Dark Notes

by Pam Godwin

  Dread swells in the back of my throat, and my skin breaks out in a sickly sweat. He knows. Oh God, he fucking knows.

  His gaze touches mine, his tone bitterly soft. “Fuck you.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walks away. “Have a nice life.”

  I hold my breath as his dark silhouette crosses the parking lot and melts into the shadows of the street. The road that will take him to the bus stop. To wherever he’s going. Hopefully to a place where he forgets all about me and the man at my side.

  Emeric’s sharp whisper jolts me out of my breathless stasis. “Get in the car.”

  I stretch my gait, running harder, faster, letting the burn sink deep into my muscles. The digital display on the treadmill reads 8.07 miles. I have two more miles to go, but I might cut it short this morning. It’s Saturday, and I’m anxious to crawl back into bed with Ivory.

  I’d still be with her if my internal alarm clock hadn’t woken me. Or maybe it was a nightmare. Awake or asleep, I can’t shake this chronic feeling of dread.

  It’s been five days since Shane Westbrook disappeared. He walked out of the parking lot, and poof. Gone. After I put Ivory in her car, I drove the streets, looking for him. Then I turned the hunt over to my PI.

  There hasn’t been a sign of him at the house—his or mine, at the bars in Treme, or anywhere in New Orleans.

  Of all the ways he could expose my relationship with Ivory, I repeatedly ask myself, Why would he? He has nothing to gain from it—except my retaliation. Why bite the hand that pays his bills? Doing so would only cause him to lose his father’s house, which seemed to be the purpose of his surprise visit. That, and to say goodbye to Ivory.

  Good fucking riddance.

  The pound of my sneakers paces my breaths as my thoughts race ahead to tonight. The Holiday Chamber Music Celebration will be a sold-out event. Ivory is years ahead of her peers and too damn talented for the concertos she plays.

  But I look forward to being there. I want to be at her side tonight and every night after, with an up-close view of every moment she shivers beneath the lights of her dreams.

  Midway through my cool down, the doorbell rings. I hit the stop button and grab a towel, my pulse sprinting.

  The security gate doesn’t encompass the front entry, so anyone can walk right up to the door from the street. Who the hell would be here at seven in the morning?

  I jog through the house, toweling sweat from my bare chest and neck.

  Ivory stands beside the open front door with her back to me, her silhouette haloed by the flush of dawn.

  What the fuck is she doing? She’s blocking my view of whoever is on the porch. If it’s someone from school…

  “I’m a friend of Emeric’s,” says a familiar feline voice.

  In three strides, I reach the door and meet Deb’s vivid hazel eyes. She spent some time styling her light brown bob this morning, her full tits and shapely legs on display in the skimpy dress.

  I suspect this visit is a mix of business and pleasure. “You should’ve called.”

  “I thought…” Her smirk reveals her dirty thoughts. It slips when she meets Ivory’s glare. “I didn’t know you had company.”

  It’s none of her business who I spend my time with. But she’s good people, and I have no reason to be a dick.

  Ivory crosses her arms beneath her chest, her boobs threatening to spill out of her tiny camisole. Then she turns her glare on me. “You know her?”

  “Yes.” I grip the muscle on the back of her arm and apply a warning pressure. “This is Deb.”

  Ivory sets her jaw and widens her stance in cheeky sleep shorts that reveal more ass than they cover. My dick twitches.

  “Ivory.” I wait for her to look at me. “Deb and I have a few things to discuss. Go start the coffee.”

  She presses her lips flat, studying Deb from beneath her lashes, then storms off toward the kitchen.

  I’m tempted to yank those sexy little shorts down and stripe her fucking ass.

  The moment she disappears around the corner, Deb steps inside and caresses her hands over my pecs. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  I clutch her wrist and guide her back, hardening my expression with a look that makes her posture wither.

  She twists her arm until I release her, disappointment creasing her face. “Who is she?”

  I close the front door. “She is serious.”

  “I see that. She’s also a bit territorial, don’t you think? Where’d you find her?”

  “Where isn’t important. What matters is she’s not going anywhere.”

  She scans my face, and her shoulders slump. “Jesus. You love her?”

  Also none of her business. I turn away and head toward the kitchen, expecting her to follow. “Did you get the recording?”

  She catches up with me, dips a hand into her purse, and holds up a flash drive.

  I take it from her, hoping to hell I’ll never have to use it.

  In the kitchen, Ivory bends over my multi-thousand-dollar Astra coffee machine, squinting at all the switches. When she looks up, her attention locks on Deb, and a muscle bounces in her cheek.

  She refocuses on me, her finger blindly, sassily, stabbing at buttons. “This thing doesn’t work.”

  I feel my grin all the way to my cock. “Did you put the beans in?”

  “Beans?” She stares at the funnel on top. “This?”

  Adorable. With my hands on her hips, I scoot her to the side.

  Deb settles in at the island behind us. “Nice place.”

  The confirmation that she’s never been here should soothe some of Ivory’s bratty jealousy. I sneak a peek at her.

  Nope. Ivory’s arms return to a crossed position beneath her heaving tits.

  Focusing on the coffee, I level the beans in the scoop, discarding the ones that rise above the rim. It’s an impractical habit, one I enjoy for the pure trivia of it.

  “Sixty beans?” Ivory asks.

  “Yes.” I share a smile with her, marveling at the richness of her mind. “If I fill the scoop right to the rim.”

  Deb watches us from the island. “Why sixty?”

  Ivory leans against the counter. “Beethoven counted out sixty beans every time he brewed coffee. He claimed that made the perfect cup.” She raises her eyebrow at me. “He was rigidly meticulous.”

  She’s trying to insult me, but I know she loves my attention to detail.

  “So…Ivory?” Deb perches her chin on her hand. “Are you a musician, like Emeric?”

  “Yes.” Ivory smiles, sweetly. “Emeric and I went to Leopold together.”

  What is she up to?

  Her grin doesn’t look as sweet when she glares in my direction. “He still has a hard time accepting that I graduated with higher honors than he did.”

  I bite down on the inside of my cheek. I’m going to welt her so raw she sees triple.

  With the coffee brewed and poured, Deb spends the next twenty minutes outlining her adulterous affair with the dean’s husband, Howard Rivard. She’s been fucking Mr. Rivard for weeks, without his knowledge of the recordings or suspicion of blackmail. It’s more than enough.

  Ivory refuses to join us at the island, maintaining her stubborn position against the back counter. During Deb’s accounts, Ivory’s expression morphs between shock and disgust, all while maintaining a heavy glare of antagonism.

  Deb seems oblivious, her attention completely focused on me. “For an old guy, he’s really quite virile.” She winks at me. “But he’s got nothing on you, Sir.”

  “That’s it.” Ivory charges toward the island and slams a hand on the surface, the other pointing shakily at Deb. “Who is she to you?”

  Glancing at my wrist, I realize I’m not wearing my watch. But I know it’s still early. I’ll have plenty of time before her performance to draw out an appropriate punishment.

  Pretending to ignore Ivory’s outburst, I stand. “Thank you, Deb, for seeing this through.”

  She rises, glancing at Ivory and
back to me, her lips turned down. “This is it, then.”

  “It is.” There’s only one woman in my future, and she’s due for a spanking. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Ivory’s fuming glare follows me into the hall until I turn the corner. I wish Deb well at the door, close it with a relieved sigh of finality, and return to the kitchen.

  Ivory paces along the counter, hands balled at her sides. “You’ve had sex with that woman. That much is obvious. But what else is going on? Why does she do things for you?” Her tone rises to a maniacal pitch, her strides quickening as she circles the island. “Oh, right. Because she wants you. She’s so fucking hot for you I’m surprised she didn’t pull your dick out and suck—”

  “Ivory.”

  The strike of my voice brings her pacing to a full stop.

  Lacing my fingers behind my back, I give her a list of short, specific commands and punctuate it with a stern, “Go.”

  A flush spreads from her neck to her chest, and I bet it travels further down and licks her sweet pussy like a hot, wet kiss. She wants what I offer more than she dreads it.

  She stomps out of the kitchen. I pour another cup of coffee.

  Her needs, desires, and fears run deep. So deep she could easily lose her way in the darkness. She needs a rope, not one that tethers her to her horrific past, but a strong, unbreakable line to guide her forward. The bindings might hold her down, but I’m pulling the other end.

  I’ll never let go.

  With Schubert at my feet, I make him a plate of leftover chicken, grinning at the memory of Ivory’s stern tone when she moved in. No table scraps, Emeric!

  Sitting the cat in my lap, I let him lap at the dish of chicken on the island. It’s a harmless secret between Schubert and me.

  I scratch his neck while he eats and enjoy my coffee. When he’s finished, I take a shower and throw on a pair of jeans. Then I grab my favorite belt, a length of rope, and find her waiting for me in the music room.

  Naked and bent over the keyboard of the piano, she rests her palms on the lid beside the cuffs. Exactly as I instructed. Her feistiness might be my fuel, but her obedience is my fucking fire.

  Without speaking, I lock her wrists in the shackles and use the rope to tie a simple breast harness around her chest, making sure the vertical sections press against her nipples. She watches me with huge brown eyes, her curiosity momentarily outweighing her anger.

  Once her full tits are trussed up, I tighten the straps, cinching her against the piano until her chest brushes the keyboard.

  When I take my position behind her, the erotic view poises my arousal on the cusp of detonation.

  In teasing strokes, I trace the belt across the perfect rise of her ass. “What are the first rules I taught you?”

  With her cheek pressed to the surface of the piano, her lips push out in a heavy sigh. “No lies. Don’t question your methods. Never look away.” She cranes her neck to glare at me. “And always call you out for being a dick.”

  I swing the belt, my cock throbbing painfully at the sound of her yelp. “Apologize.”

  “Fuck off. That’s my rule, and it stays. Whatever you’re doing with that woman…” Her chin quivers, her voice a pissed-off snarl. “You’re a dick.”

  I stifle my grin and give her another hard whack. “You just doubled your strikes. Tell me what was going through your stubborn fucking head when you answered the door.”

  “I checked through the window first. I’ve never seen her before. Not at school or—”

  “Are you sure about that? Can you identify every parent of every student?”

  She squeezes her eyes shut and groans. “No.”

  “You fucked up.”

  “Yeah.”

  “No unnecessary risks, Ivory.”

  “Okay.” She rocks her hips.

  I let the belt fly, tapping, whipping, and pounding her ass like a drum, every strike filling the room with her musical moans.

  When her backside glows hot and red, I bend over the curve of her spine, tightly embrace her slender torso, and let her feel me breathing with her. My lips touch her shoulder, and her inhale stutters. I cup her breast, pinching the rope around her nipple, and she grinds her fevered ass against my trapped cock.

  I hold her there, caressing and kissing, until her breaths fall into rhythm with mine. “When I met Deb over the summer, she had some financial problems. I paid off her debt, and she did a few favors for me. Our relationship was physical, practical, and convenient.” I lick the soft skin on her neck, stroking her ear with a murmuring tone. “We haven’t been intimate since school began.”

  She nods, her entire body lifting toward my voice, shivering beneath my lips, and purring for my touch. “Imagining you with her makes me feel really twisted up.”

  Welcome to my world. With the belt in my grip, I tease her with it, dragging the leather up and down the V of her inner thighs. “You’ll never see her again.”

  “Thank God.”

  I release her abruptly and step back. “I, on the other hand, have to spend hours every day with Prescott, Sebastian, and all the other pricks who have touched you.”

  “Shit.” She closes her eyes. “I never thought of that.”

  I swing the belt again, over and over without pause. She tenses, whimpers, and jerks in the restraints. My cock throbs with the sound of every hard blow, my focus locked on the wriggle of her beautiful ass as I alternate between her cheeks, thighs, and the sides of her legs.

  Within minutes, she sinks into the pain, her muscles relaxing, all that smooth golden skin a canvas of pink stripes.

  Each snap of welting heat is a reminder she’s not the only one who feels jealous, possessive, and twisted up. But there’s a deeper purpose for the pain. It gives her the power to open her mind. To mend emotional injuries inflicted by men who used her. To put all her fears in my hands, trusting me to protect her.

  “Please, Emeric.” She bends her neck to see me, her eyes half-mast and clouded in a fog of agony and pleasure.

  Her pleading look and the hungry rush of her breaths jolts a primal current through me. I love fucking her, but nothing compares to this moment as she begs with a hooded expression, her fingers curling against the shackles, and her arousal leaking down her thighs.

  I grip the rope at her back and tighten the harness over her nipples, stimulating her until she releases a husky moan. Then I flog her again, harder, faster, relishing the bond in our eye contact.

  She’s mine, and her gaze tells me she knows this, her body trembling for me to take her and push her. To punish her so painfully she cries only for me, knowing I’ll keep her safe from anyone who wishes to harm her.

  When the tears finally come, she slumps over the keyboard and drops her head on the piano lid. Her skin flushes and shudders, her hips rolling with mindless need. She’s so fucking captivating I drop the belt, unable to slow my urgent frenzy to remove my jeans.

  I wrestle the denim down my legs and off my feet. Then I launch at her, dipping fingers inside her tight wet cunt and spreading her open. She moans and grinds against my hand, making me so goddamn hard I don’t have the patience to slow this down.

  I fist my cock with shaking fingers, line up our bodies, and bury myself in one, long thrust. We groan in concert, our hips crashing together and deepening the connection. Christ, she feels so fucking good. I drive harder, sinking and retreating, obsessed and enthralled with the snug clasp of her pussy.

  Sliding my hands over her arms, I hook my thumbs beneath the shackles and lace our fingers together. She clutches at my grip and clamps down around my cock, her breaths a musical motif of desire.

  Her reactions, her emotions, every movement she makes belongs to me. Entirely under my command to bend at my will. She possesses me, as well, in all the same ways. I’m hers.

  Leaning over her back, I show her through the twitching heat of my body that she owns me. As I pound inside her, lost in her warmth, she rests her cheek on the piano and gasps with her eyes clos
ed. Her soft mouth, the feel of her body against mine, and the bliss of her clenching muscles around me propel me toward release.

  “We’re going to come, Ivory.” I kick my hips and tighten my fingers around hers as the pressure in my cock builds, threatening to burst. “Now.”

  With her mind and body under my charge, she leaps off the cliff with me, moaning and panting as we plunge together into an exploding, body-trembling harmony of pleasure.

  I slide my lips over her spine, coating her skin with the heave of my breaths. She’s so sensitive, shivering against my touch. Fuck, I love that, almost as much as the way she strains in the restraints to arch into the brush of my mouth. I stay there, holding her in sated relief, mesmerized by the lyrical language of our heartbeats.

  Eventually, we pull ourselves from the state of exhausted bliss. After I untie her, we eat breakfast and return to bed in an entwined knot of limbs. There, I make love to her without fight or urgency. My hips rock lazily between her thighs, her ankles cross at my back, and my mind revels in the erogenous sensation of tenderness. I can fuck her gently or violently, missionary or upside down. Doesn’t matter as long as I’m inside her, with her, connected to her on every level.

  Too soon, the sun slants through the window and dips behind the horizon. I don’t want to leave the cocoon of her body, but it’s time to get ready.

  Showered, shaved, and groomed, I stand at the dresser in my tux, fucking with the bow tie around my neck. The sound of her footsteps exiting the closet brings my head around.

  The first glimpse stops my heart. As I absorb the view, my pulse restarts, ticking higher, faster, and striking the chime of complete and utter adoration.

  Ushered in ivory lace, the Louis Vuitton gown sheathes her knockout figure from the bateau neckline to the crystal pumps on her feet. I bought the dress after the first time I heard her play, knowing without a doubt she would wear it for tonight’s performance in a sold-out theater.

  “Turn—” My voice cracks. I cough behind my fist. “Turn around.”

  A coy smile lifts her lips as she pivots. Her long dark hair wraps in an elegantly messy knot on the back of her head, with wayward tendrils trailing down her neck. Slim ivory straps loop around her shoulders, leaving the expanse of her back on gorgeous display.