Chapter 14
Captain’s Hall, Freedom
Shay
Enthusiastically, I lay my hand on the Steinway piano’s keys, ready to try out my very first chord.
First official chord.
I’ve been sneaking into the lounge to pretend that I can play D’Angelo’s grand piano like a virtuoso for days in preparation for my first lesson, despite the fact that touching it without his permission is forbidden.
But then, I’ve always been a rule breaker.
D’Angelo had better not think that us dating is going to change that.
I’ve been thrumming with excitement all day, waiting on this lesson.
Now, it’s Sunday evening, and the moon shines through the windows over the crackling fire that’s burning in the marble fireplace.
He’s spent the last hour teaching me basic concepts like the layout of the piano, adjusting my posture, and showing me hand positioning.
I can’t stop smiling.
I knew that I could trust D’Angelo to give me this. I didn’t think that a partner would want to put in the effort of teaching me, when he’s not getting any pleasure back.
Although, I’m giving D’Angelo a headache.
I’m only dressed in a scarlet t-shirt and black jeans. For him, D’Angelo is just as dressed down. He’s stripped to suit pants and a blue shirt. It’s open at the neck.
He’s not even wearing a tie.
He’s rolled back his sleeves to reveal his strong forearms that I bloody love but not more than I love his elegant fingers.
Fingers, which are tapping on his knee now like he wants to adjust mine, and I haven’t even played the chord yet.
My smile fades.
Have I got it wrong?
My knee bounces.
“Sit still,” D’Angelo barks.
“That has to be a record,” Eden’s voice rumbles from behind us on the couch. “Sixteen sit stills in a single hour.”
“These music lessons are either going to lead to them killing each other,” Robyn says, “or glorious, rough sex.”
“Audience participation is not required,” D’Angelo grits out.
“For the killing or the rough sex?”
I chuckle.
“For the music lessons,” D’Angelo growls.
I glance over my shoulder at Robyn and wink. “They’re being supportive.”
Robyn is cuddled in Eden’s arms, which appears to be her favorite place in the evenings. They’re both sprawled on the crushed velvet couch with Robyn’s head resting on Eden’s shoulder like he’s a plushie.
They look relaxed and like they belong together.
I’ll never get bored of seeing them like that.
Robyn’s red hair hangs in waves over her MURDERPAWS black cat t-shirt, which I know is one of Eden’s favorites. She’s been holding her phone in front of her and reading through messages so close to her face that it’s as if she’s reading them with her nose.
Eden’s clutching a cup of tea, content to simply sit and watch everything that’s going on like usual.
“Is that what we’re calling it?” D’Angelo drawls. “I call it comfortably sipping on tea, while counting the number of times I tell your twin to sit still, concentrate, and maintainposture. And you, principessa, when not throwing out snarky comments, are in a three-way WhatsApp with your brother and Neve, plotting ways to take down Melanie.”
Robyn opens and closes her mouth. “Mostly, but for the sake of transparency, it also includes discussion of the best new sex toys.”
“What respectable three-way wouldn’t?” I smirk.
D’Angelo snatches me by the chin, and my stomach swoops.
He turns me back to face the piano, adjusting my position. “Sit still. Concentrate. Maintain posture.”
“Is this okay?” I ask, looking down at my hands.
Unexpected nerves swirl in my stomach.
D’Angelo is strict and demanding just like he is on the ice but he’s a brilliant teacher. I don’t want to let him down.
Music has always been one of my escapes like the stars. I fucking love it. But that doesn’t mean that I have the skill to play it, right?
As if he can read my thoughts, D’Angelo runs his thumb lightly across the back of my knuckles, steadying my hands.
The gentleness of his touch, however, is not in keeping with his words. “I said that I’d teach you and I will. Now, play the chord. I should have got a ruler to rap against your knuckles, but you’d only enjoy that too much.”
“You know me too well, darlin’.” The tension bleeds from me.
I push down on the keys, hard.
Discordant noise echoes through the lounge.
Triumphant, I look delighted. “I did it!”
Why is D’Angelo wincing?
“Almost.” He carefully adjusts my hands. “Try again. The white key next to that one. There…”
I lick over my lips in concentration. “Got it.”
“Softly this time,” D’Angelo says, hurriedly. “Like you’re making gentle love to the piano and not rutting it.”
I choke on my tongue “When do you make gentle love?”
D’Angelo’s gaze becomes dreamy, and I’m certain that he’s thinking of Robyn. “You’d be surprised.”
Will he ever look like that when he’s thinking of me?
I nod, letting out my breath.
I loosen my shoulders like I would before taking a shot on goal. Then I force myself to depress the keys softly.
This time the sound that I’ve coaxed is pretty.
“Oh…” I beam. Pride surges through me. “You mean like that.”
D’Angelo’s smile is fond. “Near enough. You’ve done well today.”
I cast him a disbelieving look. “I mean, sixteen sit stills…”
D’Angelo’s lips twitch. “I was betting on at least fifty.”
“How did you become so good, Jude?” Eden asks. “You could be a concert pianist.”
D’Angelo flushes.
Praise doesn’t do it for him in the same way that it does for me. I also recognize the signs, however, of someone who’s spent a long time without approval from people who he respects.
“I couldn’t.” D’Angelo pushes his curls back from his face. “My sister, Maria, was the true prodigy in the family. We both learned from the same teacher, but she’s the one who went on to become a musician.”
My eyes widen. “That’s bloody brilliant. Do you still…?”
“I don’t want to talk about it now,” D’Angelo says, abruptly. “This is your lesson.”
My chest tightens.
I pull my hands back from the keys. “Thanks for this. It means the world to me. How about you give me a demonstration of how it’s meant to be done?”
D’Angelo leans closer to the piano like he can’t stop himself. He effortlessly dances his hands up and down in scales all the way from one end of the piano to the other.
I stuttered over a single scale earlier.
I roll my eyes. “Now you’re just showing off.”
D’Angelo flashes his canines at me, already buzzing with the joy of the music. He’s like this every evening that he plays.
I expect him to begin to play Mozart or some such shit.
Instead, he bursts into “Dance Monkey.”
Robyn laughs.
“Fuck, how fast are your fingers moving?” I watch him, spellbound.
D’Angelo’s curls hang over his face. He’s lost in the music.
How he’s playing now? Emotional, intense, with rhythm?
This is making love to the piano.
He’s playing without sheet music. I think that he’s making it up on the spot.
Like this, he makes me breathless.
When Robyn starts to sing, I grin and join in as well.
I barely stop myself from jumping up and dancing. But I don’t want to miss a moment of D’Angelo’s performance.
I think he’s wrong. No matter how good his sister was, D’Angelo’s also a prodigy.
Being sent to that fucking brutal discipline school may have fucked up his music career in a way that I don’t understand yet. But I love that he can still play and find happiness in expressing himself.
I love even more that he can share it with us.
I can see Eden out of the corner of my eye stand and stalk to join us at the piano, leaning on it.
Robyn is still singing, as she hangs around my neck and kisses my cheek.
I sing louder to encourage her, and now, she’s singing just as loudly as I am.
When D’Angelo finishes, breathing hard, he looks dazed.
For a moment, he appears lost and confused.
He blinks, as he realizes that he’s now surrounded by us all.
Eden and Robyn clap, and I whoop.
“That was incredible, professor.” I slip my hand onto his thigh and squeeze.
D’Angelo’s gaze refocuses and becomes wicked in a way that I’ve grown to love and fear. “Professor…? Although I believe that you can be taught to be my good boy, you have been rather a naughty student today.”
I gape at him. “Harsh.”
He nips my lower lip, deepening the kiss.
Then he whispers against my mouth “Feel like role playing?”
Oh, that makes sense.
I relax, as heat washes through me.
I’ve wanked to fantasies of this exact roleplay at least ten times.
I kiss D’Angelo, before turning to capture Robyn’s lips. “Fuck, yeah. What about you, love?”
Robyn scrunches up her nose adorably. “I’ve always wanted to be a professor.”
“Aren’t you another student?”
“She’s not the one who can’t sit still, concentrate, or maintain his posture.” Eden’s expression is serious, but his eyes are dancing.
I give him a betrayed look. “Hey, what about the bro code? Circle of Twins?”
Eden crosses his arms. “I’m not your brother. I’m…”
“A dick?”
To my shock, D’Angelo sweeps to his feet and then snatches me by the arm. He drags me up by the elbow to my feet.
Then he spanks my arse.
I yelp.
Through the denim of my jeans, it doesn’t hurt.
But my ego is bruised.
“Apologize for your rudeness,” D’Angelo says, sternly.
“Why?” I narrow my eyes.
D’Angelo slides his hand up from my elbow to the back of my neck and then shakes me in a way that makes me melt against his chest.
I feel so turned on that I can hardly fucking breathe.
“Because,” he whispers into my ear; my skin tingles, “you’re practically coming in your pants at even the thought of it. How hot are you finding this?”
“Bloody hot.”
“Don’t forget your safe words.”
“I won’t.”
D’Angelo pulls back from me and slips seamlessly back into character again.
If every one of my lessons ends in this type of motivating group scene reward, then I’m going to be a virtuoso myself by the end of the season.
“I’m sorry, Professor Puck,” I singsong.
D’Angelo spanks my arse again.
Robyn is trying hard to smother her laugh behind her palm.
“What?” I pretend innocence.
Eden arches his pierced brow, which for him, is like an entire sentence long answer.
And it means that I’m screwed.
“Isn’t that your name?” I pretend to think about it. “Wait, is it Professor Catitude? Smallwood? Buttz? Or…”
“Before you use up all your wit, and my spanking hand, in one go,” D’Angelo says, dryly, “you’ll simply call us all professor.”
He stops all my bratting fun.
“Yes, professor.”
“I have an idea.” Eden’s eyes glint. Shit, I shouldn’t have mocked the squirrel. “He needs to be taught a lesson.”
“Traitor,” I hiss.
Eden’s stormy eyes only darken. “I gave him detention twice today. Don’t go easy on him.”
I definitely shouldn’t have mocked cats either.
Eden picks up one end of the piano stool, and Robyn helps him to shuffle the other side into the middle of the lounge.
Anticipation buzzes under my skin. What are they planning?
D’Angelo’s expression becomes dominant. “Excellent.”
He steers me by a hand at the back of my neck toward the stool.
Robyn shoots me a smile, before kissing me. Then she drops to her knees, unbuttons my jeans and drags them to my ankles along with my boxers.
“Professor, this is so sudden,” I gasp, playfully.
Robyn pulls my jeans and boxers entirely off with a waggle of her eyebrows, before leaning to lick a stripe up my cock that’s already at half-mast.
I shiver, swallowing when she fondles my balls with one hand and suckles at the head of my dick.
“Take what’s coming to you.” D’Angelo reaches up to tug on my hair, and I whine. “You deserve this punishment. You earned it.”
“I agree,” I pant, as Robyn runs her tongue along the sensitive underside of my cock, which feels like bloody heaven. “I f-f-fucking did.”
I can definitely get behind that.
Then D’Angelo pulls something out of his pants’ pocket and tosses it to Robyn.
A condom.
That’s D’Angelo, always prepared.
Robyn fumbles her catch with an awkward shrug. Then she opens the packet and rolls the condom onto my cock.
I watch her with blown wide pupils, as she pushes herself up from her knees. “Now you’re dressed appropriately, Shay.”
Eden stalks to stand behind Robyn. He wraps his arms around her waist, and they whisper to each other.
They’re close and intimate. They have been since Friday night. They’ve barely been apart, except for Saturday night, when I was lucky enough to get her to myself.
Now, we’re going to be together in a group. It feels so fucking right that my blood sings and my bones ache.
D’Angelo shoves me toward the stool. “Lie over it on your back. Spread your legs. Don’t talk. Don’t move. Your bratty mouth has said more than enough. You’re going to do something useful with it by bringing me pleasure.”
Except, doing that will bring me pleasure.
D’Angelo knows that.
He still waits, giving me time to safe word.
I don’t.
Instead, I smile as I lie on the piano stool. Caught between the man and woman who I love is exactly where I want to be.
Robyn is kissing Eden. She slips her hand inside his joggers. She’s moaning as she wanks him.
My cock is already hard and curving onto my stomach.
D’Angelo drags me so that my head hangs off one end of the piano stool.
He’s still dressed — I’m the only one who’s half undressed — but he undoes his trousers and pulls out his cock, which is already hard.
It also looks much larger from this angle.
I’ve never sucked a cock like this before.
The first time, Robyn was helping and guiding me.
My gaze becomes steely. I want to be able to do this.
The thought’s making me as hard as knowing that Robyn is going to ride me at the same time.
D’Angelo leans down and grips my cheeks. He presses for me to open my mouth. Then he’s pushing his cock in, slow, steady, but unrelenting.
I choke, but he doesn’t let up.
Eden is panting. His breath is ragged like he’s close to coming.
Somone’s kissing above me.
I’m like an object, however, being fucked in my mouth, held by my hair. I can barely breathe, but the taste and feel of D’Angelo, while Robyn’s small hands pluck at my nipples and caress my stomach, is enough to make my mind feel like it’s filled with cotton wool.
Suddenly, a wet, tight heat sheathes my cock.
It’s perfect.
Robyn begins to ride me, hard.
My cock is her toy.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Robyn gasps.
“Language, professor,” Eden chides.
D’Angelo huffs a laugh. “Careful, or he’ll be giving you detention, principessa.”
How is D’Angelo not even out of breath? He’s fucking my mouth in long, controlled thrusts.
My throat and cock are being used. It’s overwhelming.
Spread your legs. Don’t talk. Don’t move.
As pleasure winds through me, and I can hear it winding through my brother, D’Angelo, and Robyn in the changes in their breathing, gasps, and moans, I feel calmer and more settled than I have since I came to America.
It doesn’t matter whether I come.
What matters is that I’m caught here in the middle of a group of people who are taking pleasure from my body.
Who I love and who love me.
And that’s the most beautiful music of all.