He gently untied her gown, loosening the laces, parting the fabric and baring her back. The fastener at the edge of her bodice was no impediment and within a few minutes he found himself admiring the flawless perfection of her skin from nape to tailbone.
A smattering of freckles here and there fascinated him, and he ran a teasing finger down the entire length of her, almost daring her to keep playing.
He saw her ribcage expand with her breaths as he leaned forward, pursing his lips and blowing against the creamy expanse of silk.
Muscles tensed and relaxed, her shoulders moved as she played, and Perry knew that if he were standing at the far end of the piano she would probably appear completely composed.
But she wasn’t. He could detect the scent of her, the heat from her skin, the pulse throbbing at the base of her neck. Her music was soft, gentle, yet alluring. He didn’t recognise the melodies, but could not fail to appreciate their exquisite and overwhelming beauty.
It might have been a new sonata—he had no clue. So he leaned close, letting his waistcoat buttons rub against her bare back. “What is this piece? I cannot recall it, but it is magnificent…”
She swallowed, her throat convulsing as she kept playing. “I don’t know. I’m just allowing the music to come to me…”
Stunned, Perry gulped down his amazement. “My God, woman. You’re…you’re composing this right now?”
She nodded. “Your touch. It’s you Perry. You and me. When you touch me…I play the music I hear…”
The words were whispered low and he would not have heard them had he been any further away.
“You are a miracle of unexpected delights, Grace.” He leaned back. “Please don’t stop…”
And he slid his hands beneath the fabric of her gown, skimming them around in front of her to cup her breasts.
She paused, silence filling the room as a shiver crossed her body.
“Keep playing…and let your fingers tell me if you like this…”
He felt a shudder this time as he squeezed the full globes, but the music began again, a ripple of chords, point and counterpoint, edgy yet sensual.
Just like her.
He found her nipples with thumbs and forefingers, rolling them gently and daring to pinch them as he did so. She moaned, and the melody turned to a lower key, the notes painting a picture of something intense and exotic. The rhythm became that of a heartbeat, the chords dying down to a simple tune that tore his heart from his body.
“Perry,” she groaned as he lifted her breasts. “Oh Perry.”
She missed a note as he squeezed again, teasing her nipples with a fingernail. Then she caught herself and continued.
Perry grinned. This was the best musicale he’d ever attended. And there was more to come. He slid one hand down, down to her lap, wiggling it between her legs.
A sharp chord shattered the air around them, and she shifted on the stool for a moment, her thighs parting to accommodate his touch.
It was an invitation he couldn’t refuse. He found her, hot and wet, silky folds ready to be parted. He delved deep.
She played as if her life depended on it, fingers racing, body rocking, the triumphant chords echoing around them as he conducted her private orchestra—the tiny bud between her thighs.
She gasped, shuddered, her muscles tightening, her music losing pace, the notes now misplayed, a cacophony that faded into nothing as she leaned back against him, took her hands off the keys and grabbed for his head.
“Perry…”
Her cry of completion was the most beautiful symphony he had ever heard.
He held her close as she rode out her release, and gentled her as she recovered. “Come to bed with me, Grace. Now. Tonight.”
Her head rested on his shoulder and her eyes were closed. He watched as she parted her lips and took a deep breath, then raised her eyelids and turned to him with a sensual smile that arrowed through him, straight to his cock.
“Yes.”
