this woman’s sensual mouth and his desire to be a part of the soaring composition she was creating right beside him. Dawn played with her eyes closed, her fingers moving swiftly over the keys. The loose bodice of her dress fell open as she rocked forward to press the foot pedals, and Kellen caught a glimpse of the soft swell of one breast and an expanse of pale freckles decorating the smooth alabaster skin of her chest. Would he find freckles elsewhere? In places hidden from his view? On her belly? Her thighs? His cock twitched as he thought about kissing every freckle he discovered until she spread her legs for him. Would she allow him to sample her fluids with his tongue? Permit him to breathe the musk of her arousal while he treated her pussy to the same deep, plundering kisses he craved from her mouth? He wanted to hear his name gasped, moaned, screamed as she came over and over again at the insistence of his tongue, his lips, his teeth.
When he noticed the pair of thin boxer shorts she’d loaned him were tented with his obvious arousal, he was glad she had her eyes closed. He shifted so that his belly was against the piano and his erection was hidden from view. He tried not to imagine fucking Dawn on the lid of her grand piano, with her dress bunched up around her waist and her bare breasts spilling from her bodice. Tried but failed. He could almost feel her heels digging into his ass, her heat gripping him. He wiped at sweat that formed at the base of his throat.
This was what he got for denying his needs for so long. And it didn’t help that the song she was composing held the cadence of the sea—the repetition of surge and withdrawal, peak and valley—that was suddenly a lot more sexual to him than it should have been.
The storm raged outside, producing a clap of thunder so loud the windows rattled. Dawn jumped and pressed a hand to the center of her chest. “Oh,” she said, “that startled me. Sometimes I get lost in my music and forget there’s a world beyond my own sound.”
“I get the same way on stage sometimes,” he said.
She gnawed on her lips while she considered him closely. “You look a bit tense,” she said. “Is the song not working for you? You can be honest.”
The song was working for him in ways he was sure she hadn’t intended. He couldn’t very well tell her that it turned him on. Of course in his current state of sexual frustration, just about everything turned him on. He’d even gotten turned on while tying Owen last night.
He’d bound Owen so a woman could have her way with him, but seeing him like that… Kellen hadn’t been able to keep his hands off him and had ultimately fled the room with a stiff cock. How fucked up was that?
Habitual masturbation helped ease Kellen’s frustration, but it just wasn’t the same as touching another, as being touched by someone he loved and trusted. He’d touched Owen—and had once allowed Owen to touch him—because in whatever alternate universe his morals were now living, that was not cheating on Sara. Even though he’d convinced himself of that, how in the hell did he explain any of that shit to Owen? Owen who was down for anything as long as it felt good. Owen who loved everyone unconditionally. Kellen had taken advantage of Owen’s nature, and he felt terrible about it. Not terrible enough to have an honest conversation with him. Too awkward. What could he possibly say to make things right?
“Earth to Kellen,” Dawn said. “Are you feeling this song at all?”
“If I was honest about what this song does to me,” Kellen said, “you’d toss me back into the storm. Which actually might be for the best.”
“What does it do to you?” she asked.
He leaned back from the keyboard and glanced down at his lap. She followed his gaze and gasped at the very noticeable bulge in his shorts. “Oh!”
He rubbed at his eyebrow. She must think he only had one thing on his mind, which wasn’t far from the truth. “I’ll
When he noticed the pair of thin boxer shorts she’d loaned him were tented with his obvious arousal, he was glad she had her eyes closed. He shifted so that his belly was against the piano and his erection was hidden from view. He tried not to imagine fucking Dawn on the lid of her grand piano, with her dress bunched up around her waist and her bare breasts spilling from her bodice. Tried but failed. He could almost feel her heels digging into his ass, her heat gripping him. He wiped at sweat that formed at the base of his throat.
This was what he got for denying his needs for so long. And it didn’t help that the song she was composing held the cadence of the sea—the repetition of surge and withdrawal, peak and valley—that was suddenly a lot more sexual to him than it should have been.
The storm raged outside, producing a clap of thunder so loud the windows rattled. Dawn jumped and pressed a hand to the center of her chest. “Oh,” she said, “that startled me. Sometimes I get lost in my music and forget there’s a world beyond my own sound.”
“I get the same way on stage sometimes,” he said.
She gnawed on her lips while she considered him closely. “You look a bit tense,” she said. “Is the song not working for you? You can be honest.”
The song was working for him in ways he was sure she hadn’t intended. He couldn’t very well tell her that it turned him on. Of course in his current state of sexual frustration, just about everything turned him on. He’d even gotten turned on while tying Owen last night.
He’d bound Owen so a woman could have her way with him, but seeing him like that… Kellen hadn’t been able to keep his hands off him and had ultimately fled the room with a stiff cock. How fucked up was that?
Habitual masturbation helped ease Kellen’s frustration, but it just wasn’t the same as touching another, as being touched by someone he loved and trusted. He’d touched Owen—and had once allowed Owen to touch him—because in whatever alternate universe his morals were now living, that was not cheating on Sara. Even though he’d convinced himself of that, how in the hell did he explain any of that shit to Owen? Owen who was down for anything as long as it felt good. Owen who loved everyone unconditionally. Kellen had taken advantage of Owen’s nature, and he felt terrible about it. Not terrible enough to have an honest conversation with him. Too awkward. What could he possibly say to make things right?
“Earth to Kellen,” Dawn said. “Are you feeling this song at all?”
“If I was honest about what this song does to me,” Kellen said, “you’d toss me back into the storm. Which actually might be for the best.”
“What does it do to you?” she asked.
He leaned back from the keyboard and glanced down at his lap. She followed his gaze and gasped at the very noticeable bulge in his shorts. “Oh!”
He rubbed at his eyebrow. She must think he only had one thing on his mind, which wasn’t far from the truth. “I’ll
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