Sonata

by Kenya Wright

  Groaning, he slowly pulled out.

  Thick drops of his sperm ran down my pussy and thighs.

  Afterwards, I cleaned up with some wipes. Apparently, those were Giorgio’s emergency wipes. Jean-Pierre explained that Giorgio kept a few emergency items under the back seat.

  I’m crazy in love. And he is too.

  We were a lazy mess after that. Fully satisfied, we lay on the limo’s floor. My gown and his tux were splayed out on the floor all around us.

  We relaxed on the limo’s floor as it cruised around Paris.

  Chapter 10

  The Sound of Love

  Jean-Pierre

  Giorgio placed an iPad on my desk. It had been paused on a video that took up the whole screen.

  I stopped signing the papers. “What’s this?”

  He pressed play. “Celina.”

  Finally, you show your face, Auntie.

  I didn’t know what was going on with all the murders, but I knew who the origin of the problem was.

  Celina. Always Celina. Now, what have you done? Now what scheme have you come up with?

  Looking at the image, I took in the surroundings as she walked past several people, pulling a wheeled luggage bag. “She’s at the airport. Which one?”

  “Charles de Gaulle Airport.”

  “So, everyone is in Paris?”

  “Maybe they heard how nice it is during the Spring.” Rafael walked in. “Don’t worry. I’m on the lookout for Celina. I have Shalimar being watched.”

  My head throbbed. “What’s up with you and Shalimar by the way?”

  “She’s still cold to me. I’m trying to give her a day or two to warm up.”

  “We don’t have a day or two.”

  Giorgio spoke up, “Maybe, Celina came to meet with Shalimar. It might be a good idea to stand back and watch what’s going on.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “We need answers. We’ve dropped the ball already. People have died.”

  Rafael shrugged. “We didn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “But we’ll be the reason why it stops.” I couldn’t have Eden sad anymore. I had to protect her, even from depression. “Take Shalimar some flowers, diamonds, anything that you think she likes, apologize, fuck her, and then find out what the hell is going on.”

  Giorgio smiled. “He wants you to seduce Shalimar.”

  “Pretty much.” I nodded. “You should take Giorgio with you. He can give you tips.”

  Rafael snorted. “Fucking the help, is not exactly a sign of charisma.”

  Giorgio shrugged. “I’ll be there for support.”

  I grinned. “I’m sure Giorgio can show you a few things—”

  “I’ve got it. I’m shit with women. I’ll be down in the car.” Rafael walked out. “Anything else, boss?”

  I ignored his attitude and returned to the iPad. “Hey, I told you not to fuck those twins.”

  “Yes. Yes. I remember.” Rafael slammed the door close.

  The door creaked open again. I figured it was Rafael coming in to add some extra point.

  Someone else cleared their throat.

  Giorgio and I raised our views to the person.

  My new maid Sophia, ducked her head in. She had long thick red hair that fell to her waist. Usually it remained in a bun, but Giorgio was here. And whenever he arrived, the maids wore their hair down, makeup covered their faces, and they somehow managed to vacuum my office in six-inch black heels.

  Here we fucking go.

  And they always wore lace topped stockings, just like the maids in his house. I was sure Giorgio was buying the stockings for them.

  Sophia blushed at Giorgio and then turned to me. “Excuse me, sir.”

  I frowned. “Yes?”

  “Would you like anything to drink? Or would your guest?” Ignoring her, I returned to signing the last bit of the papers. “Neither of us are thirsty.”

  Giorgio spoke up, “I am actually very thirsty. I would like some tea. Very hot. In fact, let me show you exactly what I want.”

  “You don’t have time for that,” I growled. “If we can get Celina coming into Paris, we can find out where else she’s been. Get on it, but first help Rafael.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  I glared at my maid. “Bye, Sophia.”

  “Yes, sir.” She blinked and hurried away.

  “Trust me, Jean-Pierre. I’m on it.” Giorgio took his time walking out, but when he left my office, he went in the wrong direction. The front door was to the left. He’d traveled to the right.

  What is up with him and my maids? It’s turning into a sickness.

  Truthfully, I was more agitated with not knowing what was going on around us, than Rafael and Giorgio. For years, I’d prided myself on being steps ahead of everyone else. This was the first time, when I was the one walking in the dark, while everyone else had a clue.

  I must’ve replayed the video of Celina walking five times, before a distinct sound filled the air. The loving melody of a violin.

  Hmmm. What is Eden playing today?

  For the first time that day, my shoulders relaxed. I didn’t even know I’d had them up and in a tense position.

  Eden played Eros somewhere far off in the house. When she did, the staff quieted, took their break, sat, and listened. They’d been doing that for a while. It had almost become set in the house’s daily schedule.

  What will she play for them today?

  The song began, and instantly I knew it before the next notes started. It was the sound of love. At least, our love. It was our new song. She’d began playing Strauss’s Sonata, but the more she practiced, the more it became her own.

  Sorry, Strauss. She stole it from you.

  Smiling, I rose from the desk, left my office, and walked down the hall. As I assumed. The butler sat in the living room with the others. He sipped tea. A few maids sipped wine.

  Let’s just enjoy the day. Why don’t we?

  Eden sat in the center, completely possessed by Eros. They co-created the sonata. The whole staff had apparently taken a break to listen. No one cared that I stepped inside. I checked the maids, but didn’t see Sophia or Giorgio around, assuming he was banging her in one of my supply closets.

  At least the supply closet will be the cleanest it has been in years.

  Giorgio always cleaned his messes.

  I returned to the room and left my cousin’s odd exploits alone.

  My staff were all enraptured with Eden.

  As I stepped deeper into the living room, she was getting closer and closer to the second movement.

  Romance had served as the first movement. It had all been romantic and sensual before. All pretty and smelling good. All full of love.

  But when Eden fell into the second movement it came through like a crash. It was nothing like Strauss’s Sonata. It was her own. Some had started Strauss’s sonata in andante cantabile. Andante meant moderately slow. Cantabile meant in a singing or flowing style. I counted Eden’s beats. Too fast. Too quick.

  She intended it. Eden was slowly luring us into the second movement by adding more tension. And then she glided us into the act.

  She created a turbulent middle section. It rudely interrupted the dream-like reverie of the beginning. It was violent, yet mysterious. It was haunting and sad. I loved and hated it at the same time.

  The second movement ran me raggedy with emotion.

  In the second act, I thought I would lose my breath.

  In the second act, I thought I would lose my mind.

  I sat down next to my chef who’d been lounging by the fireplace. Just when I was going to beg for mercy, she eased our broken minds and hearts into the final act.

  I caught my breath. I relaxed knowing that everything would be okay. The first and second movement had all been necessary.

  Because, how can someone truly have gratitude for the release, if not for the pressure?

  I’d been thinking about the smell of love, after our perfume date. But I hadn’t
put much into the sound of love.

  Surely sound was capable of producing powerful reactions in the listener. A lion’s roar would send shivers down most spines. The theme from a favorite childhood cartoon would trigger thoughts of nostalgia. While language was a vital part to communication, the sounds and tones contained within the language contributed to the words even more.

  There was definitely a relationship between sound and emotional states.

  Didn’t music produce some of the strongest emotional reactions in humans? Sadness. Excitement. Dread. Joy. If one gathered ten people in a room from different cultures, races, and religions, they could still get those ten people to agree to which songs were happy and sad.

  And Eden being a siren, she had power over sound. She commanded a powerful ability to conjure up images and feelings through her bow strokes. She tantalized the brain.

  I want to be inside of her. Right. Now.

  Finally, she entered into the third act of the sonata. It was a quiet, introspective part. The romance returned. The desire increased. And then Eden and the violin broke forth with ascending, slashing passages from its lowest to its highest, creating a sense of drama and importance. Yet a playfulness that snuck into the music almost without notice.

  I gripped my cock by the end of the song.

  Strauss would be jealous.

  She placed the violin on her lap and left position. Everyone clapped. She spotted me. I rose and clapped with them.

  They begged her to play something else, but I wasn’t having it. They were lucky they got to hear the whole Sonata at all.

  “Thank you so much, Eden.” I kept my expression neutral as my gaze remained on her. “Let’s get back to work, everyone.”

  The staff hurried off. There was still no sign of my new maid Sophia. It didn’t matter. Eden’s playing had fogged up my head.

  I had her back in my bedroom in ten minutes, both of us naked in another five. Giggling, she lay on my bed, breathless.

  “That was your last performance of that song. You can’t play the Sonata for anyone else.”

  She quirked her eyebrows. “Did I…do something wrong?”

  “No. I don’t want you to play, because it’s the sound of our love. When I hear it, I hear you moaning. I hear your sighs. Your laughs and giggles. I hear your cries. It’s too intimate for anyone else.”

  “Then, I’ll only play it for you.” She gazed at me with love blazing in her eyes. “No one has ever complimented me like that.”

  I gathered her in my arms. “I’m trying to figure out how I will fuck you right now.”

  “Maybe I can suck your cock, until you decide.”

  I grunted.

  And then Eden blessed me with a blow job, because she was an angel that I didn’t deserve.

  With Eden, it wasn’t about the heat of the flame. Not the spark. It was always the burn. The way desire ripped through me. The fire was just the beauty of our passion. The smoke was just the result.

  “Reine.” I tenderly gripped her hair at the back of her head.

  “I can’t wait to taste you.” Her lips parted.

  The second I pushed my cock into her mouth, she moaned, and I felt it all the way down my spine. Her tongue flicked against the tip.

  I grunted.

  She flicked again, owning me. I tried not to grip her hair harder, although I wanted to. It took everything in me to not slam my cock into her mouth. Her humming on my length.

  A ragged sound left my throat. No one had ever pulled that from me.

  Get control of yourself.

  She watched me—that damn siren—as she made me crumble and tremble.

  The way her mouth formed the perfect O while I buried my cock deep inside her, was the most amazing sight. I loved the way her face flushed, her skin bright and beautiful. Sweat beaded along her forehead. Those hazel eyes glowed with pleasure.

  This was what I had been missing all these years. I stared down at her. Only she had the light to fill the darkness in my soul.

  I thought the violin would give me hope. I thought killing would give me hope. Nothing had served as a cure. And then she became my cure.

  I reached out and touched the skin between her shoulder blades. My fingertips traced the black, inked lines of the violin on her back.

  I groaned. “Yes. Take me deeper.”

  She bobbed her head. Saliva spilled from her lips. My cock jerked in her mouth.

  I yearned to trace my fingertips down her back, across the tattoo, all along her spine. I craved to pound in that ass. “You’ve got me close to exploding all over your face.”

  Eden whimpered as she sucked the tip.

  “Jesus Christ!” I gripped her hair hard, unable to help myself. “Fuck, Eden. Goddamn it!”

  I wanted to claim her. Dominate her. Fuck every inch of her body. She brought out all the alpha in me. The beast that was greedy to consume her soul. The mad lover that hoped to be her poison. The dark hero that needed to be her drug.

  Because she’s my drug.

  And her body could never calm my hunger. Her pussy would never quench my thirst. I would yearn for release anytime she was with me.

  I’m going to handcuff her to me.

  In and out, I pumped my cock into her mouth, slipping deeper into madness.

  I’ll never let her go. I’ll never let anyone near her.

  Grunting, I tightened my hold on her hair even more. Hot porn noises came from her mouth as she sucked and licked and lapped.

  Her saliva soaked my cock just the way I loved it. I wasn’t the sort of man that loved a clean blow job. I liked it wet and nasty, slipping in and out of the mouth. She coated my cock with her spit and wrapped her fingers around my shaft.

  “Fuck. I’m about to come all over you.”

  It was close. That hot semen rose close to the tip of my cock. I was more than ready to shoot it all down her throat.

  Not yet.

  Slowly, I lifted her head back. She let go of my cock.

  I whispered to her in French, “Turn around.”

  She did as I asked.

  The second her ass was in front of me, her pussy exposed to me, I plunged deep inside those wet folds, spreading them apart. Still, she was so tight. So warm. So wet for me. And she hugged my cock just right, wrapping the length in wet, heat.

  She cried out, and I moaned with her.

  Harder, faster, deeper I pounded into that pussy. The bed rocked as well as the room. I gripped her hips.

  “Oh, Jean-Pierre.” She bent over more, putting herself in a delicious position. She rested her head on the bed as her ass remained high and up to me. Her fists clutched the silk sheets beneath her. Fuck. That ass was pushed up all the way, her pussy open and begging me to go deeper.

  I’m going to marry her one day.

  I watched my cock slide in and out of her. It glistened with her arousal. The sight fueled a primal urge. And so, I fucked her senseless.

  Yes.

  With every thrust and every moan, the sound of skin slapping against skin, it drove me further to addiction. This was also the sound of love. This was how it was supposed to be. Hot. Passionate. Blazing desire. Almost sinful, yet heavenly.

  Her cries of pleasure rose to the ceiling.

  She’ll be my wife.

  I knew that deep down in my soul. The thought excited me so. It was the final push to make me explode.

  “Oh, Eden!” I groaned, slipping my cock out as it throbbed and pulsed long ribbons of semen all over her ass and back. Decorating her violin tattoo in white drops and lines.

  “Oh, I love making you dirty with me.” I pumped my cock in my hand, spurt more drops onto her ass.

  After all these years, this was what I had been searching for. This was right. She was right. And not even the Devil himself could take her from me.

  Chapter 11

  The Art of Seduction

  Rafael

  I hopped in the passenger side of my car and waited for Giorgio to come downstairs. I didn’
t know what the hell Jean-Pierre was talking to him about, but it was taking forever.

  I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes had already passed. I put down the passenger window. My men appeared uncomfortable in the van behind me, but they wouldn’t say anything.

  Since Giorgio is coming along, he can be my damn chauffer.

  I’d named the car Destiny. She was painted candy apple red and the upholstery was midnight black. She flew and soared like an eagle. It was a splendid gift for a pampered man, and I prided myself on my own spoiling.

  I’d bought Shalimar a car too. All black and sleek, like that long hair that hung past her waist. She’d keyed it up and crashed it into the wall of an abandoned warehouse. A message had been delivered to my condo with a cracked headlight.

  The letter read, “I’m going to spend the rest of my life, squeezing out any memory of you in my heart and brain, until there is nothing, but blood and veins pulsing with hate!”

  Perhaps she didn’t like the color.

  I’d kept the cracked headlight on my nightstand because she’d touched it, and after all, it was a beautiful car.

  How could I fix things, when I didn’t know how I’d fucked them up?

  Sure, I fucked the twins, but there was more to the problem. I’d fucked them because Shalimar had been trying to get me to admit to feelings, I didn’t have the strength to admit to.

  They act like I haven’t been trying to get her back all these years.

  I checked my watch, realizing that twenty minutes had passed.

  What the hell is Giorgio doing?

  Right when I was about to call him, he showed up, whistling some damn song and strolling to the car. He had the I-just-fucked-the-maid-look. Refreshed. Pleased. And almost hopping in the air and kicking up his heels.

  He opened the driver’s side, climbed in, and closed the door. “Hello, my friend.”

  He also smelled like cleaning liquid, which was the other sign.

  “What the hell took you so long?” I asked.

  “Sophia.”

  “Jean-Pierre told you to stop fucking his maids.”

  “He did, but he still owes me, so I won’t stop until we’re even.”

  Giorgio and that damn birthday cake. He still hasn’t forgiven Jean-Pierre.