7. Axel #2
Victory surges through me. Another barrier falling. Another piece of her surrendering to me.
She moves to the piano with a grace that surprises me, settling on the bench like she belongs there. Her fingers hover over the keys for a moment, a brief hesitation before she takes a deep breath and begins to play.
Holy fuck.
The melody that fills the room is nothing like I expected. Not classical, not pop, but something hauntingly original.
Her fingers move with confidence and precision, drawing sounds from the instrument that make the air around us vibrate with emotion. There’s a melancholy to the piece, but also something hopeful, something that rises and builds until my chest feels too tight to contain what’s happening inside me.
I move closer, transfixed by the transformation.
This is a different Sami than the one who serves drinks at The Summit or curls against me in bed at night. This Sami is pure power, pure talent, lost in a world of her own creation.
And she’s fucking magnificent.
Pride surges through me, possessive and fierce. This remarkable, gifted woman is mine. This talent, this passion, this raw creative force. No one else gets to see her like this, vulnerable and powerful at the same time. Just me.
The music swells, her body swaying slightly with the intensity of it. I can almost see the scenes she’s scoring in her mind—the emotional arcs, the visual cues. She wasn’t lying about her dreams. She has the talent to make them real. And I have the connections to make it happen.
Lane is going to lose his mind when he hears her play.
The piece builds to a crescendo and Sami’s fingers dance across the keys with increasing intensity until it resolves in a series of gentle notes that seem to linger in the air even after she lifts her hands.
For a moment, neither of us moves or speaks.
I struggle to find words adequate for what I just witnessed. “Jesus, Sami. That was incredible.”
She turns on the bench to face me, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. There’s something vulnerable in her expression, like she’s just shown me a piece of her soul and isn’t sure how I’ll respond.
“It’s not finished yet.” Her voice is soft and uncertain. “I’ve been working on it for months. It’s supposed to be for a scene where the main character realizes they’ve found their home after being lost for years.”
The symbolism isn’t lost on me.
I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up to mine. “Play for me whenever you want. This piano is yours now. This house is yours. Everything I have is yours.”
Her eyes darken at my words, pupils dilating with the same need I feel coursing through my veins. She rises from the bench, pressing her body against mine, and I groan at the contact.
“Thank you for listening.” She slides her hands up my chest, rising on her toes to brush her lips against mine. “For understanding what it means to me.”
I deepen the kiss, one hand tangling in her hair to hold her steady as I devour her mouth. She tastes like wine and desire and surrender. My free hand slides down her back to pull her hips flush against mine, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.
Then I growl against her mouth.
“You feel that, Kitten? You see how hard you make me just by existing? By just being you?”
Her breath catches, and I can feel her heart pounding against my chest. I lift her easily, setting her on top of the piano, and step between her thighs. My hands slide under her shirt, finding warm skin that quivers beneath my touch.
“I want you right here,” I tell her. “On top of your piano.”
“Your piano,” she corrects, but her hands are already working at my belt.
“Our piano,” I insist, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it aside. “Just like it’s our house.”
The sight of her in just her bra, perched on the gleaming black surface of the Steinway, nearly breaks my control. Mine. This talented, beautiful woman is mine.
I make quick work of her jeans, dragging them down her legs along with her panties. She’s already wet for me, already needy, and the knowledge sends a surge of possessive satisfaction through me.
“Look at you,” I murmur, running my hands up her thighs. “I love that your pussy gets so wet for me.”
“Axel, please,” she whispers, reaching for me.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I growl, dropping to my knees in front of her. “Every inch of you is mine to taste, mine to pleasure.”
Her hands grip the edge of the piano as I spread her thighs wider. I press my face between her legs, inhaling deeply, savoring her scent.
“I’m going to make you come on this piano,” I tell her. “Going to lick your sweet pussy until you’re screaming my name.”
She whimpers, her head falling back as I drag my tongue through her folds. The taste of her explodes on my tongue. Sweet, tangy and addictive. I growl against her, the vibration making her gasp.
“You taste so fucking good,” I mutter against her slick flesh. “Better than anything I’ve ever had.”
I devour her like a starving man, alternating between long, rough strokes and focused attention on her clit. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head, her soft moans turning to desperate cries.
“That’s it, Kitten,” I encourage, sliding two fingers inside her while my tongue works her clit. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
Her hips buck against my face, seeking more pressure, more friction. I give her what she needs, curling my fingers to find that spot inside her that makes her see stars.
“Axel,” she gasps, one hand tangling in my hair. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Axel, please.”
“Please what?” I demand, pulling back just enough to see her face. “Tell me what you need.”
“Don’t stop,” she begs, her eyes wild with need. “Please don’t stop.”
I dive back in, relentless now, my tongue flicking rapidly over her clit while my fingers pump inside her. Her walls clench around me, her body tensing as she approaches the edge.
“Come for me,” I command against her flesh. “Come on my tongue, Kitten. Show me who you belong to.”
She shatters with a cry, her body convulsing as pleasure rips through her. I keep licking, slower now, gentler, helping her ride out the waves of her orgasm until she’s trembling and oversensitive.
When I finally pull back, her face is flushed, her chest heaving with each breath. I rise to my feet, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Let’s go to bed now,” I growl. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.”