I don’t need to see anything to play. It’s not the first time I’ve played with my eyes closed, but it’s the first time I’m doing it in front of someone.
I’m about to ask what’s next when I feel his hands trail up and down my back. His strong hands knead my tight muscles.
“Play.”
At his words, I take a deep breath, and the bow strikes the strings, a horrible screech slicing through the air.
“It’s okay. Try again. You’ve got this,” he whispers, his lips finding the shell of my ear.
His encouraging words, mixed with his hands caressing my body, give me the nudge I need to try again.
I shiver at the touch but continue to play.
The next chord rings out better, but not quite there.
“Tell me what you thought about when you lay in bed last night. I know you couldn’t sleep. Did you miss me in bed?” His words are like warm honey, dripping over me and making me crave the sweetness only he can provide.
I don’t speak, just shut my eyes tighter, muscle memory taking over as all the thoughts from the night before run through my brain.
The way I missed his warmth.
The way I wanted him to touch me.
Touch me like he is now.
His hands continue to rub at my muscles, trailing lower to find the tension living in my body as I try to play.
His fingers softly skim the side, touching the swell of my breast. My breath hitches, and I stop playing.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Then play, Sasha.”
I continue at his command, the song pouring through me. His hand lowers.
Teasing.
Taunting.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks again, and this time, I shake my head.
His hand is right there, under my dress, skimming my bare thigh, and then his finger is pushing my panties aside. I stop playing again.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“You just asked me that,” I say on a moan.
“Well…you’re not answering, and every time you stop, I stop. So what’s it gonna be, firefly?”
I might die if he doesn’t touch me.
“No. I don’t want you to stop.”
“Then what are you doing, Sasha?”
My eyes dart around the space, and at that moment, more issues filter in.