by L. B. Dunbar
I was lost in the increasing tempo. What started slow, exaggerated, and haunting, crashed into a race against strings. We fiddled fast and a bead of sweat graced my neck. Trickling down my skin, like a soft kiss, the hair on my nape prickled. My arms worked their magic to orchestrate the connection between bow and strings, the drag and thrust of moving in time to create such a sound. The frenzied playing increased my heart rate. Another tickle of sweat licked down my spine inside my dress. I shivered without losing my pace. The music rose and fell like the lift of a pelvis, the increased beating similar to that of colliding hips. The ultimate connection between two people could be felt between my legs as I continued to play. My breath coming harder, I battled through the sensual draw of my playing until the climax struck, and the music halted to a sharp end.
Breathless, my pulse raced in my neck. I breathed heavily in a moment of reprieve. My blood poured through my body like hot lava. I was turned on in a way I shouldn’t be in front of an audience. Yet, playing the cello could have that effect on me. The fine hairs on my arms stood up, despite my moist skin. The neurons called out to the energy in the room, striving for a connection with other atoms. Then it hit me. This sensation was all too familiar. There was only one other instance my body reacted this way; one other person who caused me to feel this anxious excitement. Without seeing him, every fiber of my being sensed that Arturo King was in the room.
While I sensed his presence, I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t confirm that what I felt was him actually in the room. I didn’t have time to concentrate either. We had to play on. I had five songs before we took a momentary break, Allora introduced us and then she sat to play. I exited the stage to keep our small group at its quartet size.
The Round Table didn’t necessarily have a backstage. It was more like a small space to the side of the platform. A strip of wood hid performers before they actually hit the stage, but the walk from the backroom to the side entrance wasn’t covered. It’s how we could see directly out into the crowd before the performance. I stood behind that small wall for a moment, trying to catch my breath. My head leaned back against it, and I closed my eyes willing the sensation of Arturo to leave me. He couldn’t possibly be in The Round Table, I convinced myself. He had two more cities after Christmas and a New Year’s Eve show. He was halfway across the world. Continuing to take small, shallow breaths, I rolled my body to face the stage.
The girls looked beautiful with the glimmer of candlelight on them. Enid’s hair was wild and manic under the dimness, and it gave her the look of something from another world. Trinity still looked sharp and edgy. The tips of her short hair damp from the enthusiasm she threw into playing the violin. Lace and Allora had matching dark locks. They glittered and shone sleek under the flames glow. I admired those women. They were my ladies of court, but I did not rule them. They were ruled by their music. I was merely a passing member under their reign. The Emerald Isle was their home. Mine was The Round Table.
I was trying to peek into the pit, squinting to see anyone clearly. The first person I made out was Canyon Blaze. He was a large man like Perkins and his presence was unmistakable. He stood front and center, so Allora could see he was there for her. Her mouth tweaked into a small curve, her eyes closed as she tried to concentrate. I sighed happily for her. Canyon had obviously crossed an ocean to be here for her special night.
I was standing straight, staring back at the 4Gs when I felt that shiver again. Within a second, a hand slipped around my waist and covered my abdomen. I startled but somehow knew I wasn’t to be afraid. A bristly cheek brushed my ear.
“You played beautifully, just like you.” His voice was deep, raspy and low. Seductive. Instead of speeding up, my heart rate slowed. I leaned back into him and he tightened his hold on me. We didn’t speak. We just stood there. My back pressed into his chest and his dark wavy hair tickled my neck as he kissed my exposed shoulder. He didn’t move his hand from protecting my womb.
We stayed like this through Allora’s set. My mind became a twist of string sounds and Arturo’s caress. On sensory overload, I concentrated on the thrust of the bows on strings as his hand started a slow caress over my stomach, pushing upward occasionally to dip under the weight of my enlarged breasts. Trinity’s sharp release dragged to the other side of those tightly wound strings, and it increased the steady rhythm of my heart. Arturo’s feet shuffled as he pressed me against him. A deep pulse against the strings from Enid, and I felt the excitement of him against my rear. My body was hyperaware of his, as always. We seemed to be in sync with the movement of the quartet. I leaned into him, adding the gentle pressure of temptation against him. Someone quivered over a string for a second before a deep screech continued the pulsing rhythm. His hand stilled its motion in time then slipped to my hip. With tender force he pulled me back to rub against him. The dragging sensation of the melody matched the torturous dance we were doing in the darkness of the side stage. We hadn’t spoken but our bodies conversed. The sensation of him behind me sent a zing of pleasure through me. My thighs tingled. My sex pulsed. My breasts ached.
The music stopped and the spell of pressing into him broke. I was sighing, my mouth open in frozen ecstasy. My body aflutter at the potential of his touch: the possibility of where it could lead, where I wanted it to go, and what I wanted it to do to me. I could only breathe out his name like I had done so many times, in moments of pure passion.
“Arturo.”
The crowd was applauding and Allora was rising. It was my signal to return to the stage.
“I need to go,” I said without looking back at him. He spun me, tugging me against him. Deep dark eyes caught a spark from the flames behind me and danced with pained expression. He was hesitant as he spoke the next words.
“I’ll wait for you?” He questioned it, as if I might not want him to wait. Then his face changed. He must have read something in mine, because that damn slow smile graced his scruffed face, and the confidence in him grew. Reaching for my cheek, he spoke with determination as his eyes peered into mine.
“I will wait for you.” He meant more. While I told him I would no longer wait for him, he was expressing to me that he’d have the patience for me instead. I nodded and the softest of kisses touched my lips. It wasn’t a kiss actually; it was just a touch, a brushing of his lips along mine. I sighed and instinctively opened my mouth to take his in, but he pulled back abruptly.
Dark orbs of desire stared at me.
“You need to go,” he said, his voice low, but still seductively raspy as his head gave a nod toward the stage. I stepped out of his grasp. His eyes watched my retreat until I had to spin and face the stage. His gaze was still on me, caressing my back, watching the sway of my hips, skimming down my legs. The pressure of eyes on me was like the hard feel of his lips or tender touch of his fingers on my skin. He was lapping at me, nibbling, and tickling, and I shivered with the electric sensation. Fine hairs stood again. Those darn neurons reaching out for a connection.
I was so physically turned on that I had renewed energy as I picked up my bow and collided with my strings once again. The connection was pure electricity. If I played any harder, I expected sparks to ignite and flames to combust from the nervous excitement I felt tingle over my body. I knew without looking, he was watching me. My thighs tightened in pleasurable tension. My center pulsed with the rhythm of the instrument between my legs. My breath came short as I concentrated on my movements. I was hyperaware that I had once played Arturo in this very position.
When we finally finished I stood abruptly. I signaled for Allora as we took a quick bow. Sparkles floated before my eyes I stood so quickly, but it was more than that. I was so turned on; I felt I might combust in an embarrassing explosion of sexual release on the stage of The Round Table. I walked slowly from the stage. Methodically counting the steps I took until I reached the shadows behind that short wall.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Concern was clearly on his face, until I leapt for him. My arms
wrapped around his neck and tugged him to me. My body slammed into his, and I tried to get every surface of me against every space of him. I held tight as arms wrapped around me. As if I wasn’t holding tight enough, he mumbled into my neck.
“Hold tighter, Guinie. Hold tighter.”
I squeezed until I thought I’d meld into him. My body would simply combine with his, and we would be one on the side of the stage.
“Where can we go?” he muttered, as if he knew what I wanted, knew what I’d need. Unfortunately, there was only one way to exit this stage. Taking his hand, I tugged him forward. We’d have to go through the pit of The Round Table, through a crowd that might not care to see me with Arturo King. But I no longer gave a damn, as there was no going back. I only wanted to move forward.
I let her lead us. I’d always let her lead in our sexual history. I’d learned long ago, I would follow her anywhere.
She tugged my hand and pulled me through the crowd. She was trying to keep to the edge, just out of sight enough to not cause commotion or raise a stir. I knew she wanted the attention to remain on the girls on stage. We didn’t need an audience. We needed each other.
She quickly entered the code to the secure private entrance and a thin ray of light highlighted into the bar. If heads turned, I never noticed. My eyes were trained on her. Where she went, I would follow. Once inside the hallway, she turned on me. I was startled, as I feared the worst. Despite the intimacy of her pressing into me on the side stage, and then the embrace where she held onto me like she’d never let me go, I was still hesitant that she’d slap me again. I’d been an ass of sorts.
Instead her lips crashed into mine. She struggled to get control, but instantly I took it from her. This is where I led. This was how I battled. I conquered. She submitted. It didn’t take long before our roles reversed. She surrendered quickly and then the thrill began. I’d go in for the kill, a torturous dance of tongues sparring tongues, and lips clashing with lips, and all the while, our hearts beat in a war cry.
I need. You. I want. You. I love. You.
The rhythm was succinct. Our hearts beat together. Guinie was the bow; I was the strings.
She pulled back gently and bright blue eyes sparked as they looked at me.
“I’ve missed you,” I said. I wasn’t holding back. I wanted her to know how I felt. It had been awful without her. I hadn’t been able to share my thoughts with her. I hadn’t been able to know how she felt. I hadn’t been able to comfort her, and I realized that without intention, she’d turned the tables on me. She’d done to me what I’d done to her. I didn’t believe it had been malicious. I knew how busy she’d been, as Kaye kept me apprised of her doings. She’d thrown herself into the 4Gs and her new project, GRiT, in an effort to avoid me, to possibly drown out her thoughts of me, like I tried to suppress thoughts of her.
This kiss told me the truth. She had missed me, too.
“Upstairs,” I muttered before she attacked again. My queen had turned into a warrior. She was on a mission. As her sexual experience grew, I never complained about take-charge Guinie. I loved her confidence. I loved her determination. She was taking what she wanted, and at the moment, that was me. We fumbled down the hall, mouths and hands continuing to grope as we found the elevator. The ding alert to its opening doors startled her, and she giggled against my mouth.
It was the briefest of rides to the third floor, and when the door opened, we both turned to face Talia. The nursemaid and confidant of Guinevere, her short stature stood like a frozen centurion. Hands on her hips, she glared but her mouth was opened wide. A smile cracked her features when Guinie leaned forward, kissed her cheek briefly, then reached back to pull me into the living space. We didn’t stop, though. She took a set of stairs and I followed.
Inside her room, she gently shut the door then locked it. Turning to face me, panting out of breath, she was suddenly shy. Her hands pinned behind her against the door. Her body leaned on the wood at her back.
“Should we talk?” she questioned. Something shifted in her eyes, and I panicked that I’d lose her. I didn’t want her thoughts to catch up to what we were doing, but I didn’t want her to regret speeding forward either.
“What can I say?” I asked. She looked at me. For a moment, I felt she was willing me to say something specific, and I had no idea where to begin.
“I haven’t been with another soul since you left.” I decided reassurance was the place to start.
“Neither have I,” she breathed. I realized for the first time, the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Guinevere could have easily been with another. I didn’t want to think back on how she had before, but in truth, in over fifteen months, she’d only been with one other person, once. It was too long ago to matter to me. She could have done it again. Any man in his right mind would have wanted her. I was in my sound mind when I had not been before. I wanted her.
“I love you,” I breathed. The truth of my feelings had to be next. Those words didn’t seem to cover my emotions for her, but it was all I had. I could write her volumes of songs, form combinations of lyrics, and still not string together any other set of words that explained it as simply as that. “I love you,” I emphasized a second time.
She pushed off the door and sighed the words in response to me as she collided against me again. We stood for a moment, in that tight embrace, before her tender lips began another assault on my skin. Short pecks turned to quick nips of my neck, then jaw, and finally my lips. I gave into her as quickly as she took my mouth. The struggle was brief. I was in control almost instantly. I had a hunch it was what she wanted. While she was instigating the fight, she wanted me to take control.
I pulled back, swooped forward, and picked her up. Carrying her to her bed, in her father’s home, she returned to her attack of my neck. My skin shivered with excitement. I laid her down, but she didn’t release me and I tumbled with her. My hand slid unabashed down the center of her to halt on her belly.
“Are you okay?” I asked. My eyes initially followed the trail of my hand, then instantly came up to her face.
“I’m fine.” Her smile proved her words. She had to be three months along. Perkins told me she was out of any danger at this point. I had to laugh at his “mothering” sense. He was suddenly an expert on childbirth.
I was positioned so that she lay on her back while I was on my side, but she was pressed against me. My hand continued its exploration over the thin, tight material that adorned her body. The strapless cut exposed her beautiful collarbones, and my lips fell to grace them until I transversed the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders. I nipped her gently and felt her curl toward me. I’d found the spot I recalled was a trigger on her. The short length of her dress rode up as she twisted to raise a leg over my hip. The distance wasn’t long before it slipped up to her hips and exposed the thinnest material covering only the dark mound at the top of her legs. Thin straps wrapped around her hips to the tender string of ribbon cleaving her lovely ass.
My hand immediately began to roam.
“Should we be doing this?” I questioned, not taking my eyes off the hand that explored her soft skin.
“Yes,” she moaned quietly. Her hands were making work to unbutton my shirt then loosen my belt. We each appeared to be only half undone. I needed us completely naked. She rolled, so I could unzip the side of her dress and tug the material down her body. Before me was a temptress in a strapless bra, which hardly covered her swollen breasts and the skimpy lace of the matching thong. I stood at attention, my dick straining toward her. It hadn’t had her touch in so long and I wanted inside her instantly. I didn’t need much foreplay; she was soaked, and I peeled back the thin thread of covering as hungry fingers slipped inside her. Her hips bucked slowly, her eyes rolling back as a deep groan of pleasure crossed her lips. Her arms rose above her head, and she twisted and turned with the stroke of my fingers. Her hair sprawled on the pillow, her mouth parted in desire. She was the image of a wanton woman, and I wanted her.
> “Guinie, I need inside you.”
“Yes,” she sighed, languid as I played her. She didn’t miss a beat as she continued to squirm and rub her thighs together, while I removed the remainder of my clothes. Not missing or skipping one chord of the rhythm, I spread her wide and slipped inside. Her eyes opened as she moaned. Her hips thrust upward to drag me deeply inward. She clenched around the hardness of me. Soft and warm, I was caressed by her inner walls as she refused to release me.
“Guinie, this isn’t going to last long.”
Lost in her own concentration, she simply purred in reply. Her fingertips worked over my back. Her ankles crawled up my calves to circle round my waist. I was braced on one arm as I used the other to loop under her knee. Hooking it higher, she stretched enough to reach my shoulder. The openness allowed me to thrust deep. My balls kissed her lower lips as she sucked me inside of her. She continued to moan and mew in response to my motion. It was controlled, measured, and methodic as we enjoyed the intense connection of man in woman. The King in his queen. The Heart reaching for his soul.
“Arturoooo,” she groaned low, as her inner walls contracted over me. The takeover was complete. She owned me as I invaded her with the release of my seed. I didn’t need to worry about filling her. She already contained a part of me inside of her. As we both came down from the high, and her leg slipped off my shoulder, my thoughts leapt to the baby.
“Did I hurt you? Did I hurt…” I let my voice fade.
“The baby,” she whispered, as blue eyes twinkled in the afterglow of our lovemaking.
“Yes,” I sighed. I didn’t want to argue but I had to know. “Why didn’t you call me?”