Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
She laughs as I roll her onto the mattress and hook my thumbs into her pink panties. The pink panties. I sweep them down her long legs and pitch them onto the floor. I’m kneeling between her thighs, but I sit back on my heels and pull her onto my lap with my arm around her waist, careful to avoid that bruise. “Is this okay?” She has her hands on my shoulders, and I lift her and position her over my straining cock. I’m waiting for her answer. She leans forward, her lips eager on mine, and I take that as my cue, and slowly…oh, so fucking slowly…I lower her onto me. Her teeth close around my bottom lip, and for a moment I think she’s going to bite me.
When I’m fully inside her, she gasps and releases my lip.
“Okay?” I breathe.
“Yes.” She nods. Enthusiastically. Her fingers are once more knotted in my hair, and she yanks hard, bringing my lips to hers. She’s ravenous. Devouring me. Needy. Kissing me with the same intensity that she showed on the stairs. And I don’t know if it’s because of what happened to her earlier or if it’s because I’ve told her that I love her, but she’s on fire. She moves. Up and down. Again and again. Taking me…taking me…
It’s heady. It’s hot. But it’s frantic.
This is going to end too soon!
“Hey.” I tighten my hold around her, stilling her, and I smooth her hair from her face. “Easy, baby. Easy. We have the rest of the evening and all night. And tomorrow. And the day after that.” Dark, dazed eyes blink at me. And my heart swells with a new and intoxicating feeling that consumes me. “I’ve got you,” I whisper. “I love you.”
“Maxim,” she breathes, leaning forward and kissing me once more, her arms clasped around my neck. She starts to move again, more slowly, letting me savor her. Inch by inch. Steadier…easier…It’s heaven.
Fuck.
And she rises and falls. Rises and falls. Taking me with her…climbing and climbing, until she stalls and cries out her orgasm, her mouth raised to the heavens and triggering my own shattering release.
“Oh, Alessia…!”
* * *
We lie still and quiet, facing each other. Not speaking. Just looking. Eyes. Noses. Cheeks. Lips. Faces. We gaze at each other. Absorbing each other. The only light is from the flickering flames of the fire, and all I hear is the spit and crackle of the burning logs and the thud of my heartbeat as it slows. Alessia raises her hand and traces my lips with her fingers. “I love you, Maxim,” she whispers.
And I lean forward and kiss her once more. Her body rises to meet mine and we make sweet, sweet love again.
* * *
We are cocooned beneath the sheets in our own makeshift camp in my bedroom. Both of us are sitting cross-legged, knees touching, eyes intent on each other, and lit by the light of the little dragon that joins us in our secret, tented hideout.
She’s talking.
And talking.
And I’m listening.
She’s naked, her hair is loose and flowing down to her waist, preserving her modesty, and she’s explaining how she learns a new piece for the piano.
“I will read the music for the first time, and I will see the colors. They…how do you say? Match a key.”
“A color for each key?”
“Yes. D-flat major is a green. Like a fir tree. From Kukës. The ‘Raindrop’ Prelude. All greens. But some darker greens as the piece changes. Other keys are different colors. And sometimes a piece may have many colors. Like the Rachmaninoff. And they…um…print in my head. And I remember the piece.” She shrugs and gives me an impish smile. “For a long time, I thought everyone sees all the colors in music.”
“If only we were so lucky.” I run a finger down her soft cheek. “You’re special. Very special to me.”
She blushes her lovely shade of pink.
“And who’s your favorite composer? Bach?” I ask.
“Bach.” She breathes his name with such veneration. “His music is…” She gestures and waves with her hands seeking inspiration, trying to capture the magnitude of what she wants to say, and she closes her eyes as if she’s experiencing an ecstatic, religious moment….
“Awe-inspiring?” I offer.
She laughs. “Yes.” She sobers and lowers her lashes, then peeks up at me through them. “But my favorite composer is you.”
I inhale sharply. I’m not used to her compliments.
“My composition? Wow. You flatter me. What colors do you see with that?”
“That was sad and solemn. Blues and grays.”
“Fitting,” I murmur, and my thoughts turn to Kit. She reaches up and caresses my cheek, bringing me back to her.
“I watched you play it at your apartment. I was supposed to be cleaning. But I had to watch you. And listen. It’s beautiful music.” Her voice softens to a barely audible whisper. “I fell more in love with you then….”