This is a one-shot written for Coachlady12's birthday. *waves* HI, BB! If you don't already know her, she's a wonderful woman, funny as hell, and a great friend. And Darling, I wasn't actually pissed off with this fic, I was just frantic about not finishing it on time. *giggle*
Just so you know, this is one fat lemon. There is background, but no plot.
The characters aren't mine, I just make them have sex. No, they belong to the lovely Stephenie Meyer, without whom we wouldn't have this wonderful fandom.
I am not nervous. I am not nervous. I am not nervous. I am not nervous.
Yep. It's working…
It wasn't working.
But really, I wasn't nervous for the obvious reasons. I could handle the hundreds of people staring at me, and I could handle my music. Hell, I could even handle messing up (though it didn't happen often).
I just couldn't handle… him.
He was the most conceited, irritating, pompous, CONFUSING man I had ever come into contact with, and I couldn't stop thinking about him.
It started out 'normal' enough. Right away, I could tell he was an ass, as most conductors are (I am speaking from my own experience), and he had a right to be. The man was an expert at almost every instrument he came into contact with, he had an unbelievable knack for instantly diagnosing problems in a rehearsal, and he was absolutely fuckhot. Quite literally every single woman—and some men—in our orchestra wanted to bone him. Repeatedly.
Would I consider myself in this lot? Don't get me wrong, I'm not blind. He's absolutely gorgeous. I would even admit, the most gorgeous person, man or woman, that I have ever laid eyes on. Then I spent a week under his leadership, and that solved THAT problem. He was demanding, unsympathetic and rude. You might think that I'm being childish in my summation, but I'm not… much. If he had to address an issue more than once, he absolutely flew off the handle at how incompetent that person was, and told them to not come back until they had fixed it. One day he sent home the entire flute section, and we had to continue without them. Another day I caught him eyeing me the whole two hours, waiting—willing, even—for me to screw up.
In short, 'No.' I would not consider myself one of the sheep.
At least not up until three weeks ago.
That day we had rehearsal, and immediately after, auditions for first chair. Now, I've been playing the violin since I could pick up a bow (my mother was insistent on bringing up a daughter with 'culture,' and my father was insistent that I never give up anything just because it was hard). There was only a short time in junior high that I was cocky about my talent. But I was put in my place quickly enough, and worked my ass off to get where I was now. I was truly confident in my ability to take on the role of Concertmaster.
The interview and the piece I played went off without a hitch. The panel was made up of four senior orchestra members, two major financial contributors, and him (Up until then, the group had a new conductor every year for various reasons, so considering that it was a community ensemble, they came up with this panel to assist the conductor in making the final decision). I was the last audition, so I waited five minutes before they came back out and told me I had the position, but he didn't look too happy.
As I was leaving, I felt a tap on the shoulder, and spun around to have him right in front of me. Much closer than I had ever been to him, as a matter of fact. I stopped breathing, and I cursed my body for instinctually reacting to him as I did. I could smell his aftershave.
"Don't disappoint me, Swan." He said quietly, but with an edge, as he brushed past me down the hall.
I almost ran after him to tell him that there was NO reason for all this animosity. That I knew he took note of me in rehearsal on my demeanor and ability. That most of the time I had felt like speaking up, I didn't, because it wasn't as if what he was saying that was ever wrong, it was how he said it. How it irritated me that he felt like he had to be such an ass all the time, even when no one contradicted him. I almost said something. Almost.
Instead, I was just annoyed for the rest of the day. I was a pansy.
The next two days were stressful. As Concertmaster I had to report to him the status of sectionals regarding problem areas, as we were getting closer to our holiday performance. I had intended to explain the notes I brought to him right before our rehearsal, but he just held out his hand for the papers and told me he'd see me in ten minutes.
"Are you sure you—" I began to protest, but he cut me off.
"That will be all, Miss Swan, I will see you at rehearsal. Thank you."
I held my tongue, but only just. I was getting to my wit's end. I couldn't be expected to just stay quiet while he walked all over me. Nope. One more cutting remark, and I was gonna let him have it.
Not five minutes into rehearsal, and he started going through my notes. Harshly. Asking each section why in the world they were having such a hard time in areas that were so obviously 'easy.'
The entire two hours was like that.
I didn't feel like confronting him in front of the ensemble would be appropriate, so I chose to stay behind. I put my things away slowly and lagged behind the rest of the group.
Just as I had everything together, I heard someone enter the hall.
I turned just in time to see a small girl run, and jump into his outstretched arms. He picked her up swiftly and spun her around once, and then kissed her on the forehead.
"How are you, Pumpkin! Where's your Mama?"
"She coming." The girl grinned, as she poked him in the cheek with her tiny finger.
A petite woman walked in looking very tired.
"Thank God it's over. I don't think I can take her shopping again for a looooong while. I'll just send her off with you next time." She said, before taking notice of me on the other side of the room. Her face went from mild surprise, to confusion, and then she smiled. I realized I had been staring, but smiled back, and pretended to be preoccupied with something. I didn't want to interrupt.
"I'm surprised you waited this long to do your Christmas shopping. You're usually finished before I even start mine." He still had his back to me, holding the girl on his hip.
"Um… Edward…?" The woman was looking between us, expectantly.
He turned around, and my breath caught. I don't think I had ever seen him smile.
"Miss Swan, I'm going to lunch with my sister. Would you please lock the door when you leave?" He waited until I nodded, and then the three of them left.
I was stunned.
It wasn't that I was especially keen on kids. On the contrary, if that was ever in the future it'd have to be way… way… WAY in the future. It was just him. Anything I had seen of him up to that point had been rigid, and douchey, and he still had that stick wedged all the way up his ass. But when he held his niece, he was a completely different person. All traces of stress and acrimony were gone.
Seeing how he could actually be when he wasn't trying to be an asshole made me painfully aware of him after that. ALL of the time.
Just having him walk into the room, my panties would drop on their own accord.
No, really, I was considering investing in underwear suspenders.
But there had been a change in our exchanges, and I couldn't imagine why. He was still an ass, but it was almost half-hearted. I felt badly for him, whatever had happened. I almost missed the old version of him. Again, 'almost.'
A half hour before each rehearsal I would drop off my notes on his desk for him to review, and without looking up at me, he'd simply acknowledge my presence with a nod, and a "Thank you, Miss Swan."
I was in limbo. On principle, I still disliked him. But this new knowledge, his demeanor—whatever was responsible—was doing nothing for my resolve.
I tried to get my head back into the moment at hand: what in the world to wear for the concert.
I stood naked in my walk-in closet. I had to wear all black. You wouldn't think that'd be difficult, but what I wore to my last concert came back completely shredded from the dry cleaners, and my next option was incredibly low-cut. That wouldn't be a problem, except I didn't want it to look like I was trying to get his attention.
I'd figure that out in a minute. I went to my underwear drawer and started pulling out piece after piece. I could never wear nylons without a line showing, so I had a stash of beige thigh-highs on the side, and tossed two on the bed.
If you've ever heard the term 'power panties', that's what I was going for. There are a few things that make a girl feel like a million bucks, and one of them is a nice set of lingerie. Even if no one actually sees anything, it's still nice to know that underneath your innocuous exterior, you look like a porn star.
Nothing was working, but I was running out of time. I only had thirty minutes to shower and get ready, so a thought occurred to me…
Fuck 'power panties'… I'm going commando.
I was so screwed.
I had no idea what I was getting myself into with taking this job. No inkling of the amount of stress I would be putting myself under, unnecessarily.
From the beginning, I knew that my ability to conduct this orchestra would be easier if I channeled my excess energy into my interaction with the other instrumentalists. But now that Miss Swan—Bella—had seen me completely disarmed, I couldn't focus. I had tried to keep up the snarky façade I had constructed so well, but it was like my subconscious had surrendered.
Bella no longer looked at me with the same frustration I had intentionally elicited, but confusion. That was worse than admiration, because it made me like her more. She wasn't a lemming. She used her mind, rather than throw herself at me, tits first, like the rest of the bimbos in this ensemble. The problem was that since I had distanced myself so much from her, what would happen if I told her everything? Would she absolutely hate me? Would she quit the orchestra?
This has been the battle from day one. Bella had an amazing talent. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable. I also didn't want other people to look at my instinct to dote on her as an excuse to ignore that talent. It happened all the time in musical circles. Any type of circle, for that matter, but especially those that were made up of musicians. They were always so full of themselves. At least they weren't vocalists.
It was also the reason I was averse to recommending her for first chair. It killed me to do it, but I barely held on to my self-control by a thread during rehearsal, and had already slipped a few times. I knew that she would be chosen, with my input or not—she was that far above the rest of the section in everything, including talent—but part of me almost wished she weren't. It would mean working closer with her, and I couldn't handle that. Not without my balls literally turning purple and falling off.
As I had predicted, she was chosen, and I was just going to have to find another way around it.
But it wasn't working.
Each time she knocked quietly on the music office door to hand me her sectional notes, I wanted to lock it behind her and ravish her right there, the rest of the ensemble be damned. The primary thing that was keeping me from doing that was the potential of her rejection. To think that she would return my affection after being a complete douchebag all these months was laughable.
So although it had almost the same outward manifestation, the reason for my bad mood had shifted. The only person who noticed any difference was Bella, and this was the cause of her confusion.
It was the evening of the winter concert, and I had to come up with something that would keep my head screwed on straight. Under normal circumstances I would say a tumbler of whiskey would take care of the severity of my nerves, but as it was, losing my inhibitions was probably not the best idea.
Warm-up was scheduled for five, and I had to be a little early. I had no more time to prepare.
I was so screwed.
I was going to be late. There was no possible way I could get to the auditorium in under twenty five minutes. Plus, the place was a labyrinth, and I had only been there once. Thankfully, I had the foresight to dry and straighten my hair first, so I put on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve top and decided to change when I got there, after warm-up.
After about eight minutes of trying to navigate my way through the auditorium, I finally bounded through the rehearsal hall doors, and every single eye was on me.
"I'm glad you could join us, Miss Swan. Please, take your time." He said, coldly, eyeing my attire. Although he wasn't dressed yet, either, so I didn't know what the look was for.
Well, hello, Admiral Asshole. I was wondering where you'd gone.
I quickly pulled up a chair and opened my violin case.
The warm-up sounded beautiful. I wondered at how during rehearsal everything can seem strained, but on the day of, everyone is relaxed and everything just blends perfectly. It's the mark of a good ensemble when you finally say 'fuck it' and understand that whether you know your part or not, you're going to do whatever you can to make sure everyone else looks good.
Once the last note finished reverberating about the room, I quickly gathered my case, purse and dress bag and sprinted to the lockers. I had fifteen minutes to complete my makeup—which was only eyeliner, mascara and lip balm—get dressed and get on stage, without tripping on my heels. It was only my final look in the mirror that reminded me I hadn't decided what to do with my hair. I could leave it down, but it was more than likely I'd get too warm, so I decided to tie it into a loose bun at the nape of my neck.
I took a deep breath and walked slowly out to the wings of the stage, and heard the waning applause for him.
And never had he deserved an applause more.
He was absolutely stunning. His tall, slender body was clad in a classic tuxedo. The coat had satin lapels and long tails in the back, a white dress shirt, white vest, and black bowtie. He turned to me, and as I realized I had been blatantly ogling him, his mouth turned up into the sexiest half-grin I had ever seen. He held out his right hand, covered by a white glove, beckoning me on stage.
After a moment, when I hadn't moved, he turned back to the microphone in front of him, and spoke quietly.
"Our Concertmaster, Ladies and Gentlemen. Isabella Swan."
As the applause began again, he turned and walked toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. Now on autopilot, I walked out and met him halfway. I put my hand in his, and he raised them to place a light kiss on the back of my fingers.
I was awestruck by this change in attitude. Yes, we were in front of hundreds of people, but this was not how it was done. He was supposed to stand there, wait for me to come out, and there was no touching involved. And there was DEFINITELY no kissing involved, on the hand or otherwise. The last part is what was most difficult to comprehend. Of course he had to come and get me—I had stood there looking like an imbecile in front of the entire orchestra—and of course he had taken my hand—how odd would it have looked for him to come get me, and then not lead me out, as if it was unintentional?
But that kiss…
That kiss, although seemingly innocent, was entirely otherwise. We hadn't looked away from each other from the moment our eyes first locked, until I had bowed to the audience in the center of the stage and walked to my seat. And when he did it, it was like he was looking for something. Although that may have simply been wishful thinking on my part.
I mentally shook myself from my stupor—physically shaking myself would have been very silly, considering where I was—and allowed my body to relax. As it always did, the first few notes of the music transported me far away from everything and everyone, and concurrently focused and grounded me to the direction of the conductor.
I watched as Bella placed the violin against her porcelain skin, and her chin on the rest. She blew me away.
As we performed, I counted each measure in my head to maintain some sort of distraction from the woman in front of me. But when her solo came, I allowed myself a few moments' indulgence of her grace. I knew that while she was playing, she was completely unaware of me, and that's how I would want it. To let yourself become completely immersed in performing a composition is one of the few joys I have found to be almost—if you pardon the term—orgasmic. It doesn't last forever, but during the act, entirely satisfying. A complete ecstasy. And I knew that Bella felt that, too. I knew that I was a lucky bastard to be front and center to her trance-like state. This is why I had held back my… well, initially my lust, and eventually my emotion.
It was the climaxing high-G note that she held for a single legato measure that I saw her eyes close, jaw loosen, and slowly exhale, before I raised my baton and eased the rest of the ensemble back into the piece. Her eyes remained closed, and I followed her lead to the final page of music, where the group I had relentlessly accosted for four months, finished the final decrescendo more than perfectly.
A whole four beats after the final measure, the audience roared in applause, and I suddenly remembered where I was. My next actions were completed without my conscious permission, as I thanked the audience for attending, raised an arm in recognition of the musicians, and then walked over to Bella to bring her front-and-center, where she deeply curtseyed and bowed her head. When she went to remove her hand from mine, I held it more tightly, and walked offstage with her.
I had no idea what I was doing. This was very abnormal procedure for a conductor, I knew. And she knew. Hell, everyone knew, except maybe two or three people in the auditorium who had never seen a symphony before. Once behind the shade of the curtained wing, she ripped her hand from mine, and kept walking, and I followed her to one of the lounges.
"WHAT was that about?" She demanded. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I want an explanation. NOW."
I stood motionless for several moments, considering what I wanted to say, fully taking in her form. Her black heels were simple, but sexy, how they wrapped around her ankle and made her legs look a mile long. The dress that stopped just at her knee hugged all of her curves, accentuating her lovely behind and pert tits. She wasn't sickly skinny like so many women who go nuts with trying to look like supermodels, but filled out proportionately. It was nice to know I wouldn't break her.
Her stance calmed after a while, and a blush rose from her breasts to her face, and pooled in her cheeks.
"Mr. Cullen, I—"
"Edward." I corrected her, and then remained silent, allowing her to finish her thought.
"Edward…" She said hesitantly, almost like she was trying it out. "Edward, I don't… understand?"
I tried—unsuccessfully—to keep myself from smiling at her question-statement, like when I saw her before she came on stage. I had realized that she at least found me attractive when I caught her staring, and now I knew that she wasn't entirely averse to the idea of 'us' when I saw that she was staring again, this time at my mouth. Her tongue poked out and wet her bottom lip, and her breath was audible.
"Do you know how exquisite you are, Bella?" I asked, the smirk fading from my face.
Her eyes widened in shock, and her stance again became rigid.
"E-excuse me?" She stuttered, quietly.
The smirk returned. Anything resembling willpower had left me long before, when I nearly dragged her on stage.
"You have to know how beautiful you are. When you speak, when you play… when you argue with me?" My smile widened. I realized I had slowly been stalking toward her, and was now in the middle of the room. She had completely stopped, like a deer caught in headlights, and she hadn't laughed, or yelled at me for being an asshole. And as I continued to walk closer, I didn't think she would.
I noted her lack of excessive makeup. She had just enough to bring attention to her features, but not so much that it came off in clumps. I needed to touch her.
I removed the white glove from my left hand before raising it to stroke her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she released the breath she had been holding. I took off my other glove and laid them on the counter behind her. In doing so, I closed the space between us, and she tilted her head to inhale deeply against my neck. I became painfully aware of the straining against my boxer-briefs that I had control over until that moment.
As I turned, she was staring back at me with a look I had only seen her wear in my dreams. I took her face in my now-bare hands and pulled her toward me. I didn't know how far I could go before she stopped me, so I started out by kissing her temple, taking my time. I made my way down to the corner of her mouth, her heart rate steadily increasing under my hands with each peck.
I hovered for a moment over her lips, still gauging her reaction, before pressing down lightly. She wasn't rigid, but she wasn't engaged either. Like she was getting used to the idea, very much like when she had first said my name. And then she began to move her mouth against mine.
The kiss quickly picked up speed, and we both found ourselves begging for breath, but consistently going back for more. With a final gasp, she broke away, where I took the opportunity to try to devour her neck.
"I really…" gasp. "…don't understand."
It was only fair to give her some explanation.
"I must admit that when you walked into the hall the first day, I didn't give you a second glance."
Okay, so I figured I'd go with teasing first.
"Well, gee, thanks." She spat back, and tried to pull away.
But I couldn't have that, so I pulled her body flush against mine, and continued.
"But I'll have you know that by the end of that first rehearsal, you had me." I whispered into her ear.
She shuddered against me as I rubbed circles into the small of her back, and released her gloriously long hair from its confines. As she continued to drill me, I toyed with the strands that were now curled from being back all evening.
"All of the antagonism, though… My audition for first chair?"
"I love that you're still trying to find a logical explanation for my actions. I really don't have one, aside from the solitary thought that I would make life difficult… for the both of us. Do I have to describe in detail how this ensemble would have acted if they had known about my feelings for you?" I attempted to convey the conflict that I had dealt with. It wasn't nearly enough to make up for my behavior, but perhaps she could understand that much.
I went back to kissing her neck, and her giggle turned to a moan. She stood there, accepting me, as I moved to her lips, and my left hand moved up her waist, to the wire of her bra.
My hand had a mind of its own as it continued to cup her breast fully, and caused her to whimper into my mouth, telling me that she liked what I was doing to her. Her pulse quickened yet again under my fingertips, as she continued to writhe and moan.
I hadn't even begun to cause her to feel pleasure. More than anything, I wanted to see the same face of ecstasy she had demonstrated earlier that evening. I wanted to know that I made her feel that way.
Each moan that left her lips went straight to my cock. I was already too worked up. I needed to feel her skin against mine.
Our eyes locked, each answering any question of doubt the other may have had. We both desperately needed this. My tongue grazed her bottom lip, requesting entrance.
She opened her mouth to me, and I tasted her for the first time.
We explored each others mouths unhurriedly for a moment, and Bella became more and more comfortable, leaning into my touch.
As her responses became more urgent, a thought occurred to me, and I maneuvered our bodies toward the door, and I quickly locked it. She seemed a little confused in her dazed state.
"Wouldn't want anyone to rudely interrupt us, do we?" I smiled, taking her mouth again and lifted her up by her backside to pin her between me and the wall. She wrapped her legs around me, her heels digging deliciously into my ass.
She ground into me as I nipped at her lower lip.
Fuck, I love foreplay.
I ran my hand from behind her knee, up her thigh, to her hip, then to her stomach, unhindered.
I held my breath while my brain comprehended what my fingers were trying to communicate.
She's not wearing panties. Oh, fuck me.
I grinned as I rested my head in the crook of her neck, reveling in the fact that this… vixen had been hiding underneath such a seemingly innocent exterior, all this time. I began to suck on her collarbone, marking her as mine, while exploring the beauty I found beneath my fingertips. The smoothness of her legs, her tight buttocks, and the softness of the inside of her thigh.
With each movement forward, I anticipated her reaction, and with every correct response, I continued my ministrations. With the initial brush of my thumb against her sweet nub, Bella's head jerked back and hit the door with a loud, reverberating clunk. I would have been worried, but she quickly assured me she was fine, and resumed kissing me, soundly.
With such a violent reaction from such a light touch, I was slightly worried about the result of any more strenuous stimuli, so in one swift movement, we were on the couch beside us, and I had pinned her again, still claiming her mouth. There wasn't much I could say about that. I'm a man who knows what he wants.
Slowly backing away, I noted the red line caused by her tights against her milky legs, and knew she'd be more comfortable with them off. I took great care in not snagging the nylon while removing her shoes, and then peeled away the offending garment.
I unzipped the side of her dress below her arm, and moved down her body to raise it above her glistening center. She tensed under my momentary gaze, and I decided I should take it a bit slower. The look on her face didn't say whether or not she was aware of my intention, although I couldn't imagine any man not wanting to please her in this way. Regardless, I needed her to relax.
Keeping her dress where it was, I slid back up her body to capture her mouth. After a moment I began lightly running my fingers up and down her lower lips, and she soon calmed again.
"Aren't you wearing too many clothes?" She said, breathily.
Not for this. I almost told her, but just grinned, and made my way back to the promised land. I nuzzled her fabric-covered torso, feeling every muscle contraction, until I reached the bit I had bunched under my hands.
I breathed over her bare sex, and she whimpered as I brushed my hand over her mound. I wanted to get her as worked up as possible. With a second gentle brush of my hand, she bucked up, and I held her thighs down with my elbows so that I could work, uninterrupted.
I looked up at her face, and if I had not been planted between her legs at that moment, I would have thought she was in pain. I smiled.
"Bella. Bella, look at me." I waited until I had her attention, her gaze half-lidded with lust. "I want you to watch as I devour you."
Her eyes popped open, and she swallowed audibly, her breasts heaving between us.
I took all of her into my mouth at once, and she immediately screamed out in pleasure, bucking into me. I held her down with more force, and repeated my previous action. Looking up, I see she had already scrunched her eyes closed.
"Bella… You're not watching…" I admonished quietly against her lips.
Now using my fingers, I opened her up to me. With a flat tongue, I licked all the way up her slit, and placed a kiss on her clit. She was still watching when I pointed my tongue and used it to fuck her softly, and she continued to writhe in delectable agony.
I alternated between rapid and ridiculously slow plunges. She seemed conflicted at what to do with her hands. I would have told her that a very acceptable thing to do would have been placing them in my hair, but my mouth was rather busy. She finally ended with one of them in her own hair, and the other massaging her breast. I was mildly jealous of them—the hands, that is—but there was plenty of time for that later.
Before she could feel a void, I quickly replaced my tongue with my index and middle fingers, putting my mouth to better use at her clit. I licked and sucked at her almost lazily as my fingers frantically worked her to her end.
I absolutely could not get enough of her. And as her voice continued to seemingly raise in octaves and her muscles began to clamp rhythmically around me, it only caused me to work her harder, extending her orgasm for as long as possible, while she screamed my name, repeatedly.
When her body had calmed, I placed a final kiss on her clit, making her shudder and release a low chuckle.
I lifted her limp body with my left hand while rubbing circles up her torso, bringing the rest of the fabric of her dress with me.
Reaching her breasts revealed a crimson bra, and I kissed her lightly on the mouth before removing the dress entirely, then joining our lips once again.
"Now you're wearing too many clothes…" She said with a lazy smirk. I certainly had to agree with her—I had only removed my white gloves.
"I think you're right."
I couldn't possibly expect her to disrobe me, so I decided to do it myself.
I slowly stripped for her—becoming more aroused, if it was remotely possible—as she watched me. She was laid out before me, completely bare, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers, like the goddesses Venus or Minerva.
As I removed my last article of clothing, my erection sprang free and hit my stomach with a thwap. Bella giggled.
I remembered the condom I always carried with me, and turned to get it out of my pants pocket. My ego—as well as other parts of my body—swelled as I heard her gasp when I bent over in front of her, giving her a perfect view of my behind.
When I turned back to face her, we moved almost in sync as I closed the gap between us, and she moved to make room for me to take her. I kneeled between her legs and went to go open the foil package, but she stopped me, placing her hand over mine.
"No. I'm covered, and I'm clean. I… I want to feel you." She said, tentatively.
"I'm honored." I replied, sincerely. "And just so you know, I'm clean, too. I hope you would never think I would disrespect you in that way."
Bella grasped and pulled my face to hers, making that her first initiation of the evening. Not that I minded either way. It was nice to see her enthusiasm. Leaning against one arm, I took a breast into my other hand as I slid my length against her core. All of the sensations together were overwhelming to both of us, but I slid against her again, teasing us.
"Edward, please…" She gasped.
Ah… your wish, my command.
With my hands on either side of her head, the right one tangled in her silky hair, I slowly pushed into her, and we both moaned, wantonly. I began to move, but she had wrapped her legs around me and held me there, reached up to kiss me, and sighed.
When I eventually did move, I all but pulled out of her, before pushing in harder, and going even deeper.
We set a steady pace, before her body began to move erratically, and so I slowed my cadence, and started speaking to her.
"Do you know how sexy were on that stage tonight? How beautiful you were? I've never seen anything more magnificent than you playing your violin so passionately, so expertly."
She let out a low moan at my words.
"What's that, Bella? Do you enjoy it when I tell you that I had so little control over my actions tonight that it was only when I was halfway across the stage that I realized I was coming to get you? A split second longer, and I may have ravished you right there in front of everyone."
She whimpered, then.
"Do you like when I say that no other woman…" Groan. "…has even come close to the way you appeal to me, body and soul?"
I moved my hand to where we were joined, massaging her clit, and kissed her between her breasts, before she grabbed my face to attack my mouth again. I plunged my tongue into her mouth and realized that she could taste herself, when she sucked me in, furiously. I effectively fucked her mouth with my tongue while I fucked her pussy with my dick.
I kissed her once more before leaning over to her ear.
"Come for me… Bel-la…" I drew-out her name, emphasizing its true meaning, and she screamed my name, while clenching around me. I thrusted twice more before spilling inside of her, and continued to move while we rode-out our orgasm.
As we came down from our highs, she held me inside of her.
I knew from the beginning that what I felt for this woman was more than physical, and I looked forward to showing her just how much.
I had SO much help with this from beginning to end, you have no idea.
Thanks to bananapancakes7 for helping me with the premise.
Thanks to sbgdgt for helping me through an awkward part in the beginning, when I felt like I was gonna rip my hair out.
Thanks to AmoreBella88. The slightly Domward aspect is a little out of my comfort zone. At the same time she was trying to write her own lemon, but awkward/inexperienced. Conveniently, we were able to get each other started, and ran with them. This version is SIGNIFICANTLY different—and I'll admit, toned-down—from her original piece, but she seriously helped me so much.
And as always, thanks to 23sparksfly (Twitter, Renee_1987) for being my pre-reader and cheerleader.
Thank you so much to JasperLuver48 for asking me to be a part of this. It was a wonderful experience, and I was able to connect with so many other beautiful women in the process!
And again, happy birthday to Coachlady1! We love you!