by May, Linnea
I look up at her and see her smiling down at me, an expression of playful pride.
“You naughty girl,” I whisper.
“You made me this way,” she breathes back. “And I love it.”
I get up from my chair and cause her to exclaim a sound of surprise when I lift her up in my arms, turning toward the hallway that leads to my bedroom.
“You’re staying tonight,” I tell her. “No ifs, ands, or buts.”
She presses her lips together to keep herself from following her instinct to do just that, to reject my invitation. I won’t let that happen, not tonight.
“And if you try to leave anyway,” I say, as we walk through the door to my bedroom. “I’ll just fuck you until you pass out in my arms.”
She shrieks with delight when I throw her onto the bed, following right behind her, hovering over her beautiful body like a predator. I lean down, claiming her with a kiss, and she moans as she welcomes my lips. Our tongues intertwine hungrily, yearning for each other, seeking a closeness that only exists between the two of us.
“Take off my tie,” I breathe in between our kisses.
She obeys and clumsily opens the knot of my tie as we dive into our next kiss. I didn’t tell her to do so, but she continues by unbuttoning my shirt. When I break our kiss again and stare into her green eyes, she bites her lips apologetically.
“Please,” she breathes, begging for me to allow her to undress me.
“Go ahead.”
I grant her permission and her eyes flicker with joy when I sit up and allow her to take charge for just this moment. She sits up in front of me, claiming another kiss while her hands travel beneath the fabric of my shirt, feeling out the outline of my hard-earned muscles. The moan she lets out while caressing my buff chest drives me insane with need for her.
She removes my suit jacket and my shirt, leaving only the loosened tie around my neck, playfully yanking at it, while casting a cheeky smile up at me.
I shake my head, looking at her through narrow eyes.
“You are asking for trouble,” I tell her.
Elodie smirks. “Am I?”
I push her back onto the sheets, grabbing her wrist and forcing her arms above her head, while she squirms beneath me, playfully trying to break free from my grip. Her struggle is half-hearted and when I take the tie from my neck while holding her hands in place, she stops moving completely, squealing with joy when I use the tie to fasten her hands together.
“Those hands better stay there,” I warn her, before reaching behind her back to unzip her dress. I’ve envisioned taking her like this numerous times before, which is why I chose a strapless dress that can be pulled down even when her hands are forced above her head. I slowly pull the dress down her slim body, appreciating every inch as it is exposed in front of my eyes, until Elodie is lying before me, wearing nothing but her lacy underwear and the matching stockings. Such a good girl, looking so sinfully hot.
“You should wear this for your next performance,” I say, as my hands travel along the inside of her thighs, causing her to shiver with lust and spreading her legs for me, more and more with every inch that I’m moving closer to her center.
“I’m not sure the audience would appreciate it as much as you do,” she whispers, looking at me with a mischievous smile.
As beautiful as she looks, I want her naked, so I can tease her sensitive body. She arches her back when I unhook her bra, exposing her perky breasts and her hard nipples. I cup her boobs, pinching her nubs between my fingers before I place my lips around one of them, sucking and licking to tease her further. Elodie groans and squirms, flinching when I add little bites to my treatment, and sighing with bliss at the throbbing afterpain of my bites. She’s lifting her hips, grinding against my leg with impatient lust.
I force her back down, bringing my hand beneath the fabric of her thong where I find the hot wetness of her arousal. She’s dripping on my fingers when I caress her sensitive clit, sliding between her lips and carefully fingering her. Another moan escapes her lips when I add a second finger to spread her, while my tongue is still on her nipples, biting, sucking, teasing. It’s almost too much for her. I notice her arms twitching, her hands threatening to move down to push me away and cover her agitated sensitive spots.
But she’s a good girl, restraining herself as she remembers my command. She deserves a treat for that.
I pull down her thong, straightening up so I can enjoy the view of her in front of me, completely naked except for those deliciously sexy stockings, her legs spread apart and her heated body heaving with lust as she looks up at me with pleading eyes. Still, her tied up hands remain above her head, exactly where they belong.
I get up from the bed, her eyes following me as I get rid of my pants to free my throbbing erection. Her eyes widen with hunger when she sees it, and I come closer, stroking my length as my place myself between her legs.
She moans and squirms, spreading her legs further to invite me. “Please.”
I move closer, teasing her wet entrance with the tip of my cock, searching for her eyes before I move any further.
Elodie nods. “It’s okay.”
She moves closer to me, and even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to resist at this point. I take her legs and lift them up while spreading her with my cock, fucking her bare for the first time and reveling in every inch as I push myself inside her. She moans as she takes all of me in, her arms flying up once again, threatening to move where they shouldn’t be, but Elodie remembers just in time, her eyes closing shut as she restrains herself.
I fuck her like I’ve never fucked her before, ramming myself inside of her like a wild animal while she shrieks beneath me, accompanying every push with a released moan. Her passion is contagious, egging me on even more. I lean forward, my face close to hers while I continue to plunge inside her wet center, while her tight muscles tense around me. Her eyes meet mine, dazed with desire and I grab her arms, allowing her to move them down so they’re wrapped around me. A smile flees across her face, and I can’t help but kiss her. Elodie is still the only woman I’ve wanted to kiss while my cock is buried inside her, and I’ve accepted that things are different with her. She made me lose my conviction, she proved me wrong without ever trying.
When I heard others talk about love, I pitied them, called them fools for falling for such an idiotic illusion. I had no idea. This is what it feels like. A hunger that can never be assuaged, the desperate need to be close to a person, as close as possible. Even now I wish I could lose that last bittiness of distance that still seems to exist between us. Physically, I’m as close to Elodie right now as two people can possibly be, but I still want more.
I will always want more with her.
Her groans grow louder, more desperate, and her body is shaking beneath me, announcing her release. I want her to come, I want to see her explode with bliss while being this close to her.
“Come!” I edge her on. “Come, and look at me when you do!”
She wants to reply something, but her frenzy robs her of words. Instead, she lets out one last, hearty sigh, and I can feel her muscles clenching around my cock when she’s overcome by waves of release. Instinct tells her to close her eyes, but she fights it to obey my wish and looks straight into my eyes. I can see everything in them. Her irises are widening, breathing with her throbbing orgasm as she loses herself in that staggering rapture.
Just before her release begins to fade, I join her in paradise, filling her as I reach my own climax with a brutality that’s new to me. Elodie reacts to my orgasm as if it was her own, erupting in another wave of thrilling spasms, as she accompanies me over the edge.
We’re breathing heavily, entangled in a close embrace after the euphoria dies down. I know this won’t be the last one for tonight. When I told her that I’d fuck her until she passes out, I meant it. I’m not done with her, not for tonight, not ever. I will be inside of her again and again, and I will come closer to her, trying to overcome that
last bit of distance between us.
She needs to hear it. I’ve been waiting for the right time and place, especially after I almost screwed it up with my outburst at the engagement party, when the words slipped out of my mouth without preparation. Even I wasn’t ready for them then, but I am now.
“I love you, Elodie Hill,” I whisper, reveling in the little chuckle and teary-eyed beam as she responds.
“I love you, too, Kingston Abrams.”
Epilogue
Elodie
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask again, leaning over to Kingston who has been nervously playing with the food on his plate for the entire evening. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.”
“Yes, I’m fine,” he insists, casting me a reassuring smile. “Stop worrying.”
“Oh, I think it’s sweet,” Mrs. Abrams interjects. She’s sitting opposite of us, her watchful eyes never missing a thing we say or do. “And she’s right, Kingston. I’ve never seen you eat so little.”
“Stressful week, that’s all,” Kingston tries to excuse himself.
“You asked for it,” his father says, casting him a reproachful look. “I told you, being the CEO of such a huge company in that industry, it’s no picnic.”
“It’s worth it,” Kingston says, his tone as sharp as always when he speaks with his father.
Even after agreeing to let Kingston take over, despite him still being a bachelor, Mr. Abrams still hasn’t forgiven him for what happened more than six months ago. The disastrous evening of the engagement party has left a dark mark on Kingston’s relationship with his strict father, who knew about the lack of feelings in his son’s engagement, but couldn’t care less about it. For him, there’s nothing wrong with a marriage being nothing more than a business arrangement, even though he didn’t marry Kingston’s mother for those reasons.
While she didn’t come from a background as poor as mine, she’s no Gloria Waldorf either and struggled through her entire time at Juilliard the same way I did. It’s one of the reasons why she felt close to me from the beginning. She’s the complete opposite of Mr. Abrams and has welcomed me with open arms from day one. If it wasn’t for her, things would be a lot harder, and not only for me. She was the one who convinced her husband to give Kingston a chance at this CEO position, even without a bride at his side. His stubbornness is unmatched. I will never understand why it mattered so much to him that Kingston was tamed by marriage before he could take over the business, even though I do understand that his promiscuous ways weren’t reassuring when it comes to his character, either.
The first time Kingston invited me to his parents’ home as his girlfriend, I was met with welcoming arms by Mrs. Abrams and a stone-cold stare by Mr. Abrams. It was terribly awkward, and even now, when I think back on that evening months ago, I feel sick to the stomach. While we’re still not on best terms with each other, things have gotten a lot better lately, and when we arrived tonight, Mr. Abrams even smiled at me. It was the same, warm smile that I’d usually just get from Kingston’s mother.
“How are things going with you, dear?” she asks me across the table, trying to divert from the topic of family business, which I know she doesn’t like to have discussed at the dinner table. “I heard you played for the Barringtons last week?”
“I did,” I say. “It was a fundraiser event at the most beautiful venue, very well-attended. I don’t think I’ve ever played for that many people before. They asked for a very classical arrangement, but gave me a lot of leeway for the composition of the program.”
Mrs. Abrams smiled. “That must have been right up your alley.”
“Yes, I enjoyed it a lot,” I admit. “And I think they were happy, too.”
“They were,” Mrs. Abrams says, to my surprise. “I’ve talked to Mrs. Barrington, she was very pleased with your performance. You’re making quite a name for yourself in our circles. People know about your classical expertise, and they appreciate it.”
I blush at her nice words. It’s always been hard for me to cope with compliments, but when they’re coming from someone like Mrs. Abrams it appears to be extra difficult.
Kingston clears his throat next to me.
“If you don’t mind, we’ll have to leave soon,” he says. “We don’t want to be late for the concert.”
His parents both look at him, nodding with understanding.
“Yes, sure,” Mrs. Abrams says, casting a warm smile in my direction. “The concert.”
I smile back, slightly confused. For some reason, Mrs. Abrams has been extra warm and friendly tonight, and even Mr. Abrams seems to be affected by it. He’s smiling at us, too.
We say our goodbyes and I’m surprised to see a black limousine waiting for us outside.
“You’re not driving?” I ask Kingston as he opens the door for me.
“I wanted to have a drink with dinner,” he says, as if that’s ever been an excuse for him before. “And another on our way to the concert.”
Even after being with him for half a year and being exposed to the luxuries that his wealth can afford, I’m still blown away by the limousine’s inside decor.
“Wow,” I gasp, sounding like child.
Kingston chuckles and proceeds to open a bottle of champagne for us while I hold the flutes for him to fill.
“Why so fancy tonight?” I ask him as we clink glasses. “I thought the concert was surprise enough. Scriabin, Ravel, Chopin - the program is amazing!”
Kingston smiles at me, looking as handsome as always in his navy blue suit that goes so well with his dark hair.
“Why must there be an occasion?” he asks. “You should be used to me wanting to spoil you.”
“I’ll never get used to that,” I whisper. “Never.”
The drive to Carnegie Hall is way too short, and even though I’m looking forward to the concert, I’m almost sorry to leave that luxurious limousine when we arrive.
Kingston acts as the perfect gentleman, except when he grabs my ass while we’re walking inside, reminding me of his domineering nature in bed for just a second. Even after all these months together, a touch like this still sends electrifying shivers through my entire body.
We leave our coats at the cloakroom, and while the clerk is handling my coat, Kingston taps me on the arm from the side.
“Could you wait here for a moment,” he says. “I need to go the bathroom real quick.”
I nod. “Sure.”
He winks at me. “Don’t get kidnapped, beautiful.”
My eyes follow him as he walks away, a confused expression on my face. He’s acting strangely tonight, and I wonder if I should worry about him. Is the stress at work too much? I’ve also never seen him drink this much champagne in such a short amount of time. He emptied two glasses on our short drive here, while I barely finished my first.
We’re very early and still have a lot of time to pass until the concert starts. This also explains why there aren’t many other people around as I wait for Kingston to return. Minutes pass without him showing up again, and just as I begin to worry, I’m approached by one of the young ushers.
“Miss Hill?” he asks.
I look at him, instantly frightened that something must’ve happened to Kingston. “Yes?”
“If you’d please follow me,” he says. “I am to bring you to your seat.”
“Uh… no, I’m waiting for my boyfriend to-”
“Mr. Abrams asked me to get you,” the usher says. “He’s waiting for you.”
I furl my eyebrows, but follow him through the hallway. What the hell is going on here? Why didn’t Kingston just come back for me like he said he would? He told me not to get kidnapped, and now this?
The usher passes every door that leads to the main seating area of the auditorium, and we’re coming closer to the stage with every step. I want to stop him and tell him that I doubt that this is where our seats are, but when he leads me through a door that clearly states ‘staff only’, I’m beginning to think that something strange i
s going on.
“Why are we here?” I ask him. “Where is Kingston?”
I’m starting to worry. How do I know this really is an usher? What if this man is a criminal who just put on a uniform to fool me and who’s about to kidnap me for real? Maybe Kingston was worried about something like this happening? Could that be it?
Or is it just my imagination running wild?
“Please,” the usher says after we’ve crossed another, much smaller and darker hallway. He’s opening another door, beckoning for me to walk through.
I hesitate. “Why-”
“Please, Miss Hill,” he repeats, winking at me. “Have a wonderful evening.”
I cast him another confused look, but follow his gesture, walking through the door - and right into the dark.
“What-”
I’m interrupted by the door closing behind me, and surrounded by complete darkness. Just very faint lights here and there reveal enough for me to see that I must be inside the giant Stern Auditorium, standing directly next to the stage.
“Hello?” I ask, my voice echoing through the darkness.
I jump in fright when I hear a familiar c-sharp minor chord coming from my left, and almost simultaneously, a warm spotlight is turned on, illuminating the stage where a song is played on a grand piano.
And Kingston is sitting on the bench, partly hidden in the dark as he plays the first few, soft tunes of my favorite Nocturne written by Chopin.
It’s the Nocturne I played for him on the day we first talked to each other in private.
I walk toward the stage, realizing that it is covered in red roses as I take the steps that lead up to it. The Nocturne is no easy piece to play and it must have taken Kingston a lot of effort to be able to perform it at all. His notes are as gentle and slow as they should be during the opening of the piece. He’s not always hitting the rhythm as the song dictates, but touching just the right chord in my heart.