Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
Tom
I’ve learned there are two ways to exist in a crowd: be the spectacle, or be the atmosphere. I’ve done the first all my life. Today, I’m trying the second.
I keep the melody slow and the tone soft, letting the bow glide over the strings of my Stradivarius.
I’m learning how to fit in without making it a performance.
Don’t get me wrong, the stage is addictive. It’s a drug. But the background feels… calm.
There are no expectations. No thousands of eyes following the drop of sweat falling from my face. No blinding lights. No screaming.
My lips form a smile.
Nah. Forget that shit. I live for the screaming.
But today, I just want to make something lovely. Something people can enjoy while they eat breakfast and pretend their lives are simple.
I play with my eyes closed. It makes it easier to listen, easier to stay inside the sound instead of my own head.
It isn’t really a song. It’s whatever comes to me in the moment.
I’m going for a Victorian tea party vibe. Dukes and duchesses.
Daffodils blooming on the tables like the cold dark winter never happened. Tea being topped up while gossip goes around.
Lace fans. Hand-painted china. A peacock screaming in the garden.
Definitely the peacock. I love those ridiculous animals.
And me? I’m the poor court musician, madly in love with Arcadia’s royalty, hiding in plain sight.
When I lift the bow from the strings, there’s a moment of silence. Then the applause comes.
My eyes go straight to the long table filled with nobles. Everyone’s clapping, except my man.
Arms crossed, he looks at me like he’s the only one who understands what’s underneath the music. I want him to. I want him to see what no one else in the crowd is allowed to see.
And there’s a shimmer in his irises. I catch the subtle movement of his jaw, the bob of his throat. A small smile, just for me. Then he joins the applause.
I lower the violin and offer a humble bow.
Erin walks over with a smile that gives me the chills.
“That was beautiful, Tom. I didn’t know you played with that much emotion.”
She tucks her sunglasses into her hair.
“Neither did I. Apparently, insomnia’s good for something.”
The corner of her mouth lifts as she gestures to the empty seat. “Mind if I join?”
“Be my guest.”
Her eyes flick to the croissant I haven’t touched, then back to me. Very Emily.
“Thought you’d be gone by now. You sounded pretty convinced the other day, and now look at you. Going all Chopin.”
“Chopin was a pianist. Any other name-drop from the mainstream composer club would’ve made more sense. Roulette’s not your game, Erin.”
Her lips twitch.
Yosh joins us without a word.
No hello, no good morning. He feels the tension and leaves it alone.
“Did we do something wrong on our end?” Erin asks.
“If so, you can tell me, Tom,” Yosh adds, all mindful and shit.
My skin prickles. I keep smiling as I kick his shin under the table.
He stiffens for half a second. Good.
“No, nothing like that. Just some things I need to think through. Clear my head, you know?”
“I understand,” Erin says. “Take the weekend. Distract yourself. I won’t be here Monday, but maybe I’ll see you Sunday at SeaBreeze?”
I glance at Yosh. How does she know?
Erin places her hand on my arm. “SeaBreeze is my husband’s beach club. Calvin hosts his monthly parties with us.”
“Oh.” I keep my tone flat. “Didn’t know that.”
“That’s how Calvin and I know each other. He and my husband go way back.”
She pushes her chair back. “Yosh? You ready? Meeting starts in five.”
He nods, waits until she’s a few steps ahead, then leans in close to my ear.
“Beach. Noon. Bring your things.” A pause. “Avoid my ex.”
We’re standing in front of what’s quickly becoming my favorite house on the island.
Not much has changed, maybe a few new cracks in the stucco.
A section of fence is finally surrendering, or has it always been like that?
Hard to tell. At least the tree in the yard looks happier than it did last weekend.
I never asked how his meeting with the contractor went. They probably bailed the second they saw the place. Or started calculating their Christmas bonus before they even hit the porch.
Either way, I’ll ask later.
Right now, there are other priorities.
Yosh fumbles with the lock.
I grab his wrist.
He starts to say something, but I yank him close before he can, my mouth finds his. We kiss, open-mouthed and hungry.
We collide.
We chase.
He melts, and I take everything I can.
The keys jingle uselessly to the floor as we crash through the door of Villa Crumble Aparté.
We twist and stumble. A box tips over. A plank of wood gets in the way. I kick a paint can aside , steering him through the chaos of the living room.
All fire and feral, my hands map familiar places.
His hips. The dimples on his back.
That perfectly shaped ass where I’m planning to sink my teeth in later.
He laughs into my mouth, and I steal the sound with another kiss.
I love how we devour each other. It’s hard and greedy, all heat and friction.
I show him dominance, and he gives me something I thought only existed in my writing.
We hit the bedroom and I slam the door shut with my shoulder, spinning him and pinning him there before he can say a word. I can feel the rapid beat of his heart thundering against my chest.
His hands go straight into my hair, mine go to the waistband of his corduroy shorts. I drag him in until there’s nowhere left for him to breathe but against me.
That’s when he thrusts forward, grinding his thickening cock against mine like he wants to see what happens when he provokes me a little.
And my body is a traitor. My cock pulses for him, hard and stupid and eager.
Fuck. That wasn’t in the playbook.
Let’s make a new one.
“Take off your shirt.”
“Dominant much, McKenna?”
“Do as I say.”
He obeys. The linen polo lifts over his head and drops to the floor. I get a full view of him: Hard lines and sun-kissed skin, his chest rising unevenly. It makes something possessive flare beneath my ribs.
“Bed,” I command.
Not please. Not can you. Just that one word.
He crawls back onto the bed, elbows propped, legs slightly apart, eyes locked on me, daring me to continue.
And I climb after him, letting him feel my stone-hard cock in between his legs as I straddle his thighs and press him into the mattress.
“You’ve been thinking about this all week, haven’t you?”
I tug my shirt over my head and toss it aside, then start working the cord of his shorts.
He stays quiet, and quiet means yes.
“I did. Thought about the way you sounded when you came for me. The way you went soft in my arms when I tongue-fucked you in that pool.”
His hips lift, helping me shove the shorts down until he’s naked beneath me, flushed, cock heavy and aching for my mouth.
“Fuck, Tom. You have no idea.”
“I do, love.” I drag my mouth over his ear, teeth scraping lightly before I soothe it with my tongue. “All that tension. All week. Trying not to lose your mind.”
I kiss my way down his neck at a cruel pace. Halfway down, he starts pushing up into me, hunting for any scrap of friction he can get. It satisfies my petty need to watch him come apart on my terms.
“Tell me how you like it,” I say, voice rough. “This is kind of new territory for me.”
He grabs the back of my neck, pulling me down until we’re a breath apart. He jabs a finger in front of my nose.
“I swear Tom, If you don’t–”
I smother his words with a hot, reckless kiss, then deny him by pulling away.
“Watch me, gorgeous.”
I slide down between his legs.
My mouth finds the inside of his thigh, biting, licking, teasing and tasting until he starts to shake under me.
I look up as I drag my tongue from his taint to the base of his cock, making sure those burning brown eyes catch every sinful second of it.
“New territory?” His chest heaves. “Fucking liar.”
“Am I meeting your expectations?”
“God, yes. Keep going.”
I catch his chin and make him look at me.
“Keep telling me how good you feel, and I swear, I’ll do anything for you.”
“You’re dangerous, McKenna.”
“You like dangerous, because you are dangerous.” My thumb drags over his lower lip. “I see past the pretending, beautiful. You’re just as fucked up as me.”
His eyes glint in the golden-hour light.
I think I’ve gone somewhere I wasn’t invited. The truth of him flashes up clear.
There you are. Whoever you pretend to be.
I lower my lashes, taking in every inch he’s offering me. My lips part and I take him deep, feeling the stretch as he fills my throat.
My hand works slow, my mouth fast, greedy and wet, humming filthy noises as I swallow him whole.
Warm, salty precum leaks onto my tongue. Little whimpers slip out of him as I tease the sensitive ridge of his head.
“Fuck, Sapph—”
His fingers twist in my hair, holding me in place, as he fucks my mouth with thrusts that grow rough, desperate, and out of sync.
Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t slow down. I give him everything.
And he’s close. I can tell by the way he’s praising me to the fucking heavens, by the way his body coils beneath me like the snake tattoo on his back. I tighten up, tongue working harder until he’s right on the edge.
I don’t let him fall. I hold him in that sweet, shaking second until his whole body turns taut with it.
“Ah, fuck, Sapph. Fuckfuck, I’m coming.”
In the span of a heartbeat, he does, spilling hot and fast, straight down my throat.
I try to swallow.
I don’t know how.
Too late. Fuck.
My throat spasms. Reflex yanks me back and I cough hard, gagging, eyes watering as I try to suck in air.
Yosh shoots up, hauling me by the shoulders, one hand flat on my chest, the other slamming between my shoulder blades.
“Breathe,” he says urgently. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”
I cough again, wet, and ugly, like back home, when smoking a fresh batch of weed.
I finally get a real breath in, oxygen flowing freely into my lungs.
My body’s still shaking.