Chapter Sixteen Interlude
I am not supposed to do this.
Curl up in Andrea’s bed, head on her lap, Chopin purring and pawing me, meowing and circling me endlessly as I cry.
I don’t want to kill my brother. I have never killed anyone. If I do, I’ll lose my ability to walk in the sun. To be Andrea’s good man. A husband. A father.
But if he’s wicked, and evil, and killing humans—what choice do I have? I can’t ask anyone else to do this and dirty their souls. It can change a monster into the thing that humans have a right to fear. But if he’s evil, and I kill evil, doesn’t that make me good? Still worthy?
I don’t know, and that makes me cry, too.
Andrea strokes my hair and doesn’t seem to care that a big, strong troll is acting like a bawling, sniveling baby. I cried once in front of my mother—and never did it again. I nearly lost an eye from that beating.
Her voice is soft, and her hands are gentle.
“What if it’s good? What if it’s a good thing?
Your brother following in your footsteps?
I bet he was coming to find you, but he got attacked by a succubus and scared off.
He’s probably still nearby. We can take the truck out and find him as soon as Alban calls. ”
“I don’t... I don’t know. Once I find him... You most certainly cannot come with me to look for him. He could be dangerous.” And he could have my other brothers with him. My mother. Why would they do that?
A tiny part of me hopes for a miracle. I try to think of good reasons. They’ve all changed their ways. They want to live a new, peaceful, happy life. They’ve come to me to show them the way.
I don’t think God would give me two miracles in the space of one month—not a beautiful new family and an old, redeemed family. I hug my arms around her waist, burying my face in her hip. “I’m doing that thing. People say it.”
“Sweetie, I need more than that,” Andrea whispers, fingers threading steadily through my hair, gently tracing my jaw.
She still calls me sweetie. Honey. Babe. She’s nothing but love and energy, my Andrea. “All my thoughts are circling. One minute, they’re positive, the next, terrible. I can’t turn them off.”
“Spiraling?”
“That’s it.”
“Okay. Time to stop the spiral. You can’t just keep thinking in a circle. You’re torturing yourself. So... It’s time for a piano lesson.”
“Oh, Andrea. My love, I don’t think—”
“I think. I know. Music heals. It distracts.”
Gordon’s hands rest alongside mine. The only way we both fit on the piano bench is if I sit in his lap, and that was part of my distraction plan. “We’re going to use the Basics for Older Beginners book. It moves quickly, which is good because you’re so smart.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. You know that, don’t you?”
Gordon snorts, and I pinch his thigh. “You are so smart, Gordon. You learn incredibly fast, and that’s a gift that a lot of people lose as adults.
Some never even had it to begin with.” I caress his hands and move them into position.
“Let’s look at the staff and learn the lines, first. Then, the spaces. ”
Gordon hums happily under his breath when we make music together.
The humming turns to a low groan of relief when I slide back between his thighs, butt wriggling more firmly against his crotch.
“E-G-B-D-F.” I show him the notes on the keys corresponding to the notes on the paper. “Every good boy does fine.”
“What?”
“That’s the way you remember the notes. A mnemonic device, a brain trick.
Every good boy does fine. Or every good boy deserves fudge.
Or...” I hesitate, then fall headlong into the role of seductress and distractor extraordinaire.
“Every Gordon bangs delicious Filipinas. Well, one. Well, part-Filipina. For the sake of the acronym it works.”
“Andrea!”
“No? How about, ‘Every Good Boyfriend Deserves Fucking?”
“I can’t think straight if you say things like that!” Gordon gasps, shocked laughter bubbling from his broad chest.
“I don’t want you to think straight. I want you to think dirty,” I tease. “Play the Five Finger Exercise on the next page, and I might let you finger something else.”
“But... The keyboard would get messy if we do that during my lesson.”
“You’re right. Maybe we’d better do some practice on the keys, and then move this to the bedroom. I think I have a real test of your memorization skills, Gordon, so you’d better concentrate on the teacher and what she’s saying,” I purr. “There’s a quiz after your lesson.”
Andrea stares at me sternly from the edge of the bed. “Spaces?”
“F, A, C, E,” I breathe out.
Andrea drops four pieces of clothing: skirt, thong, bra, and top.
“Lines?”
“E, G, B, D, F.”
“Good boy, indeed. And what does that deserve?”
“Fucking,” I gulp as she unzips my pants and drops to her knees.
“How many notes are in an octave?”
“Eight.”
“Good! You’re such a fast learner.” Andrea looks up at me, opens her mouth, and sighs as she wraps her mouth over my cock’s leaking tip. “Mmm. You count to eight for me, please.”
By some miracle, I count out eight long, glorious sucks, taking a long time between numbers as Andrea’s mouth continues to work its magic, slowly sliding down until my crown touches the back of her throat.
“Can we do this?” I ask.
“Not if you were my actual student,” Andrea giggles and sits up higher on her knees so that my cock is sandwiched between her small, perfect breasts.
“This is only for very special students, as in one very special student. Only a boyfriend or husband of mine is ever going to get this sort of coaching.”
“I meant, are we allowed to do this because everything is so bad and scary right now inside my head,” I confess.
Andrea looks up at me, and instead of pulling away, she grips my knees and pulls closer, kissing the top of my cock as it slides up and down between her breasts, her hands kneading my skin wherever they can reach.
“I don’t know all the rules of being a couple,” she confesses.
“I don’t know all the rules of being in love.
But I know we have a choice between sitting and wallowing in sadness and all the bad possibilities, or supporting each other however we can.
Right now, the best way I know to support my awesome boyfriend is to give him love and comfort, and to absolutely blow his mind.
If I help him remember some of the new piano skills that he learned, I’m also okay with that. ”
My girlfriend is brilliant. My lover. My mate. Bride.
“Okay. Now say the C scale for me.” Andrea runs her talented tongue across the slit, a wicked smile on her face.
“C...”
A long, luxurious lick.
“D.”
And another.
For a while, I forget everything but Andrea’s mouth, and the sight of her tight brown nipples under my teasing thumbs, everything except how she looks straddling my lap, feeding my cock slowly into her pink pussy while my breathing speeds up to match the wild pace of her hips.
“God, you’re amazing,” I rasp.
“And don’t you forget it,” Andrea moans before she unravels on me, coating me with her juice, engulfing me deeper than ever.
I stare at the sight of her, head crashing down to my chest, her arms clinging to me. I cling to her, my much larger, stronger hand, a hand that could crush her bones, cradling her head over my heart. “I will always, always remember this, my Andrea.”