Remington (The Theriot Family 1)

27

Remington

I was shaking as I held Henri’s limp, spent body against me. I’d never experienced anything so intense. I’d thought our first time was incredible, but this… this had been beyond anything I’d ever felt. He’d reacted exactly as I’d hoped. The longer I’d tormented him, the more I’d forgotten it was meant to be punishment and thought only of how I could bring him more pleasure.

I ran my lips along his throat and nipped at his earlobe. “Cher, come back to me.”

He groaned, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Remington.”

His voice was filled with wonder when he said my name, and the look on his face was everything I’d dreamed of back when I’d thought I would find what Pop and Marjorie had, back before I shut that down, knowing my family responsibilities were too much for me to seek out love. Was I going to make the same mistake my father had made?

I lifted Henri off my cock, and he shivered.

“You’re going to be sore,” I said.

“Yeah, but it’s so good.” His voice was soft and dreamy.

I eased him down onto the bed and curled around him, not caring that his ass and thighs were sticky with my cum and his chest was covered with his own. I needed to hold him. I wasn’t ready to let go. I wasn’t ever going to be ready to let him go.

I didn’t know how things between us could work, but I wouldn’t send him away. Knowing I would find him a good job and make sure he had the money he needed to get a fresh start wasn’t enough. I needed him to stay with me.

No one else was going to touch him. I was going to pay his debts and shower him with everything he wanted. He was going to be my princess, and I would love him as thoroughly as he could ever desire.

I could no longer pretend I wasn’t in love with him. I would do whatever it took to make sure he felt the same. I suspected he already did. The way he looked at me, the way he trusted me, told me that. He was terrified when I’d found him in my office, but I sensed he was more afraid of being sent away than of me truly harming him.

Moments later, Henri was sound asleep, his breathing slow and steady. I got a washcloth from the bathroom and cleaned him up, but he didn’t wake. I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, not yet anyway. I was too charged up, too full of ideas and the intense feelings I had for Henri. I couldn’t deny them, but wrapping my mind around the idea that I was in love with him wasn’t easy. I’d never expected it to happen.

I lay next to Henri for a while, watching him sleep, listening to the sounds of the late-night partiers in the streets of the French Quarter. Eventually, I grew too restless to stay still any longer. I slipped into the little room where I kept my cello. I often used music to help me when I needed to think through something serious. I also played when I was either sad or extremely happy. It was as though I could express my emotions through music in a way I couldn’t with words.

I began to play “Bayou Melody,” then moved on to other things, snippets of music I’d composed and a few haunting songs filled with longing. I felt more than heard Henri approach. I finished the song I was playing and looked up at him. He stood in the doorway wearing my robe, which was much too large for him. His eyes were wide, and he was staring at me as if enthralled.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, but I needed some music.”

“It’s beautiful. I wanted to ask you to play for me before, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want to. You’d never mentioned your cello, and I thought maybe it was private for you.”

“Usually it is. I rarely play for anyone. After forced recitals as a kid, I refused to perform. They were awful and made me nauseous every time.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine you having stage fright. You’re so confident.”

“It’s always best to seem confident when you do what I do.”

He moved closer. “Tell me about what you do. Please.”

“I think you gathered enough of that with your snooping.”

He looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, and you suffered the consequences. I don’t think you’ll do it again.”

“I won’t. Next time, I’ll ask and hope you’ll answer me.”

“Come. Sit and listen.” He frowned, obviously disappointed I wasn’t revealing my secrets, but he did as I asked, sitting on the stool that was next to my chair.

I began to play my favorite song again, the one he’d known was so special I would use it as a password. I still wondered how he had guessed.