“Lean back on your elbows, kitten,” he said without missing a note.
At least I didn’t think he missed a note. It wasn’t like I was any kind of expert at that type of thing, but it sounded right. More than right, really; it was erotic. I wouldn’t exactly call it a soundtrack to a porn flick, but considering that music was obviously another extension of Noah—much like his fingers, his tongue, and his colossal cock—it made sense that, by extension, it would rock my pussy also. It more than rocked my pussy, in fact. It moved me, made me feel things that were probably illegal in forty-eight states. Plus, the way his digits worked those keys, it was obvious where he’d gotten the practice in for other things. So I realized that the King of the Finger Fuck had apparently changed his name from the King of the Piano Fuck.
I leaned back on my elbows, but kept my eyes on him. Noah was looking right back at me. And when I say he was looking right back at me, it wasn’t the Cooch. It was me, my eyes. He was looking at me so intensely I thought I might spontaneously combust.
And then it happened.
Without breaking eye contact or interrupting the sexy little ditty he was playing, he leaned forward and placed a kiss right over my clit. My jaw hinged open as I sucked in a breath and held it while my legs jerked involuntarily. Of course that messed up his angelic song, what with my toes kerplunking on the keys under my feet and all, but Noah just gave me that smug smile and continued on. The only difference between what he was playing before and what he had begun to play was that the notes sounded heavier, more urgent.
He also continued to do that thing he was doing with those luscious lips and serpent-like tongue. His mouth was hot and wet, his lips softly caressing my south mouth while his tongue expertly manipulated every nerve ending in my body from that one spot between my legs.
It wasn’t going to take me long.
The Cooch was warming up her vocal cords, preparing to give the concert of her life. Maybe she couldn’t actually sing, but Noah had made her hum madly over the short amount of time that they’d known each other. All I’m saying is that he was one hell of a vocal coach.
And speaking of humming—Noah was doing just that against me, keeping in perfect harmony with the music he was playing, like he’d written the thing himself. Which he very well could have.
The muscles in my thighs shook uncontrollably and my hips bucked as I tried to get closer to the deliciousness that was his mouth. I ached for my release and found myself begging for it out loud. The music suddenly stopped and Noah latched on to that swollen little bundle of nerves between my legs, sucking like his life depended on it. I bolted upright and fisted his hair in my hands to force him to stay right where he was. At the same time my orgasm took over my body, and my head fell back and my thighs clamped around his head, followed by a string of indecipherable profanity from my lips in a voice that didn’t in any way, shape, or form sound like mine. Swear to God—er, Noah—I think I’d become possessed by some evil orgasm-hoarding demon or something.
It wasn’t until after the waves subsided and the tension in my body unwound a bit that I became legitimately concerned that I had cut off Noah’s air supply. Death by aspussiation, as opposed to asphyxiation, was not exactly something they’d put on a death certificate, but how cool would it be if they did?
“Oh, my God! Are you okay?” I panicked and forcefully lifted him by the hair of his head to get a look at him.
He was wearing that “I’m a fucking god” smirk on his face, and then he licked the remnants of my orgasm from his lips and said, “No. But I sure as hell am about to be.”
I didn’t know how or when he’d had a chance to do it, but as he stood upright, his pants were already down to his ankles and his colossal cock was standing at attention, saluting me.
He lifted me off his piano and sat back down on the bench with me in his lap. It took all of two seconds for him to lift my ass, position himself at my entrance, and then slam me back down on top of him. And he didn’t lose momentum from there. Over and over again he lifted my hips and brought me back down hard on him. His mouth clamped onto a nipple as I held him to me. Even though I was the one on top, I was in no way in control of the situation. It was all Noah. Inside me, around me, on me—he was everywhere.
With each thrust of his cock, he went deeper and harder until a light sheen of sweat coated his forehead and began to dampen his hair. My eyes started rolling to the back of my head, and I thought perhaps I really was possessed, but I wouldn’t know for sure until my head started spinning or I felt the urge to vomit pea soup everywhere. I didn’t actually think it would happen, though, because how could something that felt this good possibly be evil?
I came again, digging my nails into his back, and I didn’t give a rat’s ass if I was shredding his designer shirt or not. All I knew was that I needed to hold on and never let go. And I did just that, even after Noah let loose this feral growl that should’ve frightened me, and then came inside me. With a couple of strokes more, he was finally spent and exhausted.
Noah kept the side of his face pressed against my chest and his arms wrapped around my waist. He didn’t even bother to pull out of me. And he was silent. The only sound in the room was the echo of our heavy breathing as we both tried to come down off our high, or maybe we were just trying to make it last longer.
I didn’t let him go, either. I kept stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head until I finally laid my cheek against it and held on. I couldn’t let him go. I couldn’t fucking let him go. For the first time since I’d made the decision to do this, to sell myself into this whole messed-up thing, I was terrified.