Conductor of Hearts: An older alpha male and younger woman short romance (Filthy Rich Love Book 4)

by Sadie King

  He shuffles over on the piano stool, giving me the space I need. I wipe my tears and turn to the piano.

  I play a few scales to warm up. He’s so close I can smell his crisp aftershave. It’s invigorating, and my fingers fly over the scales. I pause, ready to start.

  “Wait,” he says, leaning in so his breath tickles my neck. “Play with your top off.”

  He lifts up my t-shirt and pulls it over my head. It drops to the floor beside me, and I begin to play.

  As I start to play, he runs a hand up my back. I shiver beneath his warm fingers. It’s electric and also comforting, and I feel the tension ease a little more.

  He leans in and kisses the skin on the back of my neck. The shock of his warm breath shoots through me right down to my fingertips. They fly over the keys, confident and steady.

  As I play, his hand slides around to cup my breast. The nipples instantly harden as he pinches and teases. I catch my breath. It’s a delicious sensation, like I’m floating in pleasure above the waves of music.

  My playing doesn’t stop as he slides off the piano stool and kneels before me. His hands slide under my skirt and up my thighs. I gasp as he finds the wet fabric of my panties. Slowly, he pulls them down my thighs and hooks them off my feet.

  My heart is racing, and I’m breathing hard as I play; the slow melody pings with anticipation.

  Then his hand is on my thigh, pulling one leg open as he kisses the delicate skin. The sensation moves slowly up my inner thigh until he’s kissing the folds of my pussy.

  The music changes as the tempo picks up. His tongue darts out, matching the speed of the notes. A burst of heat and wetness flows to meet him. I lean into the music and keep playing as he strums the rhythm with his tongue.

  The music is building, and I climb with it. The notes ring out urgent and fast. The heat flows up my body to my fingertips, the passion of my body riding on the notes.

  He pulls me into him as the crescendo builds. My fingers fly over the keys, urgent and passionate as my climax explodes. I cry out as my body releases, and the music reaches its peak to match mine. My pussy throbs as I release the final few notes. The last chord rings out in the air as my body finishes shuddering. The tension is gone. I’ve played the piece perfectly. Better than perfect; I’ve played it with passion and purpose.

  He comes out from in front of the stool and stands up.

  “How long have you got before that damn phone rings?” he says, unbuckling his belt.

  6

  Ayden

  Hearing her play while I licked her pussy was the sexiest thing I’ve ever done in my life. My dick’s hard, and if I don’t fuck her soon, I’ll explode. She's looking at me with bright eyes and a sheen of sweat on her upper lip, and fuck I have to have her.

  Her phone starts to ring, and I grab it and throw it against the wall. It smashes, and her eyes go wide.

  “They’ll come looking for me,” she says.

  “And they’ll find you here. Getting fucked by me.” Her eyes go wide and rush of blood goes to my dick.

  She licks her lips “I’d love to, but I have to get to my audition.”

  Fuck. “What time?” I growl.

  She looks at her watch. “Thirty minutes.” She jumps up, startled, and scrambles for her clothes. “It’s across town. I have to go.”

  Fuck. I take a deep breath and call on all the restraint I have. It takes all my willpower not to convince her to stay so I can bend her over and plunge my dick into her hot pussy. But this is her big day, her big audition. I can wait for my girl a little bit longer.

  “Play like you just did and you’ll blow them away.”

  “Thank you.” She smiles at me, and I pull her toward me into a kiss. Soft and slow, her lips part for me. I swallow my desire and pull away.

  “You’d better get going. But come straight back here after wards.”

  She nods.

  I watch from the doorway as she races down the steps and to her van.

  “Good luck,” I call as she pulls away. I watch until her van disappears down the drive.

  Then I go inside and pull out my aching hard-on. I sit by the piano stool. Her scent is still on the neat velvet, and I breathe her in.

  The faint smell of her pussy sends my blood racing. She's left her panties for me, and I chuckle thinking of her auditioning with a bare pussy. The thought makes my dick throb. I press her underwear to my nose and inhale deeply. It’s sweet and sticky and smells like home.

  With my dick in my hand and her panties to my face I take a few quick strokes, thinking about her taste and remembering the music. It doesn’t take long for cum to shoot out, and I catch it in her panties.

  It’s a small release, and it does nothing to ease the desire burning within me. I thrust her panties into my pocket and go upstairs. I’ll pace the halls like an agitated animal until she comes back, and I can finally claim her as my own.

  7

  Laila

  I take the stone stairs two at a time. Manhattan Music School is emblazoned grandly across the entrance supported by two round pillars. I pause at the top of the stairs to smooth down my hair. A breeze lifts up my skirt, tickling my bare pussy and sending a shiver through my body. I smile to myself and push the door open.

  I follow the signs to the auditions and get to the sign-in desk exactly on time. I give my name to the lady, and she raises an eyebrow at me.

  “We have a warmup area to the left with some practice pianos.” She indicates a doorway. “But you’ll need to go straight in.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, flashing her a smile. I’m already warm.”

  “They’re waiting for you,” she says sternly, and a tremor of nervousness runs through me.

  I follow her to a room at the end of the corridor. With each clack of her heels on the wooden flooring, I feel my stomach clench tighter. She goes ahead and announces my name to the room.

  “Good afternoon,” I say to the four adjudicators sitting behind the large table. There’s a mumbled response, and one man puts his fist in front of his mouth as he tries to stifle a yawn.

  I realize what a bad move it was asking for the last slot of the afternoon. They’re done for the day and can’t wait to get home.

  I stand there for a moment, not sure if they’re going to speak to me.

  “Take a seat at the piano, dear,” says a woman with a kindly smile. Her grey hair is pulled back in a loose bun. Stray wispy bits float around her head like a halo. I recognize her as the dean of the school. Her disheveled appearance masks a creative soul whose reputation for eccentricity is almost as big as her reputation for music. She's the one I need to impress.

  The knot in my stomach gets tighter as I sit on the hard wooden stool.

  “I’m playing Chopin.”

  The woman nods encouragingly. I place my fingers lightly on the keys and begin.

  It’s hot in the room, and the tenseness has crept back into my body. My fingers stumble, and I hit a wrong note. I’m so furious with myself that I hit another. I lift my fingers off the keys, and the music stops.

  My heart is thumping in my chest, and it feels like I might throw up. One of the adjudicators coughs.

  I turn to face them. The woman with the bun is writing something on her note pad, probably about how terrible I am. But the man next to her is worse. He’s shuffling his papers into a neat pile, like he’s done for the day and getting ready to go home.

  They’ve written me off. All those years of hard work, and I’ve messed up the audition. I feel the hot sting of tears at the back of my eyes. No, I tell myself. It doesn’t end like this.

  “Can I start again?” I ask.

  The woman looks up at me and smiles.

  “Of course, dear,” she says putting down her pen. “Take your time.”

  I take a deep breath and start again. I use the focus techniques I learned off the internet and center my mind on the music. I close my eyes, feeling my way over the notes.

  A memory slides into my
consciousness of his warm hand on my back, his breath tickling my neck. I smile to myself; the memory is so clear I feel the hairs on my neck rise.

  I lean into the music, channeling the feeling into the notes. My stomach relaxes as my body responds to the memory of his touch. I can almost feel his hands on me, warm fingers sliding up my thigh. I part my legs slightly, and cool air caresses my naked pussy.

  The music builds, and my breathing deepens. I’m remembering his lips on my thighs, his tongue on my wet folds.

  Sweat beads on my forehead as my fingers fly over the keys. My body is alive with the memory of him licking and caressing me. My fingers zing along the keys, trembling with desire and yearning. I channel my passion through the notes, and they sing out as the tempo lifts.

  The crescendo starts to build as my hands dance fast and furious over the keys. I’m in a frenzy of passion as I reach the climax of the music. Thrashing out the notes, I stand up off the stool and it crashes to the floor behind me. I keep going, unable to stop until the final urgent notes of the climax of the music.

  I pause, breathing hard before caressing the keys with the diminuendo. The final note of the piece rings out, and then there’s silence. My chest is heaving, my panting breaths the only sound. I wipe the sweat off my face and slowly bring my focus back into the room.

  There’s silence from the panel. I dare not turn around to face them. I feel vulnerable and exposed. I’ve given them everything I have, and I knocked over their piano stool. They must think I’m crazy.

  Slowly, I turn to face them. The man who was yawning is leaning forward on the table. The kindly woman is sitting bolt upright, a wide smile on her face. The others are staring at me.

  “That was extraordinary.” The woman beams at me. “Welcome to the Manhattan Music School.”

  “You can’t just offer her a place,” says one of the men. “It has to go through the board.”

  “I can, and I have,” says the woman. She steps around the table and comes to shake my hand. “I’m Professor Chomsky,” she says. “I’ll be teaching you.”

  “Margaret,” says the man. “This is most unorthodox.”

  She laughs. “When have you ever known me to be orthodox?” her handshake is firm, and her eyes are clear and bright.

  “I’ll push you hard,” she says holding onto my hand. “I’ll teach you technique and focus and control. But only you can bring the passion. Can you do that?”

  I think of him again, buried between my thighs.

  “I can bring the passion,” I tell her.

  8

  Ayden

  I’m waiting on the steps for her when she pulls up. Not in the delivery van this time, but in an old battered hatchback. First thing tomorrow we’re going car shopping, I decide. I’ll buy her something safe and reliable and stylish, of course. Any car she wants.

  She throws open the car door before it’s barely come to a stop. The smile on her face tells me everything I need to know.

  “They offered me a place!” She leaps into my arms and I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her scent.

  “I knew you could do it.”

  She tells me all about the audition and the immediate acceptance offer. I carry her inside as she talks. She's animated and happy and full of energy, and her body’s wriggling against mine, making me hard.

  I take her to the piano stool, and we sit down. She's in the process of telling me about the music school when her face falls.

  “What is it?” I ask

  “I’m going to be based here for music school.”

  “Perfect. You can move in here with me.”

  “But is this your regular home?” She indicates the empty rooms leading from the entryway. “It doesn’t look like you’re here permanently.”

  I lift her chin so she’s looking me in the eye.

  “I want to be wherever you are. I’ve done a lot of traveling in the last few years, but I’m ready to settle down.”

  She smiles at me, and I know I mean it. I’ll do anything to have this girl smile at me like that every day.

  “And besides, there’ll be holiday breaks. We can go away then. Anywhere you like. I can’t wait to show you the world. But for the next four years this is home.”

  I lean in and kiss her mouth. Her lips part for me, and I press forward with my tongue. I slide onto the floor in front of her and run my hands up her thighs. I gasp as my fingers meet her soft pussy.

  “Where are your panties?” I ask mock horrified.

  “I believe they’re probably in your pocket.” She grins at me, and I laugh.

  “Guilty.”

  I had forgotten she went out with no panties. The thought of her walking through town with nothing but the wind against her pussy sends a shiver of heat down to my dick. I brush her delicate lips with my fingers, and my hard-on intensifies. I have to have her now.

  I pull her off the piano stool and onto my lap. Her skirt flies up, and I catch a glimpse of glistening pink before it settles over her again.

  I press my mouth against her as my hand scrambles for my belt buckle. She matches my urgency, and her strong hands come around and release me from my pants. Her warm hands wrap around me, sending pinpricks of heat through my nerve endings. Her hands are firm and hot, but it’s not enough. I can smell her pussy, and I want to be inside her.

  “I need to fuck you now,” I tell her as I take my dick out of her hands. I grab a condom from my pocket and rip it open with my teeth.

  Her hand comes out to stop me as I place it over my tip.

  “I want to feel all of you,” she says.

  My blood gushes at the prospect of going in skin against skin. I think of the image I had yesterday of children running through these empty halls. Then I think of how hard she’s worked to get into music school. I can’t let her give that up. We have the rest of our lives together, plenty of time to start a family.

  “I want that too, but only after you’ve finished your training. You’re too talented.”

  She nods and helps me slide the condom on.

  I lift her skirt and rub my tip against the soft pink folds of her. She moans as my dick passes over her clit. She's wet and ready, but I make myself hold off a little longer just to be sure. She presses her thighs against me and leans back onto the piano stool. I rub against her a few times, then gently slide the tip into her wet opening. She sits up, her eyes wide.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah. It’s just so big.”

  I chuckle. “That’s only the tip, baby.”

  “I’ve never done this before.”

  Holy shit, she’s a virgin. No wonder she’s so tight. The blood is thundering in my ears. I’m going to claim her for the first time and for the only time. She's all mine.

  “It’s going to hurt a little, babydoll. It’ll hurt when I break through your virgin barrier.”

  Saying it out loud makes my dick shudder in anticipation. I lift her up and slide her pussy further down my tip.

  “Oh my God,” she whispers, her eyes wide.

  I hold her there, letting her pussy get used to my girth. My thumb reaches round to rub her clit in soft circles until her eyes close and she moans in pleasure. I pull her down a little further on my impatient cock. It’s so fucking tight and she cries out, her eyes flying open. My dick’s resting against her hymen, and it’s taking everything I’ve got not to slam her down onto my lap and thrust deep inside her. Instead I keep rubbing with my thumb as I slide her up and down the top of my shaft.

  “You okay, babydoll?”

  “Y-yes,” she whimpers. “It feels so good.”

  Her clit's hard under my touch and I move my thumb a little faster, matching her breathing. Her climax is building, and my dick is pulsing under the restraint.

  “Come for me, babydoll.”

  She cries out as her body releases wetness over my dick. As she loses control, I maintain mine, pressing my thumb against her as I hold her on the end of my dick.

  Her puss
y pulses, contracting my cock into a delicious tightness. I wait until her shuddering stops, and then I start rubbing her slit again. She's leaning back, her eyes closed and her thighs twisting into me. It’s the sexist sight I’ve ever seen.

  She moans in pleasure, and I can sense another orgasm is building. She opens her eyes; they’re full of need as she locks on mine.

  “I want all of you,” she says. “Put it all in me.”

  “You ready for me, babydoll?”

  She nods. I press my thumb against her clit, and as the climax is about to take her, I pull her down my shaft.

  “Fuuuck!” she cries as wet, tight pussy envelopes my dick. Her pussy's contracting with the orgasm and the tightness, and the heat and her pleasure causes an instant explosion. My cry matches hers as we lock together, clinging on to each other, our pleasure running together.

  As the shuddering stops, I plant kisses on her head. She tastes salty from the exertion, and sweet.

  She opens her eyes and looks at me all dreamy and satisfied. “Can we do it again?” she asks.

  “Babydoll, we can do it every day for the rest of our lives if you want.”

  She throws her arms around me, and my heart melts into her.

  “That sounds perfect,” she says.

  Something brushes against my leg, and Buddy jumps up on the piano stool.

  “Hope you don’t mind us sticking around,” I say. He lies down on the stool, and his purr echoes around the room.

  “Looks like we all found a home,” I say.

  Epilogue

  Laila

  Six years later...

  There’s a harsh rap on the door. “Five minutes, Mrs. Miller.”

  “She's almost ready,” my husband calls.

  He looks back at me, mischief in his eyes, and we giggle like naughty school children. Ayden winks at me, then dives his head back under my skirt. His tongue runs over my pink folds and pleasure courses through me, escaping as a moan from my parted lips.