts harder, deeper and my body keeps begging for more.
“Aria, my angel. I love you.” He clasps my hands and stretches them over our heads. Each move slows until it becomes deep, calculated thrusts that send me over the edge and into oblivion.
“Maestro!” My body tenses and shudders as waves of erotic bliss sink into my limbs and in an instant, we shatter with our lips locked in a fiery kiss.
I’m his. He’s mine. Forever.
Chapter 15
Marek
I wake up in heaven. The warm strings of a cello, my favorite sound in the world, soothe me into consciousness and as I lift my head, I cast my eyes on the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. Aria playing in nothing but a white flimsy see-through nightie, lost in her world as her cello sings a tune I’ve never heard. I stare mesmerized, brimming with admiration and enslaved by love.
Each note is perfect. The combination, harmony and dark sounds she enlists to interpret her song shakes my senses awake. My fingers itch to play. I need to join the melody in my mind with hers. While her eyes are closed, I slink out of bed and creep into the room across the hall. I die a little inside knowing she plays violin as well, but I love her too much to feel envious.
Our babies will be Mozarts!
Without hesitation, I place the violin on my collar bone and while I walk back into her bedroom, begin to play. Our strings unite. The harmony is sublime. She enriches every note I play and challenges me to new heights. In her presence, I play better than I’ve ever played. The closer I get to the room, the stronger the vibrations grow, entwining our melody into a symphony of yearning, desire and unfathomable joy. These notes are us. This is the story of the years we spent apart and the years we have before us. As we climb the crescendo and barrel towards are finale, every nerve in my body zings with titillation. My palms sweat. My stomach clenches with every beat of my racing heart. I play with such passion I fear I’ll break a string. When we reach the dizzying crescendo, my knees weaken, my soul soars and Aria’s bow crashes against her strings.
“Marek! Oh, my Lord!” She gasps.
Confused, I lower the violin and stare glassy-eyed and dazed. “What? Why did you stop? It was exquisite.”
“Marek, you’re naked! How in the world am I supposed to concentrate?” She frowns and wrinkles her adorable nose.
“A professional could pull it off.” I wink, store her violin and help her stand.
She clutches her heart and ducks her head, shifting her eyes to my cock. “But Marek, you’re so hard. Are all maestros going to make me audition like this?”
I freeze. The thought makes me tremble with anger. I sweep her into my arms and carry her to bed. “How dare you put that vision in my mind. You audition for no one, my love. You’re the star.”
Chapter 16
Aria
“Why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?” Isabel squints and surveys me close.
“I have a secret.” I smile and shove a whole tortilla chip in my mouth. We meet once a month at our favorite Mexican restaurant on the Lower East Side. I’ve avoided her for four weeks. That’s outrageous in Isabel’s world. She nagged, guilted me, manipulated and when I ran out of excuses, I agreed to keep our date.
“Secret? What kind of secret? Is it dirty?” Her ears perk up.
“I auditioned for the Philharmonic and I have a solo in the debut of Marek Misiak’s new overture, July 1.” My heart sings saying the words out loud.
She beams. Her eyes shoot wide open, her mouth slacks and her tiny feet patter on the floor. “Ay mijita! That’s incredible!” She jumps out of her chair and gives me a hug.
“Thank you. I’m excited. I’ve got free tickets for you, so don’t go buying any. I’ve got your sassy ass sitting front and center so you can see your gorgeous niece play her heart out.” I smile and clench my fists in a joyful shudder.
“I promise if I start crying, I’ll turn my face. I don’t want to distract you.” She hugs me again.
“No worries. I’ve been getting instruction of methods of concentration.” I sigh and my mind helplessly drifts to Marek. He’s waiting at home. His home. Our home. Daddy was not responsive to Juilliard. He cut the conversation off before it began.
“Does your father know? Is he coming too?” She dips a chip and stares thoughtfully.
I shake my head. “He doesn’t know. There’s more news. I’m rolling it out slow to keep you from going into shock.”
She scoots her chair closer and slaps my forearm. “Stop keeping secrets from me. I know I’m not your mother, but I love you like you’re my own. What happened? What did he do? What did he say? I’ll kill him if he hurt your feelings!”
I chuckle. “Okay. Number one, I was accepted into Juilliard. I start in August.”
“Aria!” She shrieks.
I hold my palm up. “There’s so much more. Save it until the end.”
“Number two, Daddy cut me off. Well, more like I did it to him. When I said I quit Columbia he threatened, and I called his bluff. I’m not homeless. I’m living with my older gentleman. The one I told you about. He helped me
get my late audition and he helped me get this solo with the Philharmonic.”
Her jaw falls to the floor. “Aria! What is his name? You promised you’d tell me his name if it got serious and you’ve been hiding like a squirrel hoarding a stash of nuts.” She creases her brow and brings her hands to her waist.
“What? What squirrel?” I love messing with her.
“You know what I mean. Who Is it?” She exclaims as she stomps her foot.
I draw a slow breath, hold it and finally eek out the words. “Marek Misiak. The composer. The conductor. The maestro. And the man I’m going to marry.” I pull my necklace from behind my blouse, unfasten the latch, and pull out the obnoxious diamond I’ve been hiding from Isabel’s eyes.
When I slip it on my finger, she pretends to faint.
I swat her arm. “Cut that out! Are you so disappointed in me? I said he was forty-two.”
She giggles. “Marek Misiak! You naughty girl. That man is some of the sweetest eye candy I’ve ever seen. Did you know he was concertmaster, when your mother played for the Philharmonic?”
I nod. “He told me. He remembers her well.”
“Your mother had a teensy crush on him.” She grins and takes a sip of tea.
I clutch my ring. “Mom?”
“Oh sweetheart, she adored your father, but we’re Mexican. You’re Daddy’s Mexican. Marek is Eastern European. He was a little taller and broader, always serious, always brooding. That shit melts panties far and wide. My sister was a faithful, loving wife, but she wasn’t a saint. I’m sure she had a few nasty thoughts about her daughter’s future husband.” She laughs out loud.
Maestro Page 4
