He grips my ass, hauling me impossibly closer. “I’m so glad to hear it, because your pussy is a fucking wet dream.” With a hard thrust, he adds, “And every time I mention her name, it squeezes my cock like a fucking fist.”
I close my eyes, ashamed that what he’s saying is right. It’s true.What the fuck is the matter with me?I have no answer I can give him or myself, so instead, I focus on his face. That serious and focused expression looks so fierce as he moves above me and inside of me, stealing something integral from my being with every delicious stroke.
“I think you’re the one getting confused with who’s here,” he explains. “Because I know exactly who I’m inside of.”
Reaching up, he pinches my nipple, and I shout so loudly that I know my voice will be hoarse the next morning.
“Oh, yes, Gemma, shout for me,” he mutters as he leans down, biting the curve of my shoulder and neck as he fucks into me like he’s never going to stop.
I grip his ass in my hands and push myself up to meet each of his tortuous thrusts. Right when I think it’s impossible for my body to hit a second climax, his orgasm slams into me, bathing me in a warmth that is so intoxicating I feel myself fly with him to a second splintering climax.
Several minutes later, I find myself lying in silence on a blanket, the sun shining through the trees. I’m struck with the realization that I’m holding on to a man who, for now, is holding on to me but has still not let go ofher.
Eight
IMPULSIVE
“HAVE YOU EVER heard Pachelbel’s Canon in D played live with a full orchestra?” Phillipe asks me later that night as we walk into the studio.
“No, I haven’t heard any orchestral pieces live. Isn’t that one of the songs people play for the wedding march?”
Looking at me over his shoulder, he moves toward the stereo system on the shelves. He tells me with the barest hint of humor, “I don’t know, Gemma. I’ve never walked down an aisle.”
I shake my head at him with a smirk. “You know what I mean.”
“Well, when put that way, then yes, I suppose it is the song that a lot of brides walk down the aisle to.”
After pressing a button, he turns back to make his way toward me as the deep bass starts. I keep my eyes locked with his as he crosses the space to stop before me, holding out his hand like a gentleman from a forgotten era. Curious about his mood, I go with it.
I slide my hand into the palm that so expertly touched me this afternoon, and I gasp when he tugs me in close to assume the waltz position. Looking up into his blazing green eyes, I haveto admit that I can quite easily understand Chantel’s quick fall into love, although she would never have seen those eyes.
Before I have too long to consider that, he slowly starts to waltz me around his studio. Holding on tight, I can’t help but smile. It feels wonderful to have a moment of such simplicity when things here have been so intense and so confusing. This feels simple.
Two people dancing. Two people enjoying a moment. Until that moment is gone.
“This piece was originally scored for three violins and a basso continuo. Listen…” He pauses in his explanation as he moves me effortlessly around his studio.
My mind spins with each expertly executed turn.
“All three instruments work together in breathtaking synchronicity, Gemma. The fourth is there just to keep them in order because three of anything is bound to get messy.”
I can feel my breath picking up as his meaning takes root, and I’m left wondering,What is he getting at? He’s always playing such head games with me.
Twirling me away from him, I stare at our joined hands then bring up my eyes to meet his, which are now focused on me with absolute intensity. He tugs me back to him, and I go because the music is still floating through the air. It seems this waltz isn’t over, not by a long shot.
“They feed off one another,” he tells me as he brushes a kiss against my head. “They’re each so flawless in their transitions that you start to believe they’re all one and the same.”
He stops talking as the music swells, and I close my eyes as I’m pulled under. I’m swept away by the beauty of the piece and again by the seduction that is Phillipe. His arms, strong and solid, wrap around me as I allow myself to really let go. I feel as though he’s given me permission in some way, like he’s telling me that what I’m feeling is okay—even when I know that it’s not.
How can I be so fascinated with him and at the same time so captivated by her?
This is a question I have no answer for as the music softens and his lips move to my ear.
“That’s right, Gemma. Close your eyes. To really feel the music, you have to listen…blindly.”
That’s when it hits me. The complete picture unfolds. The moment of joy he’s feeling plus the confusion I’m experiencing all mixes together to equal the total mindfuck I’m having.
“This isherplaying, isn’t it?” I ask, stiffening in his arms.
