“So smart,” he whispers, placing a kiss behind my ear.
As we continue the song, my mind races. Roman guides my fingers so we never miss a note. They wind through the space around us, somehow saying things I don’t feel like I can convey with words alone.
Anticipating the end of the song, dread fills me. I’m not ready for the touch to be over. I don’t want to stop feeling him this close to me. It’s intimate in a way that I haven’t experienced with him yet. Just before the last notes of the song ring out, Roman moves us toward some keys that don’t make sense to me. Slowly he works our hands into a new melody. It’s soft and beautiful, and it’s not something I recognize. There’s a touch of melancholy to it, and something about it brings tears to my eyes.
“What is this?” I whisper, suspicion taking hold in my gut.
For a mouthy guy, Roman’s being awfully quiet right now. Instead of answering, his head drops to the crook of my neck, where he gently places a kiss that sends sparks exploding across myskin.
“Roman... did you compose this?” I breathe out so quietly I’m not sure he can hear.
He’s silent again, save for the kisses he dots along my neck and collarbone. Eventually, he gives a small nod of confirmation.
Thousands of questions race through my mind. “When?”
“A little while ago,” he murmurs from behind my ear, placing another soft kiss there.
My pulse raises.
“What’s it called?”
He pauses for a few seconds. “It doesn’t have a name yet.” For some stupid, illogical reason, disappointment floods my system. Of course, it’s not like he wrote this song for–
“Whatever it’s called, it’s yours,” he answers simply, as if those words didn’t crack my chest open. My heart stutters, and I turn my head as much as I can toward him. His cool blue eyes bore into mine, and there’s a sincerity in there that I haven’t seen yet, at least not in the light of day.
Slowly swinging my legs over the piano bench, I turn so that I’m facing him. He places his hands on either side of me, effectively caging me in. I gingerly raise my hands to cup his face, and when I make contact, he closes his eyes, sighing as though the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.
“I don’t understand,” I admit.
His eyes snap open in question.
“I thought... you didn’t like me for the longest time.”
“You’re right,” he says, dropping to his knees while maintaining eye contact with me. “I didn’t.” The hands that were on the sides of my hips begin to move inward, his fingers touching the fabric at the top of my sleep shorts. He pulls the fabric down, and I wiggle to help him do so. “I didn’t like you at first because you called me on my shit,” he says with a grin as he looks up atme.
“Someone’s got to do it…” I tease.
“I was so fucking wrong.” His hands land on my ass cheeks and he pulls me forward so that I’m mere inches away from his mouth.
Now, with him here, it’s hard to believe I ever felt self conscious about him doing this. About sharing this part of myself with him. It’s so obvious to me that we make sense. He sees me as I am. I’m safe with him.
“You’re smart.” He licks my pussy, and I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep quiet. “You’re strong.” He places an open-mouthed kiss right on top of my clit, and I swear I lose the ability to think coherent thoughts. “You’re fucking stunning.” He sucks it and a sinks a finger inside me. “You make me want to be better.” He buries his face in my pussy before pulling away with a smile once more. “And you taste fucking delicious.”
His fingers curl up inside me and push a spot that makes me see stars. In time with the movements of his tongue, it leaves me writhing on the piano bench. I’m having a hard time staying upright with all these sensations.
“Lean back,” he instructs.
“But the keys...”
“Be a good girl. Lean back and make a mess on my face.”
He pushes me so that I’m leaning on the keys. Of course they make noise, but we’re past the point of caring. His fingers work me, and I feel myself ready to shatter.
“That’s it,” Roman coaches. “Come for me.” He gives me no other choice when he swirls his tongue over my clit once more.
Gasping as the waves of pleasure wash over me, I pull at his hair, guiding his face as I ride through the orgasm.
When it finally winds down, he pulls away from me and stands. On legs as weak as a baby deer’s, I close the distance between us and pull his face to mine.
