Dark Notes(78)

My heart rises and dips with each word, my breaths stuttering noisily.

“This is who I am, Ivory, and you are the essential and most important part of me.” He steps back. “Now bend over.”

My knees wobble at his words. I reach for the black Chucks on my feet, and the fancy designer denim cuts into my thighs. The downside of low-rise jeans? He’s getting an ungodly view of my butt cleavage right about now.

His palm slams against my ass with a force that steals my breath and topples me forward. But his arm catches me around the waist, and the hand on my back keeps me in a doubled-over position. Sweet Jesus, my butt cheek is on fire. The heat fans outward, circulating through my blood and gathering between my legs.

He rubs the sore spot, limited by the heavily-stitched pocket of my jeans. “Pick up the keyring.”

Hanging over the brace of his arm, I snatch the fob from the brick pavestones.

He grips my bicep and walks me toward the car. “I would redden your f*cking ass if you weren’t about to show it to the doctor.” He stops at the driver’s door. “Hands on the roof.”

Shit. What now? I drop the fob on the seat and place my palms on the shiny white top, smudging the pristine paint job with sweat.

His fingers slide around my hips and release the button of my jeans. My heart kicks into a feverish crescendo. He unzips the fly and, in one shove, yanks everything to my feet.

Standing outside in the daylight, nude from the waist down… This is a first for me. I can’t decide if I’m shaking from the thrill of someone seeing, from the fear of inevitable pain, or from the burning anticipation of him touching me again. Probably all of the above.

“Bend down and grip the seat.”

As I follow his command, a sense of peace washes over me. Whatever he does next will make me feel a little less lost. Every time he takes me in hand, he opens another door that shows me more about myself. The person he reveals isn’t ashamed or weak. I’m finally figuring out what I want.

His Doc Martens scuff against the bricks as he lowers behind me. His hands wrap around my thighs, and in the next heartbeat, he buries his nose in my *.

A slap of embarrassment flushes my face. But it quickly transforms into a torrent of desire as his exhale brushes against my flesh. A deep inhale follows, and his fingers tighten against my legs.

He’s smelling me. Down there. Deeply and repeatedly. I never would’ve imagined being so wildly turned on by this, but I’m shaking and panting against the strange and incredible sensation. He’s shaking, too, and… Oh f*ck, he’s licking me, kissing my * the way he kisses my mouth. Another—holy f*cking shit—first.

I bite my lip to silence my cry as he stabs his tongue between my legs. He laves my folds, brutally bites sensitive skin, and scratches me with his stubble. It’s pain and pleasure, soprano and bass, and every octave in between. I’m going to come. I feel the pull, and I reach for that wondrous place, grinding my * against his face and digging my fingers into the leather seat. Almost there. Almost—

He steps back.

I straighten and twist around to grab him, but he’s right there, catching me in the tangle of my jeans with his hands on my hips and his tongue in my mouth. He slides his lips over mine in slippery strokes, spreading the tangy taste of my arousal between us.

He breaks the kiss and drags my panties up my trembling legs.

My insides throb, aching to finish what he started. “I didn’t come.”

“I know.” He pulls up my jeans and fastens them. Then he grabs my hand and presses it against the erection behind his zipper. “I’ll wait for you.”

“You’re not going to the appointment with me?”

Regret etches his face, and he releases my hand.

Of course, he can’t go. Someone might see us together. I mentally slap myself. “That’s why you gave me the car.”

He cups my face and kisses me.

“I’m sorry.” I lean back and peer up at him through my lashes. “I was kind of a brat about it.”

“The brattiest.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

A smile stretches his gorgeous face. “Where would the fun be in that?”

He likes me to act out so he can discipline me for it? Today’s lesson: the worst punishment is a denied orgasm.

When I’m settled in the driver’s seat, he leans into the open window and gives me a flinty glare. “Don’t argue with the doctor.”

“I won’t.”

“Get the blood work.”

“I will.”

“And the birth control he prescribes.”

My pulse leaps. “Of course.”

Those hard eyes soften into a look I’ve never seen on him before. “Come back to me.”

I reach up and stroke his shadowed jaw. “Count on it.”





Unease buzzes through me as I turn out of Emeric’s driveway. Maybe because I’m wearing designer clothes, driving an expensive car, and obsessing about a man with no idea where I’m headed. I know my way to the clinic, but after that? Months down the road? After I graduate? Where am I going and how will I get there?

I know Emeric intends to keep me around. That both delights me and troubles me. Part of the reason I want to go to Leopold is to get out of Treme. Well, I did, and here I am with an address even Ann would envy. But I yearn to continue practicing piano, and not just under any instructor. The very best instructors Leopold has to offer. How could I throw away my dream for a man and forgive myself? How could Emeric respect me if I did that?