Striking a Chord (Siren Publishing PolyAmour)

by Mary K. Preston

  When Angharad walked out of the bedroom, dressed in charcoal slacks and a dark blue T-shirt, Paolo had the coffee nearly ready to pour. The shirt hugged her curves perfectly, the pants barely skimming her toes, fitted through her hips. “You look great,” he said, watching her twist her hair into a bun and secure it. He wasn’t sure which he liked better, Angharad’s casual style or the slightly severe way she dressed when she had to go in for meetings. With her hair up, he could admire the line of her neck, her bone structure in sharper focus. When she wore her hair loose, it gave her a softer, sweeter appearance.

  “What are you up to today?” she asked him, taking the cup of coffee he poured and adding milk and sugar to it before taking a long sip. Paolo shrugged.

  “I’ll probably call Syl a little later, see if we’re all going to be in the studio tonight. Maybe check out what Nick worked on last night.” Paolo poured himself a cup of coffee and led Angharad out onto the balcony. He offered her a cigarette and got one himself, sliding his lighter across the table and leaning over to collect her feet and rest them in his lap. She handed the lighter back to him, and he lit his own cigarette, taking a long draw. “You going to visit Nick again?” Angharad took a sip of her coffee and yawned, stretching her legs so that her feet rested at his hip.

  “I’ll probably just call him after the meeting, see when he wants me to come over.” She seemed about to add something, paused, and then took another sip of coffee instead. “Maybe I’ll get a night to myself,” she said with a sly little smile. Paolo grinned.

  “Good girls need their rest,” he told her, taking another drag of his cigarette and a sip of his coffee.

  “Is that why I’m so sleep deprived?” Angharad asked, amusement rippling in her voice. Paolo caressed the inside of her ankle, tickling her. He loved to hear her laugh.

  “If you don’t end up hanging out with Nick tomorrow night, we could go catch Verlan Verlaine,” he suggested. “They’re playing with The Digg and Free.” Angharad considered.

  “I’ll find out if Nick wants me to come over and I’ll let you know.” Paolo nodded, bringing her foot up to his face to kiss her ankle. Angharad took her feet back and stood, crossing the small distance between them and sitting on his lap to kiss him. Paolo wrapped his arms around her, wanting to undo the bun her hair was in. More to the point, he’d like to pull her back into the house, slip her out of her clothes, and spend the rest of the day kissing and teasing her. But he knew they both had responsibilities to attend to. He contented himself with kissing her neck, his lips trailing back up past her jaw and claiming her mouth once more, tasting the faint minty aftertaste of toothpaste mingling in with the sweet coffee flavor and some sweetness that was simply elemental to Angharad. His hands wandered over her body in his arms, his urge to have her again only an encouragement to tease. Angharad broke off their kiss with a laugh, poking him in the chest. “If you keep that up, I’ll never leave for work.” She kissed his forehead, rested against him a moment. “Insatiable Italian,” she whispered, giving him one last, quick kiss on the lips before she rose.

  Paolo stood with her and let her precede him into the house and sat on his bed to watch her apply makeup to her face. While he appreciated the effect, he never quite understood all of the various lotions, creams, toners, and other products she used in her routine. He did have to admit to himself that she had a much less involved routine than just about any other woman he had dated before, which made him happy. Angharad could get ready to go out in thirty minutes or less, and in Paolo’s opinion, she was always the most stylish woman wherever they went. She had a grasp of color, balance, and design that made his artistic mind proud to have her on his arm wherever they went. If the band ever won a major award, he would lay bets on Angharad knowing exactly how to dress for the occasion. The question of whose arm she would be on in that situation tickled his mind, but he disregarded it for the moment. They finished their coffee in bed, Paolo tempted to convince Angharad to call in sick. He had things to attend to, he reminded himself. The album wasn’t going to record itself. He watched her step into a pair of wedge heels and smiled to himself at the way they emphasized her feminine shape. He handed her a blazer to coordinate her outfit, and she wrapped her arms around him at the door, giving him one more sweet kiss before she left.

  Chapter Nine

  Nick couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so good. He stood under the twin showerheads, letting the hot water flow over his body. His skin still tingled slightly where he could remember Angharad’s hands on him, in his mind an image of her, asleep in his bed. Every time she came over, he felt a little stronger. Whenever she wasn’t around, he looked forward to her call, her text. He recognized the feeling of falling in love, and occasionally stopped in amazement that the prospect didn’t scare him. He was slowly losing the guilt of enjoying himself. It wasn’t as if there was any chance of ever getting Cynthia back. He mourned his wife, and in the time since he had started seeing Angharad, he had realized how deeply he had let himself drift away from the things that had made his life whole. To enjoy the company of another woman after months of celibate grief wasn’t a betrayal of his wife’s memory. It was moving forward. There was something in Angharad’s character that called to an almost wolfish part of Nick’s nature. He was driven to pursue her every time he saw her. When they went out together, to see a movie or go to a show or even grab dinner, he had to restrain the desire to grab her, take her somewhere private, and touch every inch of her body. Before their arrangement, he had been bound by monogamy and respect and brotherly love of Paolo to restrain himself. Now, however, he could indulge himself in her.

  The moment Angharad had arrived at his apartment, he had been pacing the living room, not anxious so much as anticipating. When he heard her knock, he ran to the door almost before Sophie could stir herself to bark, pulling Angharad in for an immediate kiss, reveling in the way she melted into him without hesitation. He had breathed in the scent of her. She had a softly floral scent with honey sweetness and a spicy undercurrent mingled with cigarette smoke. He didn’t stop kissing her even as his hands moved to the back of her head, finding the end of the long braid she had trapped her hair into and gently loosening it. The sensation of her hair against his fingers was like silk, the strands impossibly soft. He pressed her back against the door, lifting her up with the ease of practice and draping her legs around his hips, holding her up with his body and arms. Only then, with her helplessly pinned against the door, her arms and legs around him, did he unseal her lips, his own moving to kiss her forehead. “Tell me about your day,” he suggested, rocking his hips into hers, ducking his head down to kiss her neck. He delighted in the moan that left her, the look of surprised lust on her face. The control he had over the relationship was a balm to Nick’s grief. To know that he could turn Angharad on at any moment he wished, to sense her vulnerability to his seduction, quieted the voice in his mind that he should have been able to somehow prevent his wife’s passing. Every time he was able to turn her on so quickly, every time she responded to his touch with almost immediate arousal made him feel more powerful, more in control of the world. “Go ahead, tell me,” he whispered, adjusting her body so that his crotch rubbed up against her, so she could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

  “Tom talked to me about doing a new feature,” Angharad told him, her voice already breathless, and Nick turned his attention down from her neck to her collarbones, feasting his eyes on her décolletage. “He also told me… mmmm… sub-rosa, of course…” Nick nibbled at the hollow of her throat, smiling against her skin at the gasp of pleasure that interrupted her tale.

  “Go on,” he said, moving his attention back upward, to the sensitive skin below her earlobe, teeth and lips and tongue doing everything he could think of to make it impossible for her to continue.

  “I’m in line—oh, Nick! I’m in line to become a section editor.” Nick hummed against her skin, loving the way her grip on him tightened. He looked at her face, pulling aw
ay slightly from her body, and enjoyed the evidence of her arousal—her slightly parted lips, flushed cheeks, the rapid pulse he could see at her neck, just under her jaw. He pulled her away from the door, carrying her into the living room, laying her on the couch and pinning her down, rocking his hips into hers slowly while his hands wandered, free from the task of anchoring them both. He pushed her hips down onto him, imagining how wet she must already be. She got soaking wet in a matter of moments. In the few weeks they had been seeing each other, Nick had made it his goal to learn everything he could about Angharad’s body, to find every erogenous zone, every sensual weakness he could. In public they were little more than friends to the casual observer, but in private, Nick gave himself a kind of ownership over Angharad’s arousal. He found it impossible to keep his hands off of her, and the noises she made, quiet little moans and gasps and cries, spurred a desire for more, to make her moan loader. He loved the sound of his name leaving her lips in a delicious cry, loved the way she gripped him as if for life itself when she was on the edge of orgasm. He had taught himself the difference in the way she moaned when he was playing with her breasts, versus the tone when he teased her with his cock, letting her feel just the tip of him inside of her.

  And oh, if he had only known how wonderfully varied her talents were, Nick thought, his hands moving to slip Angharad’s blouse over her head, he would have asked Paolo to share her sooner. She was so respectable in public, so in control of every situation, the mistress of the put-down. In the privacy of an apartment though, her small, skilled hands wrapped around his dick with just the right amount of pressure, her thumb teasing the tip on every stroke. It had been something of a revelation to Nick, when he realized just how much she enjoyed touching him. She had asked him, almost timidly, if she could play with his cock, and when he had gestured for her to go for it, her eyes had lit up. He had not anticipated how good it would feel when she first ran her hand along the length of his erection, or how incredibly quickly she would get him off—or how turned on she was. He had worked his hand down to her cunt and found her soaking wet, and saw, though his sight was hazy, the way she thrilled at every moan that left him. The sight of her sinking to her knees in the shower with him, eyes dancing with mischief, was indelibly burned into his mind with the sensation of her tongue running all over his cock, the careful graze of her teeth against achingly sensitive flesh. He had been so lost in the incredible experience of her mouth that he hadn’t even had the presence of mind to warn her when he was going to come, and the visual of her swallowing down everything he had to give, a little contented smile on her lips as she sat back on her heels and looked up at him, made every shower he took an arousing trip down memory lane.

  “Do you want me, Annie?” Nick asked, sliding the bra away from her body, immediately laying claim to her breasts with his mouth. Angharad gave a strangled little moan underneath him, pushing her hips down into his. He loved to make her beg, loved the desperate, needful sound of her voice when he teased her beyond her ability to endure. He loved to push her a little bit further each time, to make her wait just a little bit longer, beg a little bit more. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure the pleasure didn’t come at least partially from holding himself back until she had begged a little bit more.

  “Please, Nick…” she panted, pulling at his T-shirt, dragging it over his head, and pressing her body up against his. Nick sealed her lips hungrily with his own, wanting more contact with her skin, becoming even more aroused by the crush of her breasts against him.

  “‘Please, Nick’ what?” he asked, intercepting her hands when they moved to unbutton him, collecting her small wrists in one hand and holding them over her head. “Tsk tsk, ma petite tricheuse, why should I give it to you unless you ask for it?” He admired the way she looked with her hands over her head, her eyes avid with desire for him, the way she strained against him, wanting more. He licked her neck playfully, biting the place where it met her shoulder. “Tell me you want me and I’m all yours.” He kissed a path down to her breasts, bringing one of her nipples to his mouth and suckling on it firmly, running his tongue over and around it until it was a hard little nub. He laughed to himself at the way she squirmed, trying to break his hold on her wrists, trying to gain control. His free hand found her other breast, and he teased her, rolling and lightly twisting her nipple between his fingers. Her gasp, mingled pleasure and pain, only increased the pressure on the nipple trapped between his fingers, and Nick dragged his teeth over the nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.

  “Please, Nick! Yes, I want you, please, please, I want you, Nick,” Angharad cried out, writhing under the onslaught of his teasing. Nick’s hand dropped to the front of her pants, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping, stroking her through the thin satiny fabric of her panties. She was already wet enough to have soaked through the thin material, and Nick let her nipple go, moving his lips up to taste her mouth again. He wanted to move immediately to her pussy, to taste the wetness of her arousal and feel her pitch and arch underneath him, but he held himself back for just a moment longer.

  “Keep your hands up,” he told her, letting go of her wrists, reaching down between them to pull her pants down over her hips to her knees. He gave himself just a moment to enjoy the sight of Angharad in nothing but panties, her arms stretched over her head. He lifted up her legs just enough to get rid of her pants, tossing them across the room. He let her legs fall back to the couch and leaned down, kissing her hip just above the band of her underwear, hooking his fingers in the fabric and tugging it down, sweeping his lips down. He parted her labia gently and ran his tongue up and down her entrance, lapping up the sharp sweetness of her pussy. Nick looked up at Angharad, saw her arms trembling, self-control at war with need. He licked her slowly, working his way up to her clitoris, evading the movements of her hips to force the contact she wanted so badly. Just when he was certain she was on the edge of orgasm, he pulled away, ducking around her hands as she brought them down from over her head to try to keep him where he was. He chuckled, standing up. “Naughty girl,” he whispered, reaching down to slip his fingers between her folds, barely skimming along her entrance. “I should make you beg some more for breaking the rules like that.” He withdrew his hand, licking his fingertips. His hands went to the waistband of his jeans, and he made quick work of them, pushing them down until he could step out of them. “Just this once, I’ll be nice,” he said, settling on the couch and gathering her hands again, pulling her body down to meet his.

  He put her hands over her head again, pressing them against the arm of the couch, holding them there with one hand while his other ran along her curves, downward. He lined himself up, giving her little bead of pleasure a rub with the tip of his cock before thrusting into her slowly, feeling her body yield to him with every inch of penetration. He moaned into her neck, so aroused by the foreplay that it took him a moment of struggling self-control to keep from climaxing immediately. How could he forget how wonderfully hot, tight, and wet she was, her pussy squeezing him like this, as if her body never wanted him to leave it? He retreated slowly, not wanting to miss an instant of the sensation of her wrapped around him, and began rocking his hips, thrusting up into her slow and shallow, teasing himself as much as he teased her, only moving a fraction of an inch deeper with every thrust. Nick barely held back the need to climax as he felt the wonderful friction of the tip of his cock rubbing against her upper walls.

  Angharad writhed and moaned underneath him, pulling against his grip on her hands, twisting her hips to try to trap him, her lips seeking out his face, his neck. Nick’s free hand wandered from hip to breasts to waist, caressing and teasing the all-too-willing victim beneath him, kneading her firm, supple flesh. He felt the sensations overwhelming him, felt his pace picking up mindlessly, his hips driving his cock into Angharad’s cunt, deeper and faster. His grip on her hands tightened, and he exerted the most control he could over himself, holding back. Angharad’s moans in his ears fought at his discipline, eroding everything but
the urge to plunge as deeply into her as possible. He kissed her, his tongue plunging into her mouth, his teeth finding her bottom lip and worrying it, his lips patiently closing on the offended flesh to let his tongue soothe it. In the part of his mind still capable of conscious thought, Nick wished that he could spend the rest of his life fucking Angharad, that he could feel her pussy muscles rippling around his cock on the edge of her orgasm for the rest of his life.

  He nuzzled her cheek, turning her head to give himself access to her long neck, teasing her earlobe before moving on to even more sensitive real estate. His free hand slipped between their bodies, finding her clitoris, his fingertips slowly stroking it, bringing up more wonderful sound from her throat, violent in suddenness and sweet in unconscious melody. He pressed harder against the tiny bundle of nerves, rubbing it with his thumb, craving the sound and feeling of her orgasm. He shifted his hips, driving his erection up against the spot he knew was most sensitive inside her, the patch on her inner walls he had found the very first time they’d slept together. He heard the change in Angharad’s voice from the gasps, soft moans, and little cries, into sounds that were even more delightful as she fought from long instinct to keep quiet, but couldn’t. He wanted to make her scream. Nick thrust into her more quickly, sliding out slowly only to press up against her walls again and again, moving his hips to rub himself against that spot inside of her with every thrust while he rubbed and carefully pinched her clitoris. Angharad’s whole body twisted underneath him, her back arching and her hips moving in counterpoint to his thrusts.

  He felt the tightening of her body around him becoming more and more erratic with every passing moment, knew she was close, so close, to orgasm. He smiled against her skin and, with the patience of a predator, waited for just the right moment, just when her body started to slip over into climax, and bit into her neck, right where it met with her shoulder. He felt her whole body tighten and a scream ripped through her throat at the sudden intense mingling of pleasure and pain. Her walls tightened around him in such a viselike grip that he couldn’t even keep thrusting but was trapped, the pulsing working on the last of his resolve as he came, in waves over waves, shuddering against her.