Sunday, July 5, 2015


~ Scene Continued ~

Her whole body went hot and wet. That was what she wanted—for him to be crazy about her, to need her all the time like she did him.
“I love this song, I love that you have the notes to it all over your body and I want to fuck you right here against this piano so that every time you sit down to play you’ll think of me.”
She couldn’t breathe. Everything in her seemed to be straining toward him. She wanted that too.
But it was true. If she let him take her here, she would never sit at this piano—one of her havens, one of her special places—without thinking of him. Could she do that?
He cupped the back of her head and kissed her, long, deep, sweet.
She could definitely do it. She had to do it, in fact. If this fling, this whatever it was, was all she was going to have of him, then damn right she wanted to think about it every fricking day for the rest of her life.
She kept their mouths connected, but managed to turn fully, straddling his lap.
Jackson gathered her skirt up in his hands as she reached between them to free him from his jeans and boxers again. He was big and hard and ready for her and she thrilled with the thought that this man could want her so much.
He broke off the kiss, roughly pushing her shirt up, his hands going to her breasts, rolling and pinching her nipples, then plumping one breast as he lowered his head, taking it into his mouth with hard suction.
Annabelle wrapped a hand around his erection, squeezing and sliding up and down the length, wishing for the first time in her life that she could give a blow job.
But Jackson was giving her no time for that. He released her nipple and pressed her back so that she leaned against the keyboard behind her, elbows depressing the keys in a loud, dissonant chord.
He drank in the sight of her, running his hand up and down her torso, between her breasts. His breathing was fast and he had a wild look in his eyes. He lifted her skirt and brought her forward on his lap, but clearly he couldn’t see what he wanted to.
“I’ll buy you fifty more,” was all he said before he grabbed the seam along the side of the skirt and yanked it apart. The skirt ripped up the side, the button closure at the waist popped open, and he flung it away.
Annabelle gasped and again realized that his rough dominant side was far more appealing that it probably should be.
“Caveman, huh?” she asked, her voice breathless.
“Damn right.”
She was now wearing only her T-shirt, bunched up above her breasts.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he told her. Then he lifted her by the hips and brought her down on his cock.
The sudden thrust shot hot sensations through her body and she gasped. He was filling her completely and she still felt as if she needed more. She ground her hips against his, using the piano behind her for leverage.
“Yes, like that,” he praised huskily.
He brought a thumb against her clit as he tugged on a nipple and Annabelle felt her orgasm already building.
She swiveled her hips and pressed against him again and he gave a little growl, squeezing her nipple. The sensation at her breast was seemingly linked to her clit and she felt the hot ache intensify.
“God, Annabelle.”
His voice was needy and rough and even that made Annabelle’s inner muscles clench in response.
“I’ll never get enough of you.”
Those six words sent her over the edge in the fastest orgasm she’d ever imagined. Her whole body clenched and she felt as though she was trying to pull him into her.
Including into her heart.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” he chanted as he thrust up into her, the rhythm and power reflected in the loud, pounding notes from the piano.
He came, groaning her name, holding her tight against him as his body shuddered, and Annabelle leaned in, wrapping her arms around him.

And wondering how she was ever going to let him go.


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