Lydia hesitated, but then a rush of blood to the head made the decision for her. She had come too far to turn back now—there seemed no way she could simply put the fleece back on and flee. She was entangled in the seductive threads of Milan’s erotic imagination, and it seemed, at that moment, the only place she wanted to be.
“That’s what you want?” she asked huskily.
“Oh, yes. It’s what I want.”
She dismounted from Milan’s lap and handed herself over to Evgeny, kneeling at his side, while he rose to his own knees and gathered her into an embrace. He felt different from Milan—he was slenderer and bonier, and his lips were fuller. Those sweeping eyelashes tickled against her skin as the kiss continued. He smelt of a lovely, unfamiliar aftershave mixed with his own male essence, now dried onto him.
“That’s nice.” Milan’s commentary came from over her shoulder. “I can only see your back, but I like the way those jeans fit your arse. Good and tight. In fact…”
Lydia, lost in Evgeny’s kiss, hardly reacted when Milan shimmied up behind her and placed his hands on her cotton-covered breasts, kneading and tweaking them while he nipped at the back of her neck. She felt his cock pushing at the seat of her jeans, trying to forge a path between her tightly denimed buttocks.
With one set of male lips on her mouth and another on her neck, Lydia felt her inhibitions dissolve. Milan teased her nipples while Evgeny held her by the hips, pushing her back against his lover’s body. When Evgeny reached for her jeans zipper, she was well beyond the point of no return. She mutely acquiesced to the slow exposure of her plain cotton briefs, enjoying the way Milan slid his palm down over her bottom and squeezed.
He nudged her knees up so he could pull the jeans all the way off, then batted Evgeny away and took possession of Lydia’s mouth again with his, tongue delving deep. Evgeny fiddled with her bra straps, freeing her breasts for more lavish attention. His touch did not have quite the finesse of Milan’s, but all the same he stroked her nipples to devastating effect until she was moaning into the violinist’s mouth and squirming between the two hard bodies that held her so firmly in place.
Milan released her lips and murmured, “What do you want first?”
“Hmm?”
“So many ways to play a trio… What movement should we start with? Allegro vivace? Or adagio?”
“Milan, I…”
“It’s okay. I know you’re shy. And this is an amazing thing for you. You want me to direct?”
“Please. You’re a good conductor.”
He stroked her cheek, smiling fondly.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
He glanced over at the cellist, and Lydia turned to look too, noting that Evgeny held his semi-erect cock in his hand while he worked at bringing it to full engorgement.
“Too soon after the last time?”
Evgeny nodded.
“Okay. Lydia, would you like to taste him? I can vouch for the flavour—very nice.” Milan nuzzled Lydia’s neck and held her around the base of her ribcage as he made the dark-toned suggestion. “He is nearly ready for you—he just needs a little oral encouragement.”
Lydia looked into Milan’s eyes, seeking something like reassurance, something she could trust. She saw sparks of fire, urgent desire. Was it enough? She thought it would be.
She bent forwards and knelt in front of Evgeny, taking his cock in her hands first, feeling its length and girth, before breathing over the glans. Milan took hold of her waist, keeping her balanced as she dipped her head lower. Evgeny cried out in rapture at the first contact of her wet lips against his half-mast prick and a frisson of tenderness overcame Lydia. Bringing her tongue forward to curl around the moistened tip, she felt a bloom of pride at the way his flesh firmed in her mouth, quickly and eagerly.
Meanwhile, Milan tugged at the waistband of her knickers, helping them crest the ridge of her buttocks and slide down her thighs, over her knees and down until she was nude. Naked in front of two men, both of whom expected to make her come.
She clamped her thighs together, shivering at the knowledge of her exposure, but Milan made deft work of parting her legs for his inspection, and he spoke in a low, masterful tone as she sucked and licked at Evgeny’s enlarging cock.
“You have a lovely pussy, Lydia,” he said. She moaned over her mouthful as Milan bent closer, his hair brushing the back of her thighs so that they goosepimpled, and his breath warmed her defenceless sex. “It looks so sweet and pink. I can’t wait to eat it.”
He spread her parted lips wider with his thumbs and she wriggled. Evgeny placed a hand in her hair, perhaps afraid that she might lose her rhythm if Milan distracted her too much. The gesture reminded her to attend to her task, and she stilled, letting Milan explore the relief map of her vulva and clit.
“Very wet,” he observed, gathering a coating of her copious juices from each crease. “You like giving head, Lydia?”
She made an inarticulate reply, sucking all the harder.
“You know what I like? I like a nice juicy clit to lick. I’ve got one here, just right for me. Swollen and ripe. I’m going to lick it until you scream. Are you ready?”
For reasons she couldn’t articulate, Lydia was suddenly scared of the intense sensation she knew Milan’s tongue would bring. Would it be too much to bear? Would she end up screaming or crying or embarrassing herself in some other way?
He appeared to sense her wave of reservation, for he removed his fingers from her sticky core and patted her rump for a moment, the gentle rhythm of it settling her once more, whilst the sudden absence of his wicked doings between her legs proved too cruel to endure. She circled her hips, indicating that she wanted him back there.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s all for you. We want to make you happy. If you aren’t happy, we will stop.”
She pushed out her bottom, desperate now to feel Milan’s honeyed tongue on her most intimate parts. His breath was enough to set off a million tiny bubbles of lust in her stomach. Her clit felt heavy and huge, waiting there between her lips like the clapper of a bell, wanting to be rung.
He growled, and she felt the vibrations from his throat all the way through her. Her pussy tensed and contracted, then his tongue was there, hot and wet, muscular and tender, lapping her up as if she were the most delicious morsel on earth.
He pulled her bum cheeks apart with his thumbs, holding her widespread and vulnerable so that there could be no escape from the plundering strokes of that tyrant tongue. Her legs shook and she began to choke on Evgeny’s cock, losing control of her actions. The cellist drew his shaft slowly out of her mouth and stroked her hair. Her job was done and now she was reaping the rewards, gasping helplessly into the sofa cushion while Milan continued to lick her out with thorough expertise.
“You will come soon,” hissed Evgeny, tugging at her hair as if it were a leash.
Milan worked two fingers into her cunt and she began to spasm, yelping into the cushion, helpless beneath the onslaught of her idol’s ministrations.
She knew that Evgeny was watching her most intimate moment, and that Milan was chuckling in triumph, but this made the sweetness of it all the more intense and she let herself be taken into two pairs of arms and kissed all over her face and neck.
“You see how it can be?” whispered Milan.
“I think…I’m starting to…”
Two cocks prodded urgently at her hips and she wondered cloudily what was going to be done about that. Milan would have a plan, she thought.
“I think it might be a little too soon for anything too crazy,” murmured Milan, ostensibly to Evgeny. “But we can save the more advanced stuff for later. We have time. Lots of time.”
“So how do you want to do this?” Evgeny asked.
“Shall we just…hey, Lydia. You should have a say in this. Are you capable of speech yet?”
“Nn hnn.”
“I want to make love to you. Evgeny wants to make love to you. Do you think you could take both of us
tonight? Or if you just want one we can work around that.”
“I’m not sure.” Lydia flicked wide eyes up to Milan. She wanted him. She hoped he understood. Evgeny was handsome, a bonus, but if he decided to leave right now it would be fine by her. “I’m not sure how it would make me feel…”
“You want to play safe? That’s not a problem. So you and me tonight? Is it okay if Evgeny watches?”
“Umm…yes.” Was it? She looked up at Evgeny’s stormy dark eyes. Yes. He could come into the bedroom with them.
“That’s good. We want him to learn what turns you on.”
Milan stood abruptly, extending a hand to Lydia.
“Okay, bedtime,” he said.
Chapter Four
When she stood, warmed and naked against his body, he pulled her to him as if they were about to dance. He kissed her hard before twirling her back out, then led her to a room beyond the huge, plate-glass-windowed living room. Evgeny followed, his shoulders sloping a little as if he were aggrieved, bringing the brandy decanter and glass with him.
He slumped into an armchair in the corner and poured himself a drink. Milan and Lydia came back together, circling and kissing across the deep-pile carpet until they fell upon the huge, circular bed with its black satin sheets and piles of pillows.
“Oh, my God,” gasped Lydia with a giggle. “This is like the Playboy mansion. You have a mirror on the ceiling!”
“I am a famous playboy—what do you expect?” Milan settled his long, lean body in beside her, propping his weight on one elbow. He traced feathery patterns across her abdomen and chest with his fingers while he smouldered down at her. “You can see what I am doing to you.”
Lydia, staring up at her reflection, saw her body in a different light. She rarely looked at herself but now, flushed with desire, wantonly naked, she thought she looked lush and ready for ravishment. If it was obvious to her, it must be doubly so to Milan…and Evgeny.
She watched his fingers for a while before moving her gaze back to Milan’s face.
“So that’s what we’re doing?” she asked, suddenly insecure. “Playing?”
“We play for a living, my dear. Playing is a serious business. Let’s give ourselves to pleasure.”
He bent to kiss her lips and his kiss brought the gift of forgetfulness, of oblivion, sweeping away her doubts and fears.
He pushed his fingertips inside her and she opened up for them, rubbing her leg against Milan’s.
“Do you want me to take you now?” The words drifted over her skin.
“Are you…do you have something?”
“It’s okay. Evgeny!”
His imperious tone brought the cellist rushing across the room to hand over a condom from the dresser. Lydia watched him from the corner of her eye, noting the curious fascination in his face. He did not return to the chair but remained at the end of the bed, holding his cock in his hand and watching Milan apply the rubber.
“He can stay there?” asked Milan gently, lowering himself to crouch over Lydia, millimetres of humid air between their pelvises.
“Yeah.” His cock was lined up and ready. She was wet and pinned down beneath the legendary Milan Kaspar, about to be fucked by the greatest orchestral violinist in the world. She took a moment to drink it all in, then whispered, “Please…Milan.”
He seated himself swiftly, filling her. Her head swam and she moaned, wondering why it had never felt as good as this before. What was he doing that was different? Or was it just him, his magic touch, his artist’s consciousness?
Lydia brought a leg up over his hip and wrapped it around his buttocks, keeping him close to her. She held his shoulders, fingertips pressing into his firm flesh as he began, slowly at first, to thrust.
“You feel so good, Lydia, so tight,” he told her.
And the thought that this information could also be for Evgeny’s benefit made her moan aloud.
She looked up, seeing her face with its dewy blush and Milan’s lean back and powerful shoulders looming over it. God, what a sight that was. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, mesmerised by each back and forth motion of his thighs and bottom, the gluteal muscles tightening and releasing as Milan’s expert fucking took her higher and higher.
“How does it feel?” he panted, gathering speed.
“So good, oh, so good. Keep going, I’ve never had it like this…”
He growled and thrust harder, holding her by her hair so that trillions of endorphins sparked across her scalp.
“You’ll get it like this, oh yes, every day, every night, believe it.”
“Oh, God.” She began to whimper, the reflection on the ceiling blurring.
“We were right about her, Evgeny, she loves it.”
“I can see that.”
His rich Russian-accented voice, with its edge of dry humour, pushed her closer to the edge. She was being fucked and watched. He was taking notes for when he would fuck her himself. It was a monumental thought.
“Love it, Lydia, love it. We want to give it to you… We want to make you come…”
Milan’s fervent mutterings did the trick and she came, too overwhelmed to remember to look at herself in the mirror, twisting and turning beneath Milan’s strong body. He let himself go, releasing inside her, whipping his hair across his face.
He reared up, shoulders back, eyes alight, drawing a huge breath before breaking into laughter.
Lydia opened her eyes again, in time to see Evgeny join them on the bed, stroking his cock with breakneck speed. She stared from him to Milan and back again, squealing as warm semen jetted onto her belly and breasts, to her lover’s very obvious delight.
Later, lying cradled against Milan while Evgeny sponged off every last trace of semen with loving care, following up each dab with a kiss on the same spot, Lydia drew a coherent thread from the spinning wheel of her mind.
“Can this really work?”
“Of course it can,” said Milan, his chin resting on her head. “Don’t think about it. Just let it happen.”
“Just let it happen,” she repeated, smiling at Evgeny, who, for the first time, smiled back at her.
Upon arrival at the afternoon rehearsal, Lydia was aware of a buzz in the air.
She was also aware of a throbbing between her legs and a tight knot of excitement in her chest, but she tried her level best to ignore those.
Hanging up her coat, she scanned the groups of gossiping musicians for Milan, finding him amongst some string players, holding forth with a gleam in his eye.
She felt a pang in her heart. Milan Kaspar, her intense, charismatic lover. She needed somebody to pass the smelling salts but, instead, Vanessa appeared at her elbow, whispering conspiratorially.
“I hope you aren’t going to tell me he got you into bed,” she said.
“Umm…I’m not going to tell you that,” said Lydia, but she was pretty sure her blush was broadcasting the news on her behalf.
“Lydia!”
“Damn it, Vanessa, he’s impossible to resist.”
Vanessa sighed.
“I know,” she said. “Believe me, I know.”
Lydia caught her breath. “Oh?”
But there wasn’t time to elaborate. A group of important-looking people strode through the swing doors and up to the front of the hall, eliciting an expectant silence from the orchestra members, who immediately found their seats.
Lydia scurried to hers, fancying some pursed lips from the string players whose fun she had prematurely put an end to last night at Milan’s apartment. They clearly had no idea she and Milan had…oh, they had…
Her drift into daydreams was halted by the tapping of a conductor’s baton on the music stand at the front, wielded by one of the trustees she remembered from her interview.
She glanced down the row to Milan, who sat with his arms folded and a thunderous brow, scowling out at Lord Bicester, who was preparing to speak.
“It isn’t easy,” he opened, “trying to find a world-class conductor with a fr
ee schedule at a moment’s notice, as I’m sure you’ll understand. We, the trustees, had resigned ourselves to a long stint of guests and some broken concert engagements. But we have been immensely fortunate. Fresh from a successful run with the London Mozart Players, we have managed to snag one of the hottest young conductors around—please welcome Ms Mary-Ann McKenzie.”
Lydia applauded enthusiastically, having seen and admired the new conductor’s technique, but she couldn’t help noticing that most of the string section’s clapping was decidedly lacklustre. As for Milan, he hadn’t even unfolded his arms. How rude.
Mary-Ann, a slender brunette in a snappy trouser suit and owlish spectacles, stepped up to the podium, smiling warmly.
“Wow,” she said, pretending to be dazzled by the collective glare emanating from her new orchestra. “This is somewhere I never dreamed I’d be standing. I keep waiting to wake up and find out it’s all a dream. Better than the one where all my teeth fall out, by miles.”
She waited for a response, any response, but none came, though Lydia smiled sympathetically.
“Okay, well…” she continued, her cheerful façade cracking slightly. “Tough crowd! But let’s move on and talk about the schedule for the first part of the year, up to Easter. We’ve some one-off concerts leading into spring—one at the Bridgewater Hall, another at the Barbican—then at the start of April we’re off on a week’s tour, going to Budapest, Vienna and finishing in Prague. It’s a bit like taking coals to Newcastle with the programme, which is music about, or evoking, those particular countries and cities. We’ve got some Weber, some Strauss, some Beethoven, then some Hungarian Rhapsodies, Bohemian Dances and a bit of Má Vlast—”
She broke off. Milan had actually stamped his foot on the floor and everyone was looking at him. Lydia wondered if he was about to explode. He was deathly pale and his lips had faded into a tight white line.
“Umm, did you want to say something, Mr Kaspar?” asked Mary-Ann politely.
He shook his head, visibly seething. “No. Carry on,” he muttered.
Highly Strung Page 4
