Chapter 15 Dahlia #2
He stretches out his arm toward the piano, the longing in his voice obvious. “Play for me.”
On shaky legs, I move to the piano, letting my fingers trail over the smooth surface.
“How long have you had this?” I whisper, emotions overwhelming me.
“Play for me, please,” he says, his tone edged in tenderness.
I take a seat on the leather bench. Brushing my hair back, I open the lid. “Any preference?”
“Moonlight Sonata.”
I nod, letting my fingers fly over the keyboard. This piano produces crystal-clear notes, making it a delight to play. Closing my eyes, the music takes over. When I’m playing, time ceases to exist. I am lost in the music for minutes, for hours.
I always thought pain was responsible for my becoming the prodigious pianist the classical world loves to call me. But as I play for him, I realize love is the catalyst, the strongest of emotions. It drives me to give my all—the broken pieces, the unwavering hope, and everlasting dreams.
Finishing, I search for him.
He sits in the leather armchair, completely engrossed in me.
Legs spread open and head cocked to the side, his elbow rests on the armchair as his index and middle finger dig into his cheek.
The first two buttons on his shirt are undone, revealing a patch of skin that makes me salivate instantly.
His other arm hangs over the side of the armchair with a tumbler of clear liquid in his hand.
In this moment, he truly looks like a dark king on his throne.
“Thank you, baby girl. I could listen to you play for eternity and it wouldn’t be enough,” he says, voice scratching at his throat.
I could picture vividly how we’d spend a quiet night at home like this. Me playing for him.
A tear slides down my face, and I quickly dab it away.
Enjoy the reality for a while longer. You can dream the impossible for the rest of your life.
Eyes locked, he swirls the drink in his hand before emptying it in one go. He places it on the small, black and gold table by his side.
Long minutes pass quickly, slipping through my fingers like a shadow. I can’t hold on to time, damn it. The knowledge wrecks me while his gaze unravels me to my soul.
His brows furrow, features drawn in deep thought. “Strange.”
“What is strange?” I fidget with my fingers in my lap.
I feel the safest with him, but he also makes me nervous. The power he has over me is thrilling yet terrifying.
“I want nothing more than to wrap you in silk, keep you safe, worship every inch of you. Hide you from the world so you’re just mine—my precious treasure, but at the same time, I want to dirty you up, fuck the living soul out of you.”
I suck in a breath, my heart rate tripling, the beats chasing each other in a wild race that leaves me stuttering. “I’m good with that.”
He chuckles. “So, you say.”
Standing, he approaches me. Every step drips with a predatory grace that makes me want to run. But I am rooted in place, hypnotized by those piercing silver eyes.
“Let’s play a game, malishka.”
Please let it be how many times he can make me come.
“What kind of game?” I murmur, the excitement lacing my words, betraying my desire.
He sits next to me on the cushioned bench and brushes his fingers down my sides, owning my attention.
“I’ll play you while you play the piano.”
“How long have you had it?” I rush to add, needing to know before he makes me forget my mind.
“I’ll answer this one question. So be a good girl and focus.”
I nod, thinking he set me up for failure. He’s after something. The question is what. He wouldn’t need much to gain my submission. I’ll gladly surrender for a few orgasms.
His eyes burn with potent feelings. “Since I imagined you playing for me and just for me.”
He might as well thrust his hand in my chest and rip my heart out and wear it around his neck as a charm.
Caressing his jawline, I trace my thumb along his sharp features that soften under my touch. “You were always there. Will always be there. I’m irreversibly bound to you…The impossibility, the dream, the pain…I need to express that or go mad.”
His eyes bore into me with a determination that leaves me breathless. “I’d rather join you in madness than lose you.”
I nod through a gulp. My confirmation appeases him enough for that playful gleam to return.
Here we go.
“What are the stakes?” I ask, wetting my lips as he wields his magic, trapping me in a sensual trance.
“So eager,” he chuckles. Even that gesture oozes sensuality. “That might change.”
He snakes his arm around my waist and plants me on his lap.
I tilt my head to look at him, waiting for instructions.
“So, she can be a good girl,” he says, brushing his nose against my neck and kissing the curve of my shoulder.
He would win gold if seduction were a sport.
“The rules are simple. You play without missing a note while I make you come.”
In theory, I should have no problem. I can’t even remember the last time I missed a note. But I never had to play while he plays my body.
I glance from the piano to him. “What if I fail?”
He smirks. “Punishment and delayed gratification.”
Something tells me that was his plan all along.
“What if I win?” I breathe out, the sexual tension infusing the air—so heavy and potent I almost choke on it.
He nibbles on my earlobe, sending a current through me. “Then you’ll decide how tonight goes.”
No, he loves to be the one in control. That domineering side he has locked down for so long pummels at the walls, ready to be unleashed.
I asked him to give it all, and ready or not, he will deliver.
That doesn’t mean I won’t do my best to win. Keeping him on his toes is my area of expertise.
“Baby, I think we’ll make love tonight.” I grin just to mess with him. Regardless of what he says, I always get my wish.
He smirks. “Baby girl, you’re getting fucked so hard tonight, you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow. But I plan to keep you in bed, anyway.”
All I get is that he wants me to stay. There is nothing more I’d like to do. To love the man and tame the beast. I will take him for exactly who he is—the whole package and not play favorites.
I am not afraid of him, but terrified of this passion that might end up ravaging our very foundation.
Turning, my hands lay suspended above the keys in the middle, and his left hand splays on my side. And so the sweet torture begins.
I play the white and black keys in rapid succession—the sounds haunted and profound, just like Beethoven’s love for his countess. Tapping into the forbidden love aspect I understand to my marrow, I close my eyes.
The music sweeps me somewhere else that for a while, I forget about the game. I am on his lap, doing what I love most, being with him and playing the piano. Something I never thought I would experience.
I hit every key, reach every note, emboldened by his appreciative sounds rumbling in his chest.
I can’t believe he bought a piano for me to play for him. Well, I learned Russian for him. I should tell him, but I’ll wait a while longer, loving to hear the preposterous things he sells as the translation.
Losing myself in the play, I don’t know how much time passes.
It could be minutes or an eternity later.
Getting comfortable, I simply enjoy playing when his right hand parts my thighs, heightening my breathing.
I almost botch the rhythm, but I recover quickly.
It was a valuable lesson in staying alert because he’s sneaky, and I am prone to melt under his touch.
Not so easy, baby.
He clicks his tongue, tsking but secretly loving to unbalance me. “That was close, baby girl.”
Focus. Damn it. Focus, I urge myself. Not knowing when he’ll move his hand or where he’s going to touch me next, makes my brain light up with an overload of electricity. I might short-circuit.
His hand runs up and down the valley of my breasts, rubbing his thumb in a rhythm that both soothes me and drives me insane.
I will lose. I will so lose.