Page 90 of Last Chorus

The latter is a perfect distraction, not allowing for much coherent thought. Every step sends a wave of daunting sensation through my lower half. My thighs are embarrassingly wet, my labia uncomfortably swollen. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other, doing my best to ignore the feeling that something is going to slip out of me any second. From the size of the plug and the initial burn, it’s not going anywhere. I still find myself clenching, which only makes the sensations more intense and my steps more wobbly.

Wilder knew exactly what he was doing when he putthe axe in my hands, just like he knew what I’d need after. Sneaky man had the plug and lube in his pocket before we even left the house. If I wasn’t so uncomfortably aroused, I might have pretended to be more annoyed by his presumption. In reality, I’m amused. And grateful.

I’m so fucking grateful for him.

When I reach the studio, I waste no time rushing inside. The air is cooler indoors, hushed and still. Without the ever-present breeze, my skin itches with a reminder that I’m coated in drying sweat and a fine layer of dirt from my failed attempt at chopping wood.

Glancing toward the stairs, I briefly consider a quick shower before discarding the idea. Not only does it sound too challenging at the moment, Wilder has a kink for me being sweaty. Biting my lip, I look around the room in search of a soft surface.

My gaze catches on the Steinway. Namely, on the piano’s long, padded bench.

I’ve just made it to the bench when the door opens behind me. My body recognizes his presence with a tingle of familiar energy, so I don’t look back as I toe off my shoes and socks and pull off my sports bra. Then I tug the bench out a few more inches and carefully climb on.

His soft groan and rapidly approaching steps aremusic to my ears, as are his crooning words, “Better than any fantasy.”

Strong, hot hands stroke down my spine and over my hips. I gasp, my skin shockingly sensitive, all my nerves afire so that I feel his touch everywhere. He seems to know it, his strokes exceedingly gentle. When he begins dropping soft kisses down my spine, the pleasure is so consuming I almost fall off the bench. My arms and legs quiver, muscles burning, as I try to stay balanced.

“Wilder—”

“I know, baby, it’s okay.” He scoops me into his arms and smiles down at me. “We’ll try that on a day you didn’t spend forty minutes trying to murder a dead tree.”

I laugh, then choke on a moan at the unexpected result.

Wilder chuckles. “Hang on for just a few more minutes.”

He carries me across the studio, then lays me gently on my back atop an oversized ottoman. A hand clasps my neck possessively, then slides heavily down my chest to my stomach. Eyes bright with love and dark with need meet mine. I squirm, then whimper at the assault on my nerves.

“I need you,” I whisper.

“You have me.”

He slips out of his shoes and pulls off his track pants. My mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and flushed, and I open my mouth in silent demand. With a muffled curse, he kneels beside my head and feeds me what I want.

I lick the salty offering at his slit, then take him into my mouth. He watches with glittering, slitted eyes as I work up and down his length. Between his taste, the rough sounds he makes, and the vibration in my ass, it doesn’t take long for me to return to the precipice of orgasm. But when I try to sneak a hand to my clit, he grabs my fingers.

“Not yet,” he rumbles as he pulls himself from my mouth.

Thankfully, he’s just as worked up as I am and moves quickly, positioning himself between my legs. Lifting and spreading my knees, he guides them toward my chest.

“Hold them right here for me, baby.”

I do as he says, my reward his immediate groan. His eyes flash up to mine, jaw clenching and unclenching.

“You ready?”

“Is that a joke? Please, please get on with it.”

A small, impish smile flashes before his features tighten with focus. He grabs something from his pants. There’s asnickas a bottle top opens, then the sound oflube squirting into his hand. As he rubs the liquid over himself, I feel a tug at my ass. The vibration in the plug turns off.

“Deep breath in, Fairy. Relax and exhale.”

The toy slips out of me with a faint sting. Before I can process the mingled relief and loss, he presses himself inside me. I tense on instinct, waiting for pain that doesn’t come. All I feel is pressure and fullness and a surreal sense of being both inside my body and outside of it.

Wilder moans, low and breathy, his head bowing and hands clenching on my inner thighs. “Don’t move for a sec.” I stay still and a few deep breaths later, his eyes find mine. “Good?”

“So good.” My voice wavers, tears spilling from the corners of my eyes. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m totally fine. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

The intensity in his face softens. Leaning forward, he gives me a tender, consuming kiss. “I’ve edged you super hard. Almost there. Trust me?”

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