Page 28 of Serving the Maestro

I didn't turn to face her.

“You make music sound so...alive,” she murmured, moving into my line of sight.

“For me, it is.” I looked at her, anticipation humming in my veins. Skimming a look over her, I took in the simple black wrap-style dress and knee boots, in a murderous red. “I'm going to have a serious boot fetish by the time I leave New York.”

Her cheeks colored. “Blame the weird weather. I'm ready for sandals and sundresses.”

“Then I'll have a thing for sandals and sundresses.” Meeting her gaze, I smiled. “Take your panties off.”

She tensed, her lashes flickering in surprise while color flooded her cheeks. “I guess we're starting our lessons right away.”

“Yes. Take them off.”

“Here?” She licked her lips. Holding up a bag, she said, “I've...uh...the food?”

“Go put it in the kitchen. Then come back out here and let me watch as you take off your panties.”

Instead of replying, she turned and walked into the kitchen. I played to keep my hands busy more than anything else. The second they weren't occupied, I'd have them on her, and I wanted to draw out everything about this night.

Curious, I waited until she returned to the living room. “The other night, you said it was the first time you'd enjoyed sex in a while. Why is that?”

She smoothed her hands down her skirt—but made no move to pull it up or remove her panties.

“Ah...bad luck? I haven't clicked well with guys lately,” she said. She made an attempt at a casual shrug, but it fell flat, the movement stiff and awkward.

“We clicked.” Sliding my gaze down and appreciating the curves under the sexy dress, I said, “Panties.”

She huffed a small breath and then reached under the dress.

“Slowly,” I said, my hands settling into a slow ballad, one of the first I'd written. “Good sex starts with the build-up...the anticipation.”

“The teasing, you mean.” Her voice hitched, but she did as ordered, her movements slowing. She swayed forward fluidly, so fucking female and sexy, as she pushed the panties down, the skirt demurely hiding her hands while providing a teasing view of her cleavage.

“You call it teasing. I call it build-up. Some might consider it foreplay. Are your nipples hard?”

She sucked in a breath and froze, her impossibly gorgeous eyes locked on my face. Her voice was a tight whisper as she answered, “Yes.”

“Good. Drop the panties, Jazz, and come sit next to me.”

The lacy blue scrap lay on the floor a few seconds later, and I moved over a couple of inches to allow her more room on the bench. “How wet are you?”

A sound caught between a squeak and a laugh escaped her. “Trent...”

“Answer the question.” I studied her, taking in the heat-hazed expression on her face, her eyes glassy. “It's part of the deal, pet.”

Her lips parted. She licked them, then haltingly whispered, “Very.”

“Good. I'm going to tell you what I plan to do tonight. I'm not into giving my subs pain, so you don't have to worry about that. But as this progresses, I will push you to your limits, maybe beyond them. If you're not comfortable, or if you've had enough, you say the word, and I'll stop.”

“Is this the safe word thing?”

“Yes.” Over the past few years, BDSM had been talked about some. I wasn’t surprised she knew about safe words. “You should choose a word you'll remember.”

“Piano,” she blurted out, gaze tracking to the baby grand in front of us before returning to mine. “I won't forget that one.”

“Neither will I. One thing I do enjoy—a lot—is binding my subs. Another? Blindfolds.”

“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “I think I can handle all of that.”

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