by Ada Frost
“You were amazing. How long have you been playing?”
“Since I was four. My mum used to play, and I liked to sit with her. Dad’s parents had a music room, but it was never used because my dad was more interested in microscopes and chemistry sets. My paternal grandparents paid for my mum to have lessons. They were so cool to do that.”
“And the dance?”
“That followed when I was around seven. I only do it for fun. It’s kind of my drug. I’m addicted to it.”
“Where is the sheet music?”
I averted my gaze as heat flooded my cheeks. “I can’t play and read music. I study the notes, I listen to the piece, and practise until I get it right. That’s why this piece was so scrappy. I haven’t perfected it yet.”
“If that’s scrappy, then my name is Aaron Rodgers.”
“Who?”
“Never mind, the point is you are amazing.” He studied me a moment, his blue eyes seemingly the only light in the room. “Would you play for me again, sometime?”
My first reaction was to refuse, but the desperation in his gaze had me offering him a placating smile and small bow of my head. He sucked in a breath as if everything rested on me agreeing. A flourish of pride swelled inside me.
“Would you like to play?” I pointed to the keys and laughed when he shook his head profusely. “Come on, something easy. Even Harry can play this one.” I nudged him with my elbow. He silently regarded me a moment, assessing if my intentions were innocent. I wondered what had made the man so cautious. Was it war? Did the assessing of every situation come with being in the armed forces?
Slowly, he rose to standing. I shifted on the bench and made a space beside me. It would be a tight fit, but we would make it work.
“This is going to be a disaster,” he muttered as he sat beside me.
“Stop snarking. It will be fine.” I chuckled and nudged him again. “Want me to let you hear what we will play first?”
I placed my fingers over the keys, sucked in a deep breath, and played. I was two, maybe three notes in when a loud bark of laughter filled the room. My mouth curled into a pleased grin before I giggled right beside him.
“Heart and Soul? Are you kidding me?” He placed his meaty hands over the delicate keys.
“You know how to play this one?”
“Everyone who has ever seen the movie Big knows how to play this one.” His deep chuckle had shivers racing through my body. I yanked the sleeves of my jumper down to hide the gooseflesh on my arms.
“Okay, Mr Big-Shot Piano Player.” I nudged him again, and he grunted like I’d wounded him. The joy on his face was breathtaking. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
And together we played. I snuck glances at him. His brow furrowed at first as he concentrated, and his shoulders bounced as he stamped his fingers down roughly onto the keys.
But it was worth it to see a slow smile curl his lips. His tongue peeked out at the corner of his mouth as he played, and when he hit a wrong note, instead of being annoyed, he laughed and a gentle blush warmed his cheeks. The longer we played the faster we got until we were almost perfect. He played the tune over and over until there were no mistakes.
As the last note rang out, he pulled his shoulders back so he was sitting up straight and glanced at me. His face was a relaxed portrait of true happiness. His eyes sparkled; his lips curved, showcasing a strong set of straight white teeth.
I hated to admit it, in loyalty to Harry, but this was the most fun I had had in a long time. “I totally nailed it.” He laughed.
“Don’t get too cocky, Mr Senior.” I giggled and pushed him with my elbow. A cloud fell over his happy expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Erm...Dermont.”
“What?”
“My name is Dermont. Ryan Dermont.” He paused before adding “Did I just sound like James Bond?” His bemused frown made me grin up at him.
“I thought –”
“Will’s parents adopted Jo when he was a kid. So he’s a Senior. I was legal age, and I guess there was no need to adopt me. They are my brothers in every sense of the word. We don’t share the same name.” He shrugged, but the pain in his eyes made me want to weep.
“You mentioned your parents died. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” He jumped to his feet, the movement almost toppling me from the bench. “Look, I understand you’re my boss, and I shouldn’t be rude, but some subjects are off limits. I refuse to discuss my parents.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“Huh?”
“Senior or Dermont?”
“Dermont is my name,” he said briskly.
“That isn’t what I asked.” He clenched his fists by his sides. I knew he was fighting to control his temper. He was a ball of frustrated energy. But strangely I had never felt as safe as I did in his presence.
“I don’t think you look like a Dermont.” His shoulders tensed, and his jaw ticked. He averted his blue gaze. “So to me you will be Senior.” He turned his back to me and lifted his hands to rub over his beanie. But not before I caught his slow grin.
“Want to see a neat trick?” I asked and beckoned Hercules over from the mountain of pillows on the floor.
“Sure.” I waited for him to turn around. He did and came to stand close behind me.
“Ready, Hercules?” My little pal wagged his tail and yapped up at me. I played ‘If you’re happy and you know it.’ And Hercules howled along until I paused, and he would bark at the parts where actions were needed. I had been teaching him this since he was a pup. Harry mocked me constantly about it.
Ryan startled me when he burst out laughing. I continued playing, but his laughter was infectious. He leaned towards me to watch my dog over my lap. My skin flushed, feeling the heat of his hard body next to me.
I stopped playing and fished a treat out of my pocket for Hercules.
“He’s a pretty smart rat.” Ryan coughed out a laugh when I turned and glared at him.
“You’re a heightist.” I huffed and reached down to tickle my pooch behind the ears.
“A what? Is that even a word?” His laughter echoed around the room.
“You are discriminating against my poor, defenceless dog.” I made a pouty face and turned my voice rather pitiful. Harry hated when I did that.
Ryan simply cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Fine, I refuse to chastise him when he piddles on your feet.” I leaned over and fake whispered to Hercules. “Poop in his boots. We won’t ever tell.”
“Hey.”
I chortled and stood from the bench. My bottom was numb and my neck ached a little. I stretched my back and glanced over at Ryan to tell him I needed sleep. But my lips parted, and words froze when I caught his icy blues fixed on my breasts. They pebbled under his scrutiny as if calling for his attention. He jerked his head up to look at me, his cheeks flamed, and he stood in an awkward clumsy fashion. I didn’t want there to be any awkward between us, so I pretended I hadn’t noticed his staring.
“I usually go for a run in the mornings, so don’t panic if I’m gone when you wake up.”
“I won’t get back to sleep tonight. I’ll run with you.”
I startled a little, not entirely comfortable with that idea. He must have seen that written across my face because he shook his head.
“Where you go, I go remember?”
“Fine,” I grumbled and headed out of the music room. I padded across the floor in the lounge towards the hall.
“Aloura?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s the TV?”
“I don’t have one.” I turned to go through the hallway door and stopped at his loud almost pained cry.
“What?”
“How can you not own a TV?”
“I don’t watch TV very often. If I want to watch something, I use my laptop. It’s over on the coffee table if you want to use it.”
A deep growl rose from his throat as he stalked to my laptop. “You do real
ise the players will look like ants on this thing right?”
“Goodnight, Ryan,” I called as I turned to walk away.
“Wait, what’s the password?”
“Doesn’t have one.”
“Unbelievable.”
I grinned as I headed up the stairs to bed, his low grumblings sending giddy fluttering through my chest.
The game was brutal. The Packers were annihilated, not that I could see shit on that tiny screen. I needed to fix that. Today we were getting a TV installed, even if I had to have it up here. I pulled my cell out of my pocket and fired a text to Will to tell him to pick one up, and I’d get him the cash when he got here.
I checked the monitors again, the cameras all working. The land surrounding the house was peaceful and undisturbed. The gate hadn’t been activated either, or I would have been alerted to it via my cell. My room looked like a tech geek’s haven. I had four monitors set up, two split into quarters showing each camera. I had a screen with the motion sensors on the perimeter, which were working fine, and a monitor I could use to email and shit. I’d watched a fox and her cubs playing under the large trees around 4 am this morning. It wasn’t long after Aloura had gone to bed, I’d brought her laptop up here and watched the game while keeping my eye on things. Or at least that’s what I was telling myself. It had nothing at all to do with the proximity to Aloura.
I closed the game of solitaire after the hundredth hand. I scrubbed my hands down my face, feeling tired to the core, but a restless energy moved through me. The noises in my head fought for my attention, clawing to the surface and wanting to break free. I lifted my fists and banged them against my temples, the pain a welcome distraction. But I could feel everything closing in on me.
I jumped from the bed and paced; it was pretty spacious and light. The bed was the main focus, a large double with a pine head and foot board. A pine chest at the bottom of the bed that I placed my duffel bag onto and a large wardrobe opposite the foot of the bed. The floor had a thick plush cream carpet. A tall mirror hung on one wall, and on the other a black and white print of a little girl dancing around in a ballet studio. The tutu she was wearing was the only splash of colour in the image. I wondered if that was Aloura as a child. I had looked at the image quite a few times through the night wondering the same thing. The child’s body was turned away from the camera as she stood proud on her toes, and her arms were stretched out to her sides.
You wish it was a current picture of her dancing.
I closed my eyes and growled at my idiotic thoughts. I cringed every time I thought about her catching me staring blatantly at her tits. What was I supposed to do though? She had completely captivated me with her music. I hadn’t felt so happy in so long.
“Oh, who the fuck are you kidding?” I muttered. The truth was Aloura had a killer body but most of it had been hidden under baggy sweatshirts and pants, but last night that sweater hugged her like a soft glove, and when she stretched, all her mouth-watering curves were right in front of me. An inch, that’s all I had a peek of, but an inch of that creamy skin peeked at me when her shirt lifted, and all I wanted to do was fall to my knees and beg for a little taste. My betraying cock twitched with anticipation.
“You bastard decide to work now?” I glanced down at the fucking thing, a slight bulge forming under the jersey cotton of my sweats. Two damn long years since I’d gotten laid. I scrubbed my hands down my face in frustration. Remembering the mortification, of my last attempt at fucking. When the woman had suggested a little blue pill, I practically threw her off me, paid what she was due, and ran like a coward. The head shrink I was forced to see after I was released from the hospital said I may experience penile dysfunction – there was no fucking dysfunction it just didn’t work. Again the shrink offered a tiny solution with Viagra, but if I tried to take that shit, I would vomit. Memories of needing to take that stuff at a different stage of my life made it impossible. I would rather go without fucking a beautiful woman than ever take it again. I glanced down at my now flaccid cock, hidden beneath my pants. I didn’t know whether to jump for joy I wasn’t getting a boner for my boss or weep at the loss of finally functioning like a man.
“You’re losing your damn mind,” I grumbled, yanking my shirt off. I needed a shower, pronto. I didn’t care I’d be showering after my run. I needed to do something to dispel this energy. Rummaging through my bag, I pulled out a clean shirt, sweats, boxers, and a towel. I laid them out on the bed, picked the towel up and my toiletries, and yanked the door open a little harder than I meant to.
“Hey, morning. You made me jump.” Aloura giggled and pressed a hand to her mouth-watering chest. How did you respond to that? Or should I say how the hell was I supposed to function when she was standing before me in a tiny vest and the smallest fucking shorts that were verging on indecent? Or were they panties? I gulped and muttered a good morning. Her hair was piled on top of her head in that confounded bun. I wanted to reach out and destroy the fucking pins holding it up there. Her skin was a little flush, and one side of her face had a small indent of a crease from her pillow. Her lips were plump and redder than usual, and so tempting I needed a kick in the ass to stop staring at her.
Her face brightened. “Not a morning person, huh? Well, let me use the loo, and I promise to make you some coffee. Deal?” She walked down the hallway. My eyes fixed on the round globes of her ass, the shorts so small I could see the crease of her cheeks. And God did I want to run my tongue along that crease. She stopped and turned. My eyes shot to her face before she caught me staring at her ass like a starved man watching a fine rump steak.
Stop fucking betraying me, you bastard, I wanted to scream at my cock.
“Are you still coming for a run?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat when it came out raspy and dry. I’d be coming in my fucking pants if she didn’t get the delectable ass out of sight soon.
Her lips lifted. Did she look relieved?
Once the bathroom door closed, I headed back into my room, leaned against the door, and shoved my hands into my sweatpants taking hold of my dick. The thing went as limp as a fucking noodle. I closed my eyes and brought the image of Aloura in that tiny outfit, her nipples straining against the fabric. It was easy to see there was no bra under the vest. My cock twitched, and I wanted to cry out in joy. I slid my hand up the shaft and ran my thumb over the tip. It had been a long time since I had taken myself in hand.
Is this really happening?
I glanced down at the slowly rising bulge in my pants but suddenly felt the loss of sensation. I pressed my head back against the wood, the thought of Aloura stripping out of those shorts and climbing into a shower. Closing my eyes, I brought the image of her hands over her wet soapy lush curves, the rivulets of water cascading down the mounds of her breasts, into my mind. I imagined the deep dusky pink of her nipples. Would she be bare at the apex of her thighs?
A rough groan ripped from my throat as my shaft hardened in my hand. The intense feeling almost threatened to send me to my knees. Gripping harder, I sucked in a breath through my teeth. It was almost too much. My spine tingled with the force of the sensation. I wanted to cry out and do a fucking dance that I could function again. It wasn’t that I hadn’t had a boner before I just had no interest in fucking using it. I dropped my bag to the floor with a clatter and glanced down. Releasing my cock, I opened my toiletry bag, pulling out the moisturising oil I used for my scars, and squirted some in my palm. I threw the bottle on the floor and headed to the bed, rested against the pillows, and roughly yanked my pants down to my thighs. My cock stood proud, and I slid my oiled hand over my dick and groaned in relief. This wouldn’t take long. Slowly, I worked my hand from the base to the tip, cupping my balls and squeezing gently. I lifted my head and scowled at my softening cock.
“Come on, you stubborn bastard.” Gritting my teeth, I fisted my cock firmer and quickened my pace. It was a losing battle. Pressing my palms against the comforter, I pushed my body up the bed and stared
down at the reason I hadn’t been laid in so long. Well, not the only reason, but it was a big enough factor.
Taking my semi-hard erection in hand, I squeezed, almost to a point of pain, and closed my eyes. I felt nothing but the sickening sense of failure. An image of Aloura in skimpy shorts floated in my mind. But I refused to degrade her that way. She trusted me for fuck’s sake. There were enough attractive women in the world to fantasize over without using her.
A deep growl rose from my chest, and I wanted to cry out and howl at the fucking misery of being such an inept clown.
The sound of a gentle knock had me punching the comforter, yanking up my pants.
“What?” I snapped and screwed my eyes shut at the anger in my voice.
“S-sorry.” Her voice was so unsure I wanted to wrap her in my arms. “I just wanted to know how you took your coffee. Oh, and the bathroom is free.”
I righted my clothing and stood from the bed. Sucking in a calming breath, I didn’t appear to be the wild beast I felt bubbling inside as I opened the door. And my breath caught. She had replaced the tiny shorts with knee length yoga pants that were nothing but a second skin. She had an even tighter top on, which curved around her breasts in a tantalising tease.
Christ, this woman was a witch with her ability to hypnotise my cock.
“Sorry. I’m a grumpy bas – ass in the mornings. I take creamer and sugar.”
She tilted her head to the side, in that adorably sexy way. Those deep brown eyes assessed me, and for some reason I felt completely naked to her.
“Did you go back to bed?” She was asking about last night.
“Yes,” I croaked.
“Did you sleep?”
“No”
Be civilised you prick.
My hands were balled into tight fists by my sides, the veins on my arms popping, and my jaw ached from clenching it so tightly. I needed to relax before she saw how tightly I was wound. Never would I raise my hand to a woman in anger. I’d rather slit my own throat. But sometimes words cut deeper than the physical. The last thing I ever wanted to be responsible for was dimming the innocent light in her eyes, and right now I could feel my control slipping.
