Symphony In Rapture (15 page)

“Walk in front of me,” he said.

Michelle did as he asked, sultry sensations invading her crotch as she pictured his eyes devouring her naked form.

Nick reveled in the sight of her sumptuous curves, the luminescent orbs of her buttocks oscillating against one another with each step, sending hot pulses of desire through his loins. At the door, Nick held up his key. He traced the sphere of a breast, drew a line over her ribs, past the slight roundness of her belly—tickled the sensitive peak of her clit with the cold silver metal. Michelle yelped with pleasure. He reached past her, unlocking the door, then swept her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold.

Kicking the door shut, he bore her past the sitting room, a bathroom, and down the long hall to the room on the north side of the house. The music room, where he’d first caught sight of her outside his window, illuminated by the warm yellow light of a single lamp. Nick knelt, depositing her on a divan against one wall. “What do you want?” he asked her, his expression unreadable in the soft light from a lamp on the table nearby.

Michelle wanted him to devour her, to absorb her, to join with her until reason fled and only transcendence remained. But she also longed to hear his music again—the hinting, haunting melodies that had drawn her into this exquisite torment. “Play for me,” she breathed.

Nick walked over to a shelf, opened a case, and removed a gleaming silver flute. “Wait,” Michelle said. She rose and padded across the chill marble floor. She unbuttoned his shirt—swiftly, surely—and pushed it off his shoulders. He let it fall from his arms to the ground. “That’s better,” she sighed, and returned to the settee, its rough brocade offering a stark contrast to Nick’s smooth skin.

He raised the instrument to his lips, began playing a haunting melody of elemental longing. Michelle’s heart ached as he played. All of Nick’s love, his generosity, his passion, was expressed in this music—yet it was so bittersweet, evoking a feeling of joy thwarted, passion unrequited, love unfulfilled. Michelle yearned to go to him, to tell him everything would be okay. She wanted to assure him that they could do this, the two of them—have a life together despite whatever secrets he might have. But she didn’t want to disturb him while he played this living composition—this intimate expression of his soul.

When he had finished, she went to him. She memorized the way the lamplight played across his bronzed features. She ran her hands over his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Like a blind woman, she committed the form and feel of him to her memory—his strong jaw, as if chiseled from stone, slightly receding on one side. The curve of his brows—one smooth and rounded, the other rough and somewhat irregular. His cheekbones—again, slightly different—one fluid and sleek, the other sharp and angular. Not visible to the naked eye, but there to be discovered and acknowledged by her sensitive fingers. She had never noticed these subtle differences before—usually utterly absorbed in the simple fact of his presence. The slight flaws made him seem vulnerable.

She combed her fingers through his hair, pale as ripe wheat. She investigated the contours of his skull, the slight depression in one side, the perfect curve of the other. A glimpse of his scalp beneath the gleaming strands revealed a narrow, puckered scar and she was reminded fleetingly of the fact that he had undergone surgery to repair some genetic abnormality, and wondered what he had gone through, what it had taken for him to become so utterly irresistible.

Nick immersed himself in Michelle’s intimate explorations, her dexterous fingers inciting torrid fantasies. He reached down and unfastened his pants, letting them drop to the ground. Michelle drew her fingernails down his chest, lightly grazing the tips of his nipples, sending electric undulations down his spine. Halting at his waist, she hooked the tips of her fingers inside the waistband of his underwear and knelt. She eased the elastic down, tantalizingly, her mouth so close he felt her warm exhalations on his primed cock. As she pushed the garment to his ankles, one of her silken curls brushed across its sensitive tip. Nick moaned. Michelle touched her tongue to the base of his bulging member, then stroked upward until she came to the luxuriant head. She moved her agile tongue in brisk whorls, around and around the tip. Then she caressed the rough ridge of his circumcision—exploring its contours, nipping it with her teeth.

“God, yes!” he groaned. Michelle smiled. She reached up, tickling his long shaft with the lightest touches of her fingertips. Nick gasped. He grabbed her wrists and drew her to her feet. He kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth eagerly, deeply, rapidly—the way he wanted to fuck her. When he finally released her, Michelle knelt and retrieved the flute from where he’d dropped it on the floor. She placed the instrument back in its case.

Nick took her by the hand and led her to the divan, indicating with a gesture that she should sit. She did, and Nick sat in front of her, parting her legs. Michelle drew her knees up, spreading her legs as far apart as they would go, then scooted her butt to the edge of the couch. Nick trapped her clit between his lips. Holding it tightly, he flicked, twirled and taunted the passionate, tender peak with his tongue until Michelle cried out with pleasure.

He looked up. “More?” he asked playfully.

“Yes!”

Michelle balled her supporting hands into tight fists and thrust her hips forward as Nick plunged his tongue into her pussy. Nick probed and pushed, playing her clit like a fret with the tip of his nose, using his tongue to torment her cunt, plucking desperate cries from her. When he could feel her coming to the verge of climax, he backed off for a moment, despite her pleas. Then he resumed his torture. He used this tactic repeatedly, drawing out the composition, conducting Michelle in a rising crescendo of passion, for what seemed to her like a lifetime; until finally, gasping, Michelle lunged forward, trapping his head with her hands, holding him tight to her cunt as paroxysms of passionate pleasure rocked her body.

Nick’s cock jetted. He cupped his hands beneath it. Michelle finally relaxed back into the couch. Nick abandoned her pussy, bringing his hands up, coating her breasts with captured cum, lubricating her with his essence. She moaned and caught his hands in hers, directing his fingertips to her anxious nipples. He massaged his glistening cream into the tips. They stiffened—engorged, dark fruit just waiting for Nick to taste them. He obliged, sucking and nibbling until they were rock-hard.

He stood up. “No,” Michelle gasped, reaching up to draw him down onto her again. He winked and pulled away. He walked over to a large cabinet in one corner of the room. Opening it, he reached in and pulled out a guitar case. He opened the case and drew out a beautiful guitar, its rich wood gleaming. He carried the instrument over to Michelle.

“Play for me,” he said.

Michelle nodded. Nick sat beside her on the couch. Gently, he guided her into his lap, her back to him, her tight buttocks against his thighs. He lifted the guitar into her lap.

“Now,” he urged.

Michelle began playing, her trembling hands struggled to find the right notes. Nick reached around her, plucking a string here, holding a fret there. Michelle improvised, pouring her passion, desire, and love for Nick into the music. Nick played faster, his notes complementing hers, completing hers. The composition became a rich tapestry of sound and vibration and their relationship with one another.

Faster and faster they played, hands flying over the instrument in an intricate dance. Michelle felt Nick’s penis begin to swell against her. She re-positioned herself desperately, seeking satisfaction—wanting nothing more than the feeling of his cock inside her. Nick reached down with one hand, guiding his straining staff into the place she needed it most.

She swallowed him, enfolding his phallus in warm, wet radiance. Michelle drew her feet up, using them as leverage to rock herself back and forth, up and down, on his cock. Nick watched the backs of her legs, her sinewy calves flexing and releasing as she plumbed her pussy with his cock.

And they kept playing as though their lives depended on it—as though the moment would cease to exist if they stopped. Nick felt a desperate longing wash over him as his body stiffened, rising on a wave of orgasmic frenzy. Holding it back, wanting to come when she did, he brought his lips to her ear. “I love you,” Nick breathed.

Michelle closed her eyes. A relieved sob escaped her lips. All her doubts seemed to drain away. She could no longer determine where she ended and Nick began. A blaze of white-hot glory suffused her body, her pussy pumping as a river of semen exploded inside her. Their music melded, blending into one long, echoing harmony as they both clutched the guitar, soaring on a scintillating crest of pure gratification.

For several moments, all they could do was sit, resting, waiting for the aftershocks to subside. Finally, Michelle revived enough to set the guitar carefully aside and lean into Nick’s warm embrace.

It was late April and the days had been getting quite warm, but the nights were still cool. When Nick felt goosebumps rising on Michelle’s chilled flesh, he stirred. She moved so that he could stand. He crossed the room swiftly and removed the fireplace screen. He used a fireplace match to light the already-prepared tender, then placed three logs atop and waited until they caught. Then he replaced the screen. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he told Michelle. He returned carrying two down comforters and a couple of pillows.

Michelle rose, helping him to arrange the comforters—one to protect them from the cold floor, one to cover up with—into a cozy nest on the floor. Michelle curled up beneath the top blanket as Nick walked over and turned the lamp off. Nick slipped in beside her and gathered her into his arms, relaxing in her soft, yielding embrace.

With returning warmth came a burgeoning of desire, and Nick trailed his fingers across the sensitive skin on Michelle’s lower belly. She responded by turning her head to nuzzle his nipples. She fondled his nubs with her tongue, her lips—her erotic manipulations bringing both his nipples and his penis to horny, erect peaks.

Michelle stood, allowing the cover to cascade from her. She held out her hand to Nick. He took it. She drew him up and led him over to the piano, pushing him down onto the bench. “We played my instrument,” she said, her eyes dark and sultry. “Now, let’s play yours.”

She straddled him, her warm, succulent vagina like a custom-made encasement for the instrument of his desire. She wrapped her legs around him, crossing them behind his back. As Nick began to play, she rode him.

Nick played the sharp, titillating notes of her stiff nipples pressed into his chest. He played the muted, low chords of her curly bush against his pelvis, introducing a high trill as the wiry hair tickled his sensitive flesh. Basso notes echoed their hearts’ beating. Michelle varied her rhythm to match the rhythm of his playing, riding him fast and hard when his tempo increased, moving languorously when his playing slowed. Nick added a repeating, three-note theme that was the feel of Michelle’s taut rump kneading his upper thighs as she flexed, rose, returned. He brought in an occasional two-note accent to represent the brief sensation of her heels digging into the soft flesh of his buttocks as she brought their hips together.

All this, and more, he played. The rapid rasping of their breathing, the fluttering whisper of her lashes against his cheek, his shoulder, as she rested her head against him. As he played, he felt them merging again, becoming one, a being of sensation and love and music. He arched back, groaning with pleasure, as he and Michelle and their newest composition reached their climaxes simultaneously. Michelle tensed, prolonging her orgasm, squeezing Nick’s shaft with her strong vaginal muscles until the last drop of his hot essence permeated her being.

They sat, trembling, for a brief moment. Then Nick picked her up wordlessly and carried her to their fireside bed. They slept in intimate embrace, arms and legs entwined, hearts beating as one.

* * * * *

Michelle lay with her eyes closed, trying to bring back a glorious dream. A dream during which Nick had admitted once again that he loved her. Sleep eluded her, however, so she reluctantly raised her eyelids, and found herself looking into Nick’s rapt, sky blue gaze. In the pale, pre-dawn light, he brushed a wayward curl back from her face.

“Good morning,mi fantaisie ,” he drawled.

“Why do you call me that?” she asked sleepily.

“Because you are,” he said, “my fantasy.”

Memory of the previous night came flooding back—that there had been no dream, but an undreamt-of reality, and Nick saying ‘I love you’. She stretched like a kitten, smiling, her heart bursting with her feelings for this man, knowing a sense of contentment she hadn’t experienced since those brief, idyllic years spent raising her daughter. “Good morning,” she purred.

“You know,” Nick grinned wickedly, “someone should go get your clothes from the driveway before my staff starts arriving.”

Michelle stared, eyes wide. “Oh, no!”

Nick laughed. “Just kidding. They don’t work on Sunday.” He tweaked her nose. “But Iwill go get them, before some curious neighbor decides to investigate.”

Michelle waited, basking in the warm afterglow of their night music.

In the brief time it took until Nick’s return, Michelle found herself wishing he were already back, his cock buried deep inside her. She couldn’t believe the amount of unremitting, carnal lust he inspired. She just wanted him to fuck her, over and over. That had never happened with Alex. Once, sometimes twice a night had been enough for both of them. She wanted Nick to spend the rest of the day, the week—a month, buried inside her tight pussy.It must have something to do with love , she sang to herself.

Nick returned, wrapped in a robe, her clothes in one hand. Wordlessly, Michelle took the garments from him and flung them aside. She pulled open his robe and pushed him to the floor. Happy to see his rod stiff and unbending—ready for her—she mounted him, fucking him fast and hard, her cunt moving back and forth over his distended penis like a bow riding the strings of a fiddle. Nick growled into her ear as they both quickly climaxed. “You’re an animal!”