Page 101 of Perfect Pitch

Even as he was fully dressed, it didn’t matter. I was his to bend, to break. To cherish, to torture.

And I had a feeling that before the night was through, Mitch would do all those things to wring every emotion from my willing body.

As I lie crosswise on the bed, the feel of the powerful muscles of Mitch’s back shifting beneath my fingers is the most indescribable feeling. Every time he moves, whether it’s to kiss me, to suck the very tip of my nipple hard against the roof of his mouth, or to rise up against me to rock his cock against my wet core, pleasure bolts through me. The feel of him, us, fills me with power even as it weakens me.

Mitch has just plundered my mouth with another one of his kisses when I clasp my hands against his cheeks. “You need to know something.”

“I hope you’re about to tell me you’re on the pill.” His cock nudges against my entrance.

“That too. But before you take me,” I moan while I feel my nipples getting harder as his sprinkling of chest hair rubs against them when he undulates against me. I hook a leg around his hip and wrap the other around his back. “Christ, you could make a saint beg for mercy.”

“I don’t want a saint to beg, just you.” The guttural tone tells me he’s not unaffected by what’s exploding between us. He reaches down and flicks my clit back and forth.

I gasp, raking my nails down his back all the way to his ass—which I grab with both hands.

His deep chuckle is laced with satisfaction before he murmurs, “Yeah, you liked that.” And that’s before he slides his thick fingers deep inside.

“Oh god!” I cry out.

Mitch’s head drops back down as he falls to his elbows. “You were saying something?”

I try to gather my thoughts which have scattered to the four corners of the room. He pauses in his ministrations, and I grasp his head. “No. Don’t stop.”

He begins ravaging my breasts, mumbling, “Pill? Or do we need a condom, Austyn?”

“Pill. Yes. I take it.”

“Thank fuck.” His erection is already notched at my opening. He nudges his hips forward just a bit, just the head of his cock sinking inside.

Before he completely steals my ability to reason, I grab his face and pull him close. Nose to nose, I breathe my truth into his soul. “I’m falling for you too.”

His hips jerk, lodging him further in. With that, the last hold he has snaps. His cock pushes forward once, twice, until he’s fully seated inside me. We’re both panting heavily as he rocks back and rolls forward. Not completely pulling out, yet guiding back in with more power than before.

Our bodies are slick with each other’s sweat when Mitch leans down and nips my lips before rasping, “Fuck, you’re killing me. Each time I feel your pussy clamp down on me, I want to come.”

I squeeze my muscles, wanting what he wants. It causes him to lose control. His rhythm becomes hard and fast as the beat of our lovemaking changes. Our sounds are reminiscent of timpani drums rumbling like a train as we chase an explosive conclusion to this song we’ve written together.

When it comes, it’s so much more than a pulse made by two bodies.

It’s a symphony of ecstasy.

* * *

Mitch slowly drags his fingers up and down over my bare back as I lay sprawled across his chest. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

I stiffen against him. “Excuse me?”

He continues his ministrations. Fortunately for him, he keeps talking. “Not here, not like this. I wanted to give you something that resembled romance, Austyn. Not just passion.” His fingers tangle in the ends of my hair.

I lift and meet his gaze. “Is that all it was to you—passion?”

He shakes his head. Relief surges through me. “I crave you, Austyn. I don’t just feel that way about your body, but about your exquisite mind and beautiful soul.”

Overcome, I manage, “Mitch,” before my forehead plants on his chest.

“I just wanted our first time to be special.”

I wriggle on top of him and clasp his face between my fingers. “It was. So what the first time we danced vertically it didn’t end up being a sonata but a tango. Who cares? The fact is it happened.” I give him a quick peck on the lips. “At least it wasn’t a mosh pit.”

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