“Better,” he whispered. “This time quicker.” He looped his other hand around me.
I repeated my inhalation, snatching a lungful. I blew a long note before launching into the Mozart a second time.
Oh, my God. I’d never played with somebody touching me before. When I looked down, the rise and fall of his arm was visible.
“Close your eyes.” He squeezed my sides. “Don’t be nervous.”
Nervous? My legs had gone to jelly. His breathing, which was quicker than mine, landed on my neck. I struggled to hold my breath, to reach the end of the phrase. My eyes flickered as I fought the dizziness. I swayed and he steadied me.
“Keep going.”
I couldn’t stop even if I tried. I leaned backward, almost resting my head on his chest. For a few minutes, I was quite lost, as he trapped me with his roving hands. They slid up and down in time to the tune, stroking me, and I continued to breathe into his gentle embrace.
“That’s good,” he muttered.
I felt him. My bottom slotted between his hips and I had no doubts about the hardness. I rose up on my toes, sliding backward into him. His erection bulged.
The clarinet slipped out of my mouth. My lips parted and I lost the connection with her. Something else had captured me.
He lowered his mouth and kissed the side of my neck, a gentle caress of his lips. He sighed, releasing his breath slowly, like a gentle puff, and the heat bloomed across my heaving chest. He lifted the edge of my sweatshirt and his fingertips made contact with my skin. I snatched a breath. He journeyed up my belly, higher, while he continued to kiss and explore my neck.
I clung to Nettie, fearful that I might drop her. It wasn’t the only part of me clenching. I recognized the familiar sensation. Months had gone by without it. I’d neglected my poor sex, apart from the occasional frantic rub under the bedcovers. I moaned.
I should have been saying no. Perhaps have pushed him away and created space between us. We’d only met a week ago and I’d spent more time in his car than anywhere else.
He reached my breast. He probed with a finger under the elasticated band of my bra, stretching it until the strap popped over my nipple, freeing it. He rolled my nipple between his finger and thumb. It sprang to attention. My little pebble responded on cue to his touch.
“Oh, God.” I drooled, licking the saliva away from my lips.
He hunted under my top with his other hand, finding my covered breast and releasing it from the cup. My bra bounced up onto my chest and hung there loosely.
“Callie,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop and I will. Otherwise, I?
??m going to take you.”
Oh, fuck. Yes. Take me.
I swallowed hard and twisted around, forcing a gap to protect Nettie from being crushed between us. I gazed up at his face. Bright eyes twinkled in my direction. “Is this part of the lesson?” I asked.
He curled his lips upward, an increasingly familiar expression of intent. “Most definitely. My own special tuition.”
“What makes you think I need it?”
“You told me.”
“Me? You’re sure of yourself.”
“Your clarinet told me.”
“Nettie?” I gripped her tighter.
He chuckled. “Nettie? You serenaded me, didn’t you?”
Had I? Was it deliberate, the choice of Mozart, the way I swayed against him? It was all me, though. “Your hands,” I said.
“My hands?”
“They knew what they were doing.”