The Mister Read online E.L. James

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
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* * *

Alessia lies on her front, breathless, spiraling down from her climax, as he lies on top of her. His weight is…agreeable. She never knew her body had such capacity for pleasure. She’s sweaty and languid and satisfied, wrung out from her incredible orgasm.

But as she recovers her composure, truth be told, she feels a little guilty at this indolence. She has never spent the whole morning in bed.

He nuzzles her ear.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers as he moves to her side and gathers her in his arms.

She closes her eyes. “No, you are,” she says. “I never knew…I mean…” She stops and looks up at him.

“That it could be so intense?”

“Yes.”

His brow crinkles. “Yes. I know what you mean.” He gazes through the window at the gray, rain-soaked vista. “Do you want to go out?”

She snuggles closer, filling her senses with him. The smell of his skin. His warmth. “No. I like being here with you.”

“I like it, too.” He kisses the top of her head and closes his eyes.

* * *

I wake alone from my doze only to hear the strains of Rachmaninoff—my favorite of his concertos—coming from downstairs. It sounds odd…and then I realize, it’s just the piano. Of course there’s no orchestra.

Oh, this I have to see.

I jump out of bed and drag on my jeans, but I can’t find my sweater, so I grab the throw from the end of the bed, wrap it around my shoulders, and head downstairs.

Alessia is playing the piano wearing nothing but my cream sweater. She’s found some earbuds and is listening to my iPhone with her eyes closed, and she’s playing. Without the sheet music. Without an orchestra. Is she listening to the concerto?

She must be.

Her fingers fly over the keys, and the music surges through the room with so much feeling and finesse it leaves me breathless. She leaves me breathless. I can almost hear the orchestra in my imagination.

How does she do this?

She truly is a prodigy.

I watch her. Transfixed as the music soars.

It’s…emotional.

She reaches the crescendo at the end of the movement, her head bobbing in time to the music, her hair rippling down her back…and she stops. She sits for a moment. Her hands in her lap as the notes fade into the ether. I feel I’m intruding, watching her like she’s an exotic species in her own unique habitat. But I can’t help it, I break the spell and raise my hands and applaud.

She opens her eyes, surprised, I think, to see me there.

“That was sensational.”

She takes the earbuds out of her ears and gives me a shy smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’ve only played this a few times. I was learning it before I left…” She stops.

“Well, you play it very well. I could hear the orchestra.”

“From the phone?”

“No. In my imagination. You were that good. Were you listening to the piece?”

She flushes. “Thank you. Yes. I was.”

“You should be on the stage. I would pay to see you.”

She grins.

“What colors did you see?” I ask.

“In the music?”

I nod.

“Oh…this is a rainbow,” she says with such raw enthusiasm. “So many different colors.” She opens up her arms to try to convey the complexity of what she sees…but it’s something I’ll never know.

“It’s…it’s…”

“Like a kaleidoscope?”

“Yes. Yes.” She nods vigorously with a huge smile, and I realize that the word must be the same in Albanian.

“As it should be. I love this piece.”

I love you.

I step toward her and kiss her on the lips. “I am in awe of your talent, Miss Demachi.”

She stands and places her arms around my neck. I wrap us both in the throw that I’m wearing.

“I am in awe of yours, Mister Maxim,” she says, and she laces her fingers around my neck and pulls my lips toward hers.

What? Again!

* * *

She moves up and down. More graceful this time. Tall and proud. She looks amazing as her breasts bounce with her. Her eyes are intent on me. She’s embracing her power, and it’s so fucking sexy. Her tempo is perfect, and she takes me higher and higher. She leans down and threads her fingers through mine, squeezing them, then kisses me. An openmouthed, wet, and warm, demanding kiss.

“Oh, beautiful,” I moan…I’m close.

And she leans up and tilts her head back and cries out my name as she comes.

Fuck! I’m lost. And I let go and join her.

When I open my eyes, she’s gazing down at me in wonder.

* * *

Alessia is sprawled on Maxim’s chest, and they’re lying on the floor of the living room, by the piano. Her heart is slowing and her breathing subsiding, but she shivers. She’s a little cold.

“Here.” Maxim drapes the throw over her. “You are going to wear me out.” He flinches as he pulls the condom off but smiles up at her.


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