Page 65 of Liars and Liaisons

“On the contrary.” His arms lift, hands reaching around to grab my ass. He squeezes, hard, yanking me closer. “I like you as is.”

My own arms hang limply at my sides, all the bravado from minutes ago fleeing my system. I feel his breath on the hollow of my throat and can’t help the tension that threads through me.

Before I can travel too far into my head, he grips and hoists me into his arms, spinning so the dynamic shifts, and I’m pinned on the piano beneath him. He braces a hand on the keyboard cover while the other comes up to my shoulder, sliding my bra strap down.

“Lean back.”

I go slowly, trembling, until I’m bent awkwardly at an uncomfortable angle. The wood is hard on my ass, and I’m about to give up on the discomfort when the stool scoots audibly across the floor, and he uses both hands to spread my knees apart.

Even though I’m still covered by the sheer fabric of my thong, I feel wholly exposed. In a way I’ve never been before.

More so when he leans in, dragging his nose directly up the center of my pussy. His tongue prods at the lace, and I clench my teeth, hoping he can’t tell how wet I am already.

“Up.” His fingers tap my hips, and I lift accordingly, allowing him room to uncover the keys and slide the thong down my thighs. “A-plus for the sight of your pink pussy alone.”

The grading I asked for.

A stuttered breath escapes me. I stare up at the ceiling, through the skylights that showcase the stars outside. “I don’t know how much control I really have over that.”

He guides my hips back down, and my ass hits the cool piano keys, making an abrupt tune cut through the quiet air around us.

“The universe created you with me in mind,” he says in a low, thick voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were sent by the stars themselves. Plucked from the constellations and tossed into the path of someone needing guidance.”

I tilt my chin down, eyeing him warily. “Grayson…”

“I know; I know.” His fingers trail up my thighs, across my pelvis, and dip between my legs. “You’re going back to him. I’m just your temporary employer. I’m too old, too grumpy, and too cranky to make you really happy.”

On the last syllable, he slides a single finger into me, not even pausing to make sure he can before doing it. I wonder if I look as soaked as I feel.

“You don’t want him to know about how you think of me more often these days. Or what happened outside. Those are little secrets for me, yes?”

Yes. Secrets that will die here and here alone.

“Close your eyes, dirty girl. Let’s see what kind of music you make.”

I’m tense as I wait for more, my body primed with adrenaline, a tiny spike of fear, and all the passion I’ve been denying myself for weeks. The piano is rough on my joints, too hard beneath my elbows, but I don’t mind when the promise of what’s to come is so great.

A soft melody hums in the air, and it takes me a second to realize it’s not my imagination. Grayson’s free hand floats over the white and black keys beside me, wringing magic from the instrument in a slow, haunting tune.

It lifts up in the air, hitting the ceiling and then seeming to rain back down. The romantic, melancholic melody cascades across our skin, reverberating in my chest. I close my eyes against it, letting the music caress my soul as he dips his head and puts his mouth on me.

The first swipe of his tongue against my swollen, dripping flesh sends a full-body shiver through my limbs. That one finger pumps slowly, its tip pressing and kneading my inner walls, as he laves over my clit with the fervency of a starved man.

It’s as if he’s afraid he won’t ever get this opportunity again and he wants to engrave each sense into his memory for later.

Each stroke is lazy, each lick slovenly. My knees quake, reflexively trying to clamp together, and he uses his elbows to keep me wide open. On display for him and only him, the flames from the fire painting my skin orange instead of red.

“Don’t even dream of getting shy on me now,” he mutters against me, the vibrations making me pulse with wanton need. “This is all I’ve thought about since the night we met. My mouth on you, your eyes on me, those delicious noises you make when you’re close.”

“Oh God.”

A pause. Then, “I don’t think he can hear you yet.”

Fireworks sizzle across the surface of my skin, and the moan that falls from my lips is an octave higher in volume. His tongue twists, then flicks, making my back arch. My hands grow slick, grasping at the wood, the keys, his shoulders. Anything to keep me on earth.

“It doesn’t take much, does it, dirty girl? You’ve been dying to soak me.”

When he adds a second finger, it pushes a strangled noise from my mouth. My eyes pop open, my head snapping up as embarrassment courses through my bloodstream.

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