by Amanda Faye
"That's not a good idea, baby girl."
It's a horrible, terrifying, deliciously bad idea. Her? In my house? I could lock the door, close the curtains, and lose myself in her forever.
"Please?" she asks, and there's so much hope in her voice. That Southern twang lilts off her tongue, and the tone of her begging worms its way into my ears. I can't stop myself, and lick a strip of her skin from her chin to her earlobe, pulling it gently between my teeth.
Her head falls gracefully backward, opening herself up to me, like an offering to Satan.
"Please?" she asks again, the word tight and achy between her lips.
"Natalie," I say, rough against her ear, "If I take you home with me, if I let this start, there's no guarantee I'm going to be able to stop again. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
I'm a bad man. I'm no good for you, and you should escape while you have the chance.
I could hurt you, in oh so many ways.
She cups my face in her palms, looking me in the eye.
"I want to burn."
She holds my hand as I tidy up my room. She holds my hand as we walk to my parking space. She holds my hand in the car. She's silent on the short drive to my condo, smiling a sweet little smile to herself.
Her eyes sparkle in the dim light of the parking garage as I pull her to a stop next to me.
"This is a bad idea," I whisper.
The look of open trust on her face steals the breath from my lungs, and my lips are against hers when she mumbles, "I'll not force myself upon you, Eli. If you want me to leave, I will."
Her breath is hot against my face, and I change course from her mouth, running my lips over her ear.
"I am going to ruin you."
Instead of running away in fright, she smiles beatifically at me.
"Looking forward to it, sir."
The walk to my top floor condo takes ages, yet happens in the blink of an eye.
It's not much, not compared to some. But it's spacious and open, and filled with top-to-bottom glass. There's a baby grand in the middle of the open living space, a couch, and a collection of instruments against a wall.
I slip my coat from my shoulders and hang it on the coat rack by the door. I flick on the light over the sink, hit the button to open the curtains and let the views of New York at night flood into my apartment. The surround sound in the condo is connected to the same panel, and I hit another button so instrumental music, robust and full, spills quietly into the apartment.
She shakes off her jacket, draping it across the back of the couch.
Her eyes go wide at the sight of the curtains parting, and I stand back and enjoy the pleasure on her face. She surprises me though and heads to the row of strings instead of the New York skyline views. She runs her fingers over the instruments, a look of reverence lighting her features. A guitar, a bass, three cellos—two traditional and an electric—and a double bass at the end.
"Will you play for me tonight?"
"Of course. If you want."
I finally realize I'd do anything she asks me to.
There's still time to stop this. I can put Natalie in a cab and make her realize—
Realize what?
I've come too far to stop now. It's either have her and burn with it. Or don’t and die from the knowledge that heaven was within my grasp, and I let it fall away.
I watch as she toes her shoes off and lines them up against the couch. Her shirt goes next, dropping to the floor. My gaze follows as she unsnaps her jeans, lowers the zipper, then shimmies them down her thighs.
The heat starts in my gut, simmering its way up until I'm positive fire flares behind my eyes.
The moonlight shimmers off her pale body, freckles twinkling in the night like stars.
Pure.
She looks so fucking pure, and I am the vilest man on the planet.
Her bra hits the floor with a flick of her wrist, and I gape as she gathers her courage and steps out of her panties, letting them add to the pile of her clothing.
My fingers are digging into the counter so hard I'm surprised the marble doesn't crack under strain.
She runs her hands over her body, cupping her breasts, fingers trailing her ribcage, palms open wide against her hips. I want to follow the trail with my tongue.
"Please," she begs again, and I feel my willpower crumble around me. She licks her lips, nervous tension radiating from her, and I can't imagine the courage this has taken. To bare herself, here, when I've done nothing but try to push her away?
I don't deserve a creature this divine.
I go to her, my steps twice the length of hers, and have her in my arms before my heart can burst from my chest.
One hand at the back of her neck, my fingers slide through the silky strands of her firecracker hair, while my other hand trails down the side of her body. Her skin is like satin, smooth and fragile under my rough hand.
It would be so easy to bruise her. I have to resist the urge to do so, to brand her with my mark. She's so tiny, so delicate under my touch. I tower over her, engulfing her with my frame, and the knowledge that I could bend her to my will is heady.
My hand finds her breast, and she arches into my touch, pushing and urging me with her sounds and body. The curve of her breast sits heavy in my hand, and I rub my thumb over her nipple, awash in power as it puckers and hardens under my direction.
She makes a sound of protest when I tear my lips from hers—but there's so much of her to taste. I won't be satisfied until I've had my mouth on every inch of her.
"I am going to consume you," I whisper against her throat.
"Please," she prays.
My new favorite word.
Her hands rise to my neck and shoulders, kneading the skin under her fingers. A gentle counterpoint to the desperation quickening my own motions
I pull her perfect pink nipple between my lips, rolling it with my tongue as she arches deeper into my mouth.
My hands trail down her back, and her ass curves into my palms as if I molded it myself. Lush and full. I work the supple flesh between my fingers. She's so small, I could wrap my arms around her twice.
And yet, she fits against me perfectly.
I slip my fingers inside her seam, and she's already so wet. Her body reacts as if lightning arcs through her, and she bows into my touch, knees trembling underneath her.
"I need—I need—"
But she doesn't say more than that. Her voice is high and tight. She's begging, pleading, but for what, I don't know.
Instead, her grip tightens in my hair, dragging my lips back to hers. I allow it, if only so that I can nose my way up her cheekbones, bringing my lips to the cusp of her ear.
"What do you need, baby girl? Tell me what you need."
She's pressed against me, my hand running the length of her spine while my fingers explore her folds. I spread her slick across my digits, then bring them to my mouth for a taste.
Exquisite.
"You, Eli. Just you."
Sweeter words were never spoken.
I gather her in my arms, lifting her from the ground. She weighs nothing. My cello has more heft than her. Natalie's legs wrap around my waist, so reminiscent of our first kiss that it tugs a small smile from my lips.
Until I feel her naked under my hands, and the smile melts from my face.
I deposit her on the piano, positioning her on the closed lid. She hisses as the cool wood comes in contact with her heated flesh and her fingers, still caressing my head, dig into my scalp as she arches against me.
A moan bleeds into my mouth. At first, high as a whine, it deepens as her chest expands, and the wood warms to her searing blood.
I pull myself from her mouth, finally licking the trail down her body I've been dreaming about for months. Using my hands, I pull her roughly to the edge of the piano, spreading her knees as I do so. Her arms slip to her sides to support her, then she lowers to her elbows, watching me down the line of her body.
He
r alabaster skin glows in the pale light streaming in from the windows, the contrast stark against the rich darkness of the piano.
I plunge my tongue into Natalie's core, desperate to taste her. The flavor of her fills my nose and coats my lips.
"I'm going to eat you from the inside out," I say, eyes flicked up to her to watch her reaction.
I'm ravenous, and the only way to sate my hunger is to feast on Natalie's flesh. My fingers dig into the supple meat of her thighs, spreading her wide and lifting her from the surface. She gasps at the motion, body dropping, and arching against the wood. She's beautiful and earthy, a scattering of golden curls covering her mound.
I blow on her entrance, and she flexes against my hold, searching out substance instead of air.
"Touch me," she pants. "Fuck me. Make love to me, Eli."
Is that what this is? It's been so long since I've made love to another human being.
My lips encircle her lips, parting them with my tongue. Natalie releases a groan I feel at the base of my dick, making it twitch and fatten to the point of pain.
I start off slow, with dainty cat-like licks across her mound. She's so reactive, twitching under my hands and mouth. I wonder if I could bring her to fruition from the gentle caresses alone?
I use my tongue to explore her, dipping inside and swirling around her hood. It's not enough, though, and soon my tongue searches out new treasures. I suck at her creases, spreading her slick with my chin. I lick over the mass and swell of her ass, savoring the sight of how she curves and opens in front of me.
When I lick a stripe from ass to clit, she arches so deep her back leaves the wood. Then she tries to fuck my face.
"Not yet, baby girl."
Her sounds take on a desperate quality.
Where my tongue leads, my fingers follow, hunting for her sweet spots. I press my finger into her cunt, and it's tight. So very tight. I'm almost afraid I'm hurting her until she moans out, "More," from the top of the piano.
When I join a second finger with the first, she bucks into my touch, and my eyes roll into my head at how very responsive she is. Every man’s fantasy is spread out on top of my piano, and she's begging for more, harder, faster.
Pulling her so her ass is dangling off the edge, I wrap my arms under her thighs and spread her from the top, pulling back her hood for closer examination. I run my nose up her seam, hoping to brand her scent into my memory, and then I get to work.
No longer soft and playful, I flick my tongue against her slit, using my hands to spread her as wide as I possibly can.
She's writhing on the piano top, her pleas gaining in strength.
My baser instincts take over.
I know she's close. She's arching, squirming, reaching for that last little bit that will send her over the edge. I pull my mouth away from her clit, looking up the line of her body.
"Look at me, Natalie," I demand, and her eyes drift open, as if through a dense fog. "I'm going to bite you," I tell her, and her eyes grow wide in shock. "I'm going to bite you because when I taste you again tomorrow, I want proof that I've been here before. That it wasn't all a dream.
"Give me your permission."
She nods her head emphatically, up and down, then side to side, as if she doesn't know which way is up.
"Not good enough, baby girl. I need to hear you say the words."
I blow on her sensitive flesh, and she strains against my hold.
"Please," she moans, and I lower my lips to her body. "God, Eli, please."
I latch onto her nub, that glorious bundle of nerves that turns mortal women into goddesses, and suck it into my mouth, flicking and sucking in rapid succession. Unwrapping my arms from her legs, I bring one to her thigh again, spreading her up and out, so her ass is on display.
Sound explodes from her, bouncing off the apartment's acoustics, and it's the sweetest music I've ever made. As spasms consume her body, I thrust my fingers into her core and latch my mouth onto the curve from pussy to thigh. Digging my teeth in until she cries out again, I suck her marrow into my mouth.
When she wears her panties tomorrow, the lace will rub against my teeth.
After I'm sure my mark will last, I swipe my tongue to seal my brand to her skin. Then I trail my tongue through her curls, tasting and savoring until she's boneless and spent beneath me.
It's been only one bite, one taste, and I'm already addicted. How I'm supposed to give this up when the time comes, I have no idea.
CHAPTER TEN
ELI
She's limp, spread across the piano lid like liquid encased in skin. Her knees are tucked up to her chest, and I can't tell if her shivers are from aftershocks or because her blood is cooling.
With an arm under her knees and an arm under her shoulders, I scoop her from the lid, carrying her bridal style into my bedroom. I try to ignore the symbolism.
With one knee on the edge, I yank on my bedspread then gently place her in the middle of the mattress. She looks exquisite, her hair splayed out around her, like a spill of copper into a glass of warm milk.
I stand there at the edge of my bed, staring at the creature that lies on top of it. If someone made me pick—her or my cello—at right this moment, I couldn't guarantee the cello would win.
Natalie stretches, toes pointing and arms over her head, before she settles herself against the pillows.
"Are you going to join me in here? Or are you just going to stand off to the side all night and watch?"
If only she knew how much I want to join her.
She's grinning ear to ear like she's in on the world's biggest secret. I can't deny the image of her pleasuring herself in the middle of my bed isn't a heady picture, and I smile in return.
She runs her fingers lightly over her torso, stopping every few moments to give her breasts a squeeze.
This woman's trying to kill me.
"I don't think that's a good idea, baby girl," I say, for the thousandth time tonight.
She tsks like I've failed a test.
"Eli," she pouts, and the sound goes straight to my dick.
"I don't have any condoms, Natalie," I say, and it causes me physical pain to admit it. "I haven't been with a woman for quite a while."
"Oh," she says, and that knuckle pops between her teeth. "I don't have any, either."
That is the end of that.
She rallies, though. Natalie is nothing if not goal orientated.
"It's been a long time for me too, Eli. But I know I'm clean. We have to get tested during our yearly physical. It's part of my school-funded insurance."
I close my eyes and send a little prayer up to heaven. Or to Satan, most likely, because he and I are close personal friends after tonight.
Don't say it, baby girl. Please don't say it.
"But unless you have to wear a condom, I don't need you to. I have my birth control in my bag. I can show you if you want."
The thought of her pregnant with my child is like a punch in the gut, and I feel it roiling in my belly. A desire I've never known before flares to life, famished and insatiable.
"Please come to bed, Eli."
She sounds so pleading and so fucking innocent. My hands are on the buttons of my shirt before I've made the conscious decision to do so.
When I'm finally stripped of my clothes, I walk to the bedside table, pulling out the lubricant I keep in the top drawer.
Not that I need it, you bastard. Natalie is young and ripe. I can see her wetness from here. I watch her watching me, as I pour a dollop into my palm and stroke it up and down my cock.
I crawl onto the bed, and she immediately parts her legs for me. But that's not what I have in mind for tonight. Don't get me wrong. I plan on having her writhing underneath me sooner rather than later. But the truth of the matter is I don't think I can trust myself tonight.
I gather her in my arms, settling her against me chest to chest. I lower her onto my thighs and plunge in to enjoy her mouth. My legs stretch out on the mattress, and I take
her knees and wrap them around me. Her clit, slick as a baby seal, is rubbing against my straining cock.
To have her this close to me, naked and wanting, seems like a sin. I drop my mouth to her chest, nibbling my way to her breasts.
"I've never done this before," she says, and it takes a minute for her words to worm their way into my brain. I freeze with her in my arms, searching out her face.
"Excuse me?" I growl, and uncontrollable giggles peal from her lips as what she's said dawns on her face.
"No, silly," she chuckles, reaching up to cup my face. "Yes, of course, I've had sex. I've just never done this before." And she lightly caresses my forehead with her fingers.
"What do you mean?" I ask, confused.
"I've never made love. With a man. Someone who cared about my pleasure as much as he did his."
"Oh, baby girl," I growl, desire washing over me anew. "The things I could show you."
"Well," she says, a teasing lilt to her voice. "You are an excellent teacher."
I let my hands trail down her body to lift her and bring her home to me, but she stops me with a hand on my chest.
"Wouldn't you rather have me lying down?" she asks me timidly.
"No," I reply, fervor in my voice. "I want you as close to me as I can get you. I want to crawl inside your body and never come out again."
A rose-red blush creeps up her already flushed skin.
"I just meant I've never had sex in this position. I don't want to disappoint you."
I kiss her, because in what world could she ever disappoint me?
"Natalie," I say, and look into her eyes. If she can be honest, I can be too. "The truth of the matter is, I don't trust myself with you underneath me. I don't want to hurt you accidentally. I wasn't lying when I said it'd been a very long time for me."
"Eli," she says, and the faith in her voice is overwhelming. "You would never hurt me."
Not on purpose.
With one hand on her hip and one hand on her ass, I lift her, aligning myself with her entrance. She wraps her legs tighter around my waist and allows me to control her slow descent down my body.
She feels exquisite. Breathtaking. It takes all my self-control not to pin her to me and pound myself inside her.
