He groaned, and it fit the music, fit the ache, but even more it suited the open-mouthed drag up my thigh, his tongue licking at my flesh, stroking the crease of my thigh. His gaze bored into me, daring me not to respond, as his mouth wrapped around my pussy again, tongue thrusting inside of me. My head fell back, my own mouth spread as I released a bawdy sound of pleasure, my hips rocking into his lips with the eager help of his grip.
Rehearsals had been useless if this was his plan—to undo me with that loaded dark stare and unravel me with a mouth made for devouring.
"Fuck you," I breathed out, not thinking, not reading the music more than the way it seemed to rise up from the keys he played to sing in my cunt, to join his fucking tongue in leaving me breathless.
He purred or laughed into me, drawing back and sucking kisses over my flesh up to my clit, flicking it with his tongue and then slurping on it till it pounded a drum in my blood. The music poured out of the organ, and I begged and cursed and moaned, not in harmony but in contrast. Nireas was ruining the act—ruining me too—and as a new hand appeared, two fingers pressing up inside of me, I wondered if this was some kind of revenge. It was the only explanation for this determined destruction.
"Nireas, I—" I gasped, arched, my hands flying back, grabbing blindly at pipes so full of music they made my bones numb. I was too close. "It's too soon."
He was curling his fingers inside of me, that same demanding hook, come closer, and he lapped once at my clit before speaking softly, pressing the words into my core.
"Not too soon. Long overdue. Come, Hazel."
My eyes opened, chin tucking to my chest, and I was vaguely aware of the music, a somewhat broken, ragged version of the piece we were meant to perform to. Then he gazed up at me through thick, dark lashes and latched his lips to my clit, sucking and licking, kissing and torturing, and finally stroking me with that devoted tongue.
I came with a bright shout, the music rushing through me, the vibration of the organ trembling with my clenching, craving core, shuddering through my veins, tightening and tensing and releasing in a sudden, slow burst of warmth flooding through me.
I sobbed at the release—only half of what I needed, my cunt aching to be filled, begging for Nireas's touch—and the shattered moment, and the sound echoed in the sudden silence. Nireas had stopped playing. I sat up as he pulled away, my mouth open on a question, but before I could speak I was being pulled down from my cushion, two hands holding me as another two reached up to the collar of my shirt.
I gasped, and the organ let out a crashing groan as I landed on the keys, the shirt torn open.
The audience behind Nireas fluttered with murmurs and expressions of surprise, but my gaze was on his face, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, lips pulling down in frustration. Between us, his other two hands fumbled at his pants, and I'd only just realized what he was doing when—
I shouted, arched in his arms, his grip around my hands pulling them up high behind me as he thrusted inside of my wet and still fluttering cunt.
"Yes!" The word was torn from me, jettisoned up through my lungs and out my lips by the force of Nireas's driving cock inside of me. The organ screamed again with me as he bucked, sinking deeper, then fully, until our skin kissed at the root of his cock.
"Hazel," he choked out, arched over me, eyes wide now, lips parted as I stared up at him in shock. "Oh, fuck, Hazel!"
He fucked me immediately, unapologetic in his need, and the shock evaporated the moment his lips met mine with the same hungry ferocity he'd shown my cunt. Fingernails dragged down my back, trying to dig into me. I fought for air as Nireas pulled me off his cock, bringing my breasts up to his mouth, growling into the nipple he sucked. Nireas looked up at me like I was carving him open, as if it was him submitting to me.
Music was abandoned in favor of the slam of keys as he drove back inside of me, half the notes ringing out endlessly where his foot braced a pedal, our voices moaned with the complaint of the organ.
There was no room for words, not as his mouth traveled up my chest to my lips, our tongues tangling as eagerly as our bodies, his hands replacing his mouth on my breasts. He whimpered into the kiss, fucked me like he was trying to make room for himself inside of me, hard and desperate, his cock beautifully thick and long. That was my specialty, my secret nymph skill for Mr. Reddy, but all I cared about in the moment was that Nireas was filling places inside of me that had been left craving for weeks.
I tore away from the kiss for air, and his teeth wrapped around my neck, sucking the spot, his hand gripping my wrists, stretching me out for the taking. I stared down at him, licked my own lips and found my flavor there.
Why now?
Ronan was right—Nireas had denied himself for years, his control finally snapping here on the stage.
No, not snapping. He'd known all week what he'd wanted.
My eyes fell shut as he pounded into me, my ass bruised from bouncing on the keys, my legs trembling around his waist, arms burning from the stretch. His only free hand squirmed between us, found my clit, and rubbed with all the gentleness he'd abandoned the moment he'd thrust into me. I was the instrument now, and Nireas played me like he was trying to break my strings and shatter my keys, as if he had the right to be furious with me.
I was the one who deserved to be angry. I'd been denied this, rejected, rebuffed. I yanked my hands free of his grip and took his face between my palms, pulled him back to my mouth as I started to cry, sobbing with need and sorrow into his lips.
Why now, Nireas?
His rhythm had never been even, all his musicality crumbling under the pressure of my cunt squeezing around his cock, but I could taste his finish on my tongue as he started to moan and shout. His hips bucked and kicked, pausing as if he could resist the finish as I bared down on him, forcing him to take me with him.
His release was hot inside of me, soothing the burn of his fucking, and his cry of relief pounded out on my tongue with the final stuttering notes of the organ. I barely felt my own release at first, but it wound through me, softening my muscles and melting me in Nireas's grip, as hot and syrupy as his seed now leaking out of me.
Nireas nuzzled my cheek, withdrawing from the kiss, and his breath hitched as his nose brushed my tears. "Did I hurt you?" he whispered.
Eight years ago.
"No," I answered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he held me on his cock, and returned to the bench he'd abandoned at the start of the scene. My inner thighs ached as we sat, my body spread over his lap, the audience hushed in their seats. Two strong arms remained banded around my back, and I hid my laughter against his chest as the rest returned to the keyboard, picking up from exactly where he'd left off after my first orgasm.
The audience roared with cheers and laughter as Nireas rushed the music to a new finish, slightly abbreviated from the original score, a punctuation to the desperate act they'd just witnessed.
"We need to talk," he murmured in my ear. "Wait for me? After curtain call?"
I stroked my hands over his shoulders, to the joint of his arms at his back, feeling their muscles flex under my searching touch. And the same two-word question continued its refrain in my head. Why now?
I nodded and Nireas sighed, trilling the music to a close, taking my chin in his hand and lifting it so he could stare down at me.
"Don't look at them. Don't bow to them. This was ours, not theirs," he said.