Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I get lost in movements, and then, in turn, I get lost in the music.
I forget about my fears. I forget I’m playing in front of someone. And as the music hits the crescendo, I, too, fall over the edge. The music swells inside me, pouring out of me, throwing me into the throes of my orgasm.
Once my heart returns to a normal beat, I set down my bow and turn to face him, panting slightly from exertion. He watches me closely, a predator zeroing in on its prey. “You were incredible,” he growls, pulling me into his arms and crashing his lips onto mine. “Good girl.”
I will never tire of hearing those words.
32
GIDEON
She’s incredible.
Never have I heard anything so magnificent in my life.
The sound of Sasha coming at such a pivotal and powerful moment in her music almost brought me to my knees.
Now, I stand here, hard as a rock, as she tries to regulate her breathing, and instead of wanting to leave like I normally would, I want to bask in her glow forever.
When did I become this man? The kind that wishes to worship at a woman’s feet. A man so entranced that nothing else matters.
The second you saw her.
The moment your obsession took over your every waking thought.
If she has any misconceived notions that she’ll ever get away from me, she better think twice. She might have had a shot before I felt the way she quivered around my fingers…maybe. Now that I’ve had a taste? Nope. Never.
I’ve had her essence lingering on my lips and crave more. Need more. I’ll never be done with her.
Still in my arms, Sasha quivers with the last of the aftereffects of her orgasm. Holding her tightly to me, I place my mouth on her pulse point. When the beat of her heart calms to a normal cadence, I slowly let her go.
For a second, Sasha sits perfectly still. Is she okay? Is she going to freak out on me?
Whatever the case, she better not regret it.
But then she turns to look over her shoulder, and I’m met with rosy, red cheeks and a sated, hazy gaze in her eyes.
What I don’t see is any remorse for what she just allowed me to do. No anger or resentment.
Which is good because I’ll be doing it again real soon. Not just because the sweet melody she makes while playing would be criminal not to hear again, but because she deserves to one day play at Juilliard, and if riding my hand is what gets her over her fear of playing, I’m a willing servant.
I’ll do anything to feel her again.
I don’t care if she uses me. I’m hers to use.
She’s never leaving me, and that’s a fact she’ll learn soon enough.
Now, I need to fuck her into submission until I’m able to hammer in that point. Then, when it’s safe for her to leave, she won’t.
It’s a solid plan.
Sasha will resist.
I’ll have to get her on board.
Her body shuffling as she places her cello back in the case pulls me out of my wayward thoughts.
Moving back, I give her space. Allowing her to do her thing and watching her every move like the stalker I’ve become. There’s something so calming about the process. About this moment here, with her.
Once the cello case is closed, I reach my hand out and thread our fingers together. “Leave the cello,” I say, needing to be close to her.
“What do you mean, leave the cello?” Her eyes are wide. It’s as if I told her to break the thing.
“One of my men will grab it.” I head toward the door, hoping she’ll follow.
She doesn’t.
I turn around, lifting a brow to signal, what’s the problem?
“Your men…” she mumbles.
I narrow my eyes and take her in; the confident woman from moments ago has receded back into the girl who was too afraid to play in public. What’s going on with her? “What’s the problem, firefly?”
She looks around the stage, her gaze lingering over the empty chairs in the audience before looking back to where I’m standing. “Were—were they here the whole time?” Her stuttering has me stopping up short.
“You mean, were they here while you were riding my hand and playing the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard?”
Her eyes go wide, and her cute as fuck mouth drops open.
“Yes.” She gulps. “Were they?”
I take a step toward her, place my finger under her chin, and tilt her head up. Leaning down, I place my lips on hers, licking the seam. Then I pull away and meet her gaze. “Yes, they were. But they didn’t hear you. They were under strict instructions, and my men obey their orders.”
She swallows again, but this time it looks like she believes me, and she should. I would never let my men hear my girl, let alone see her.