Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then, I’ll have to show you my surprise later.”

I grunted and leaned back on the desk. “And how long do you think that lace will remain on your body?”

She blushed. “I haven’t decided if you’re going to touch it yet.”

“Lies.”

Smiling, she turned around and went to the violin. My gaze went straight to that fat ass. It was all bare and jiggling with each step. My cock grew in my pants.

Grunting, I rubbed my mouth, needing something to do with my hands.

She picked up Eros, and I wished my cock was in her fingers instead. She strolled over to me. “I wanted to play for you.”

“And then afterwards, I can play you?”

“Yes.” Desire filled her gaze as her voice lowered. “Then afterwards, you can play me.”

My cock jerked. “Hmmm.”

Lifting the violin and bow, she went into position, giving me a nice view of those breasts. The first notes she executed with precision, but that was my Eden—skilled and talented in a gritty, yet breathtaking way. She reminded me of myself.

What will she play for me today?

The song began with a romantic tone. Subtle. Bright. Hopeful. Smiling, I recognized it immediately. She seduced me with her playing, calling to the lust in my soul and causing goosebumps to cross my arm.

Damn you, Strauss’s Sonata.

She swayed, losing herself in the first movement. The sound was a fragrant haze. I inhaled and became drunk. If her playing could be a drug, I would’ve smoked it, sniffed it in my nose, injected it in my blood. I held my breath as she finessed each stroke, performing a fiery and powerful Allegro. Mesmerized, I left her bow work and watched those fingers as they danced around the board. Each time her fingertips placed; I whispered the notes in my head.

Beautiful.

I stood, unable to contain myself. My heartbeats increased as if trying to follow her rhythm. Soon the measures united in my brain, and the tune lured my ears deeper into the song.

Strauss’s Sonata had an initial flourish, but then the main theme arrived. A heroic melody. An adventure with a sense of urgent drama.

It was fascinating how music could transport one from their reality. In one moment, I was in my office. The next, I stood in my childhood living room, playing this very sonata to my mother.

Eden brought back all those old memories. I could taste my mother’s hot chocolate on my tongue. She’d made it during the winter. Thick, dark, and extremely rich. So much that one cup would make me miss dinner.

Eden continued to play, and more memories filled the room.

I swore long logs crackled in the fireplace next to me and heat brushed my skin, even though there was no fire in my office. But there had been one in my childhood home. My mother’s perfume filled the air, and the salty breeze of the sea as it would blow in during the summer.

I blinked.

Eden’s view returned to me. My temptress. My siren. My queen. She spun magic with that bow.

Jesus. She plays it better than me.

Eden entered the second movement of the sonata.

My father’s face flashed in my mind.

“Play, Jean-Pierre,” my dad yelled as Etienne dragged him up the stairs with his other men. “Don’t stop playing, Jean-Pierre. Don’t stop.”

“Yes, papa.”

I fisted my hands, shut my eyes, and did my best to push the memory back.

The music stopped.

Eden’s sweet voice pulled me out of the darkness. “Jean-Pierre, is everything okay?”

Swallowing, I opened my eyes. “You’re amazing.”

She lowered the violin. “What happened?”

I blinked again and focused on the moment in front of me—her looking beautiful. “How long have you been practicing the sonata?”

“I found a few times yesterday evening, while you were getting your men together to fly us back from Nice. And then I’ve had all morning.”

I checked the time. Several hours had passed. I hadn’t eaten. I’d just been sipping whiskey while trying to figure out what the hell had been going on.

“I’m jealous.” I grinned. “I’ve practiced that song all my life and could never find the joy in the bow strokes that you found. Rafael said my version always sounded so sad. Even when it was supposed to be upbeat.”

She walked over to me and placed Eros on my desk. As soon as the instrument hit the surface, I captured her. She shrieked. “You’re so fast.”

“Am I?” I kissed the curve of her neck.

“Jean-Pierre?” She caught my attention, touching my chin, and lifting my view to her. “What happened, when I was playing? Why did you close your eyes?”

“I thought about that moment with my father.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“No. That shows how well you play. But that’s not important. Currently, I want to fuck you on this desk.” Lifting her up, I turned us both around and set her on my desk. “Do you know how bad I would want to fuck you, after you played that?”