by Skye Jordan
He followed her to the bench and sat, then pulled her sideways onto his lap. “My father was the one who got Jeremy started, but his arthritis keeps him from playing now. It sat unused for years after Jeremy enlisted. I guess they saw my house as the perfect opportunity to move it through the family.” He laughed at the irony of it, something so expensive and elegant in his ramshackle foreclosure. “Maybe they thought I’d try my hand at it. Or maybe my mom knew how much I loved hearing Jeremy play. I don’t know. It’s ridiculously out of place, but it holds a lot of sentimental value.”
He slid a hand over the length of her smooth thigh beneath the hem of her skirt, over her knee, and back up, sneaking beneath the fabric for more skin. Ava hummed with pleasure and dropped her lips to his neck. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“Same.” He stroked her thigh again. Warm, soft, supple. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
“Nope.”
He didn’t think so, but he felt better about letting his mind turn to sex now that he’d asked. One more slow sweep of his hand up her thigh, and he let his fingers drift toward the heat at the apex, brushing her panties. She hummed. “Do you want more of this?”
She sighed. “Yep.”
He pulled his hand from her leg, gripped her waist, and lifted her off his lap, turning her to face him. “Slide those little panties off.”
Her smile was both sexy and shy, but she held his gaze as she lifted the edges of her skirt to slide her thumbs into the hips of her panties and ease them down her legs, keeping her body strategically covered with the fall of her skirt. She let the silk drop to her feet, then bent forward, resting her hands on his thighs, and kissed him. Gently. Letting her tongue trail over his lips. The smallest gesture from this woman could turn Isaac inside out.
He reached behind her and closed the piano’s key cover, then lifted her off her feet and settled her ass on the wood. Ava laughed and planted her hands on the cover to hold herself steady on the narrow ledge.
Isaac used one foot to pull the stool close, sat, and looked up at her. “Open your legs.”
Ava’s blue eyes sparked. She pulled the corner of her lip between her teeth and slid one thigh to the side, then the other.
Isaac gripped her ankles and pulled her feet to the piano bench on either side of him. He let one hand trail up her calf, along her inner thigh and beneath her skirt. “I may not play the piano,” he murmured, “but I bet I can make Ava sing.”
A nervous laugh slipped through her lips just before he stroked the backs of his fingers across her hot, soft pussy. Ava murmured a sound in her throat.
“That’s a start.” He watched every micro expression cross her face as he brushed his fingers over her sex again and again, just whispers of friction, teasing her until her breath quickened. Until she started to wriggle toward his touch.
“This is the sweetest little secret, this juicy little pussy.” He pushed one finger inside her, an excruciatingly slow movement. Then he pulsed deeper, rubbing the swell that made her head fall back on a moan. “I could finger fuck you for hours, just watching your reactions, teasing you into a hundred orgasms with nothing but my fingers and tongue.”
Ava groaned, an impatient sound.
Isaac used his free hand to push her skirt to her hips, opening a deliciously erotic view of his masculine hand invading and manipulating her tight, nearly bare sex. He moaned and shifted on the bench, trying to relieve his own need. “Look at this pretty pussy,” he murmured. “Watch me touch you, Ava.”
She opened her eyes and let her head list foreword. Isaac added a second finger and fucked her in slow, deep strokes while she moaned.
“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his own breath coming quicker. “You like my fingers inside you.”
His fingers glistened from her excitement, making him hungry. Her scent filled his head, making him high. He dragged her wetness over her clit and pushed back inside her, earning him a tortured moan.
“I’m going to watch myself finger fuck you until you break,” he told her, pushing into her slick folds. Watching his big, rough, stained fingers disappear into her pink, plump, slick pussy.
Ava’s hips shifted and rocked on the edge of the piano ledge. “Isaac…”
He ignored her plea. He was having way too much fun. He was fascinated by the sight of her. “Don’t rush me, baby. I’ve found a new addiction. And I’m obsessed.”
She whimpered.
“I’m going to discover exactly what makes you writhe and moan and scream and whimper.”
“Oh my God,” she murmured and dropped her head back. “Isaac.”
Releasing her ankle, he licked the fingers of his other hand and stroked saliva across her clit with his thumb. Ava’s hips bucked off the ledge, and she choked out a sound, forcing fire through Isaac’s veins. While he stroked deep inside her with one hand, he continued to make whisper-soft circles over her clit and watch Ava rise until she climaxed.
Her back arched, and her pussy squeezed his fingers in convulsive bursts that made his cock ache.
“Oh, fuck…” she breathed, head against the piano.
Isaac smiled and pulled his fingers from her pussy, dripping wet. Without giving her any break, he covered her with his mouth, licking her juices. She gasped and shivered. Drove one hand into his hair and fisted it, lifting her hips to his mouth. The woman was so fucking hot, she bent Isaac’s mind.
He slid a finger over the sweet pucker of her anus, stroking until she moaned his name again. Isaac was hungry and hard, aching to exploit her inhibitions. While he teased her clit with the tip of his tongue, he slid a finger into her backside and lifted his gaze to watch ecstasy tighten her expression. Her head lolled to the side as she watched him work her. Her eyes hazed over, her lips parted, and her legs relaxed even wider. With her hands braced on the piano cover, her feet on the bench, she lifted her hips, then lowered, fucking her ass on his finger, rubbing her pussy against his mouth.
Her head dropped back on a moan. Her body trembled.
Isaac plunged his finger deep on each drop of her ass, never giving her clit more than a split-second brush with his tongue. Ava was wild with lust, rocking her hips faster, driving into his hand harder.
When she broke, she shattered. Her body bucked. Her thighs closed, squeezing his head. Isaac covered her pussy with his mouth, drove his tongue into her, and rubbed her clit with his lips, eating her and eating her and eating her, reveling in the series of chaotic orgasms ripping through her body.
Ava finally pushed a hand into his hair and fisted it, pulling his mouth away. “Stop, stop, stop.”
“Need a break, baby?”
“Yes.”
Isaac pushed to his feet and used his body weight to keep her steady while he dragged his wallet from his back pocket. It felt like a lifetime before he could rip the condom open and roll it on. “Okay, break’s over.”
He gripped her waist, dropped her to her feet, and spun her toward the piano. After spreading her arms wide and curving her hands over the turn of the wooden key cover, Isaac guided his cock to her pussy and thrust. She enveloped him, her pussy slick and hot.
“Ah, fuck,” he bit out.
He tried to fuck her slowly, but the way she moved, the sounds she made, the sight of her bare ass, the way she held tight to the piano to meet his hammering thrusts. It was all too much. Too perfect. Isaac barely held out as he drove her to one final orgasm before letting his own tear him apart.
13
Ava floated awake, lying halfway on top of Isaac. His skin warmed her cheek. His breathing created a steady rise and fall beneath her head. And the sound of his heart thrummed rhythmically in her ear. The bed supported her lower body with soft sheets.
He’d carried her to the master bedroom after they’d recovered from the piano escapade, and she smiled now, remembering.
How she wished she could stop time or bottle moments. She loved who she became under Isaac’s open-minded
gaze. For the first time ever, she didn’t feel judged. For the first time ever, she felt like she was enough—as is. Scrapes, dents, fears, and all.
That was a figment of her imagination, she knew. Isaac didn’t really know her. He might feel differently when he found her flaws. Her irrational insecurities started to drain perfection from the moment, and she forced her mind to stop jumping ahead. There was no future. There was no past. She only had to think about the moment—and this moment was perfect.
Isaac’s fingers sifted through her hair. “Sugar, it’s time to wake up,” he said, voice as soft as a mother waking a child. “You’ve got a long drive ahead of you and work in the morning.”
“I’m awake.” So much for the perfect moment. Fear stung her breastbone; the fear of forgetting something. She opened her eyes while her mind searched for the cause. No, she didn’t have work in the morning, but she did have an interview—with Tilman Steel.
The thought of going to work for her father’s competition both sickened and delighted her.
She lifted her head and offered a sleepy smile, then kissed his abdomen. “You wore me out. I feel like I could sleep for days.”
“That probably also has something to do with your stress at work.”
“Hmmm,” she said, pushing away the topic. “What time is it?”
“Around eight, and as much as I’d love for you to stay, I know you’ve got a long drive home. We can’t have you off your game at work. You’re between a rock and a hard place with your family.” He stroked a hand over her hair. “I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”
Way too late for that. Ava had already done it—all on her own. “It’s so peaceful here. I never realize how badly I need to slow down and appreciate things until I’m forced to do it.”
“Forced?” Isaac said. “Did your father finally pull his head out of his ass and make you take a mental health day? Because if you don’t have to go in tomorrow, I’ll gladly hold on to you.”
Someone who wanted to hold on to her. She was surprised at how amazing that could feel. “You are definitely good for my mental health. I’d love to stay, but I have an appointment tomorrow that I can’t cancel.”
She propped herself up on her elbows, rubbed her face, and pushed her hair back. When she opened her eyes, she found a rumpled hunk of muscled man she would kill to keep. But even while one part of her heart fought to open, the other remained locked down in cynicism.
He’s too good to be true.
He’ll find things he doesn’t like about you soon enough.
Open up to him, and you’ll find yourself right where you were with Matthew.
She pushed up to sitting with a sigh.
“Hey,” he said, “are you free Saturday night?”
She was free the rest of her life at the moment, and as much as she wanted to enjoy it, the sensation terrified her. “For you? Absolutely,” she said, pushing to her feet and picking up her clothes from the floor. “What did you have in mind?”
He turned onto his side, propped a hand under his head, and reached out with his other hand to stroke her thigh while she pulled on clothes. “I have this dinner I need to go to. A work thing for my dad. It’s pretty fancy, but I don’t have to stay long. I just want to be there for him.” He paused, then added, “And I want you to see where I come from.”
“Umm…” She straightened her skirt, using it as an excuse not to meet his gaze.
“What’s that face?” he asked.
She looked up. “What face?”
“That one you just made. Looked a lot like a kid told to eat her vegetables.”
“I’m sorry.” She sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. “I just…I don’t know about the whole parent thing right now.”
“I get it.” He stroked her knee. “We can play it off as no big deal. You know, just a date. They won’t push. They’re really great.”
“I’m sure they are.”
She covered his hand with hers and threaded their fingers. The need to please was ingrained, and it pulled hard now. But this need to please had also led her into the family business and into her relationship with Matthew—both places she’d come to realize she didn’t belong. She didn’t want the same thing happening with Isaac. It just felt too soon. But when she lifted her eyes to his with a rejection on her lips, she couldn’t say no. He looked too hopeful.
“This is important to you?” she asked.
“Not to me, but it is to my mom and dad, and they’re important to me.”
No matter how she spun it, she couldn’t find any bad in that answer. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “Okay. I could use a reason to get dressed up.”
He tipped his head back and whispered a triumphant “Yes.” Then wrapped her in his arms, kissing her neck. “Thank you. It’s in the city, so I’ll pick you up. And I promise, it won’t be on a bike.”
14
A knock sounded on Ava’s door as she touched up the foundation on her cheek. She startled, dropping the makeup sponge in the sink. Her building was secure, and she hadn’t given Isaac any codes. They also had a doorman who would have called up before he allowed anyone into the elevator—a thought that made her realize she hadn’t given the doorman Isaac’s name like she should have. She couldn’t have. She didn’t know it. They’d never gotten around to last names. Seemed crazy, considering all the intimacy they’d shared.
She smiled at the realization that last names didn’t enter into their attraction and affection for each other. And after a lifetime of being part of the Jennings’ steel monarchy, Ava found that utterly freeing.
Ava took one last look in the mirror and started for the front door. When she glanced through the peephole, her stomach dropped. Matthew stood on the other side.
Her shoulders fell, her stomach knotted, and she squeezed her eyes closed on a soft but emphatic “Fuck.”
Ava took a deep breath, blew it out, and steeled herself. Then opened the door a few inches and demanded, “What?”
He looked up from the floor and scanned her dress with surprise. Then a smile lifted his mouth. “You are going tonight. Fantastic. I’ve got a taxi waiting downstairs. We can talk in the cab.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” He looked good. Great, actually. His tux sharp and crisp, his hair gelled, his jaw clean. But he wasn’t the least bit attractive to Ava. In fact, he disgusted her. “We’re not going anywhere together, ever again.”
She started to close the door, then thought about what he’d said and jerked it open again. “Where in the hell are you going?”
“The IEA awards. Jennings Steel is—”
“I know. But you’re not part of Jennings Steel anymore.”
“Oh, but I am.” His mouth curved in an annoyingly superior smile. “Your father hired me back.”
Ava’s jaw unhinged. Her brain buckled. “He did not.”
“Not to the job you fired me from, no. I understand I need to earn back your father’s trust.” Matthew gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I hoped that if you saw your father taking another chance on me, maybe you could too. I know I made a mistake. I was stupid, and I swear it won’t happen again. I’m ready to prove it to you, Ava.”
“I… That’s… You can’t…” she stuttered, unable to formulate an answer to that ridiculous underestimation of both the problem and an attempt at a solution. “I will never trust you again. If my father hired you back after such a disgusting display of character, he deserves what he gets. As for me, I never want to see you again.”
She slammed the door and walked to the balcony. With fury vibrating through her, Ava wrapped her hands around the railing and squeezed until her fingers went numb. “That bastard.”
Her shoulder blades pinched with the stab of the knife in her back. No one in her family had bothered to tell her they’d rehired Matthew. No one had contacted her about the event. No one had called to check on her after she’d walked out. Not even her mother.
Ava had never felt so insignificant.
So betrayed. Just when she thought it couldn’t get worse. “Sonofafuckingbitch.”
This bullshit only amplified her feelings for Isaac. He made her feel the way someone who cared about her should make her feel. His dedication to his own family reinforced her belief of how a family should act.
Ava released her anger on a deep breath and took a cleansing lungful of the warm air while she soaked in the city’s twinkling lights. Isaac had brought great perspective to her life in such a short amount of time. Even though she didn’t know where this new path would lead, she felt strong about following it because Isaac believed in her. Isaac built her up, where Matthew tore her down. She could see now that her values had never been aligned with her family’s. She’d only followed the path that had been expected of her.
Ava returned to the bathroom. She rinsed her sponge, cleared the countertop, and looked in the mirror one last time. She might not need her family, but she still wished they were what she’d always wanted. What she’d been pretending they were all these years. The same way they’d been pretending.
Her phone chimed, startling her out of the dark thoughts. She glanced down at the counter where she read Isaac’s message: I’m downstairs.
Ava smiled, and her belly tingled with the whisper of butterfly wings. The turmoil in her gut eased.
Be right down, she replied and checked her reflection in the mirror one more time, praying the calf-length silver-sequined dress wasn’t over the top for his father’s dinner. But he’d said black tie, so…
She slid her wallet into her clutch and made her way to the elevator. On the ride down, Ava thought of all the changes in her life over the last six weeks. For the first time, she was living for herself.
