Page 20 of My Defiant Mate
Then it changes. A new theme comes in, clear and sure. The chaos finds an order. The static becomes a single, perfect note.
When I open my eyes, Toby is watching me, his face raw. There are tears in his eyes.
"That's…" He swallows. "That's beautiful."
"It's you," I say. "It's what happened when I met you."
He stands and crosses the space between us. I set my guitar aside. His hands frame my face, and he kisses me—deep and slow and full of emotion.
"No one's ever…" He breaks off, his voice thick. "No one's ever made something for me before."
Seeing him so vulnerable makes my chest tight. I stand, my hands finding his waist, pulling him closer. "You inspire me," I say, knowing it's not enough. "You make me want to create. To be better."
His breath hitches. "Jionni…"
I kiss him again, harder this time, swallowing the rest of my name from his lips. This isn't gentle anymore. It's desperate. He melts against me, his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer like he's afraid I'll disappear. The kiss turns hungry, his tongue sliding against mine, a frantic dance of need. A raw, possessive growl rips from my throat, an animal sound I don't try to control.
This is what I want. This complete and utter surrender.
I walk him backward, my mouth never leaving his, until the backs of his legs hit the hard edge of the piano bench. He stumbles, and I use the momentum to lift him, setting him ontothe closed lid. His legs part instinctively, making space for me between them.
"We shouldn't," he gasps as my mouth moves to his neck, tasting the frantic pulse there. "Not here."
"Why not?" I murmur against his skin, my hands already on the buttons of his shirt, popping them free one by one. "Room's soundproof. Door's locked. No one will hear you scream my name."
"Someone could—ah—someone could need the room." His protest is weak, his head falling back against the piano as I find the sweet spot just below his ear.
I bite down gently on the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, right over a mark that's already fading. I'll make it fresh. He shudders violently. "Let them find another one," I growl. "This one's ours."
His resistance crumbles. His hands fumble with my waistband. "You're a terrible influence," he says, his voice a breathless whisper.
I grin against his skin, licking a stripe up his throat. "The worst."
I push his shirt off his shoulders, letting it pool around his elbows. His skin is pale in the fluorescent light, marked and bruised with my claim. I trace one of the darker bruises on his collarbone with my finger, a possessive thrill shooting through me.
"Turn around," I say, my voice rough with command.
His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet mine. He understands. Without a word, he slides off the piano and turns, placing his palms flat on the surface. The position pushes his ass out, a perfect, beautiful offering. My cock gives a hard throb.
I work his pants down, my hands landing on his hips.
"Jionni," he breathes, his voice catching as I press against him, letting him feel the length of my hard cock through my jeans. "Please."
I lean over him, my chest flush against his back, my mouth at his ear. The scent of lemon polish from the wood mixes with the rising, musky scent of his arousal. It's intoxicating. "Please what? Use your words, RA. Tell me what you want."
"You," he says, his voice breaking as he pushes back against me, a desperate, seeking motion. "Inside me. Now."
That raw need in his voice sends a bolt of heat straight to my balls. I straighten, fumbling with my jeans, shoving them down just enough to free myself. I'm already leaking, my cock hard and aching for the tight heat of him.
I press two fingers to his entrance, finding him already slick and ready for me. He gasps and shivers at the touch.
"Told you you were mine," I growl, positioning myself at his entrance. I push in slowly, just the head, watching his back arch. The piano creaks softly as he grips the edge, his knuckles turning white.
"Yes," he gasps, his head dropping forward, his messy hair brushing against the wood. "Yours. Only yours."
I thrust in fully with one smooth, deep stroke. He cries out, a sharp, muffled sound. I'm buried to the hilt, his body clenching around me, tight and hot. I stay still for a second, letting us both feel it—the perfect fit, the absolute rightness of this.
Then I start to move, a deep, hard rhythm. Each thrust pushes him against the piano, a soft, steady thump that echoes in the soundproofed room. Thump. Thump. Thump. It's the beat of our own song.
