Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

“I agree.” He gave me a wicked smile. “I don’t want to hurt you, and you’ll find that every way I make love to you, you’ll love. Every last stroke.”

My legs felt weak.

Well. . .I do like the sound of that. But could it all be this simple?

He extended his hand. “Do you agree?”

“I agree.” I shook his and felt that surge of energy zoom through to me.

Jesus. He feels so good.

He took away his hand and I instantly missed it. Next, he grabbed my empty glass, finished his, and set them both on the desk.

Okay? What’s next? Do I start giving him a blow job or something?

He undid his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt but didn’t take it off. Sex pulsed from him. He leaned against the desk and gazed at me with such intensity that I thought my dress would melt away. “Let’s begin.”

Okay. Okay. You are ready.

I squirmed, wanting him to come touch me. My voice lowed to a lusty plea. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take off your dress.”

I parted my lips as my breath left me.

“You won’t be wearing too many clothes these next thirty days.”

Jean-Pierre was paying me, and it was a reasonable request.

I shivered, thinking about all the things he could make me do. I would do them. Anything, whatever he wanted, or close enough.

As long as it doesn’t hurt me.

I swallowed. I knew, intellectually, that at some point I would have to undress, but I hadn’t expected it to happen like this, with me standing in front of him, exposed, and him staring up at me so calmly, like he told girls to take off their dresses every day.

Maybe he did.

My hands trembled. I raised them and reached behind me.

“Hmmm,” he whispered. “Maybe I should help you.”

He walked over and got behind me. His warm breath brushed against my neck. Inch by inch, he lowered the zipper on my dress.

With my back exposed, he hissed.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Heat blazed in his eyes. “This tattoo is going to get you in trouble.”

I forgot he hadn’t seen it before. My back had been covered.

He moved the sides of the dress away, touched the back of my neck, and slipped his fingers down the tattooed violin strings on my spine. “Jesus.”

Under his touch, my body shivered with lust.

He left me.

Where did he go?

Shocked, I watched him return to his spot by the desk.

“Finish,” he whispered.

I pulled the sides of the dress down, revealing a candy red bra.

He widened his eyes. Those pupils appeared dilated.

I thought about what Shalimar had said earlier.

“He did offer 100k because you were you. That means something.”

“How much does he usual offer?”

“10k. So in the end, do what works for you. . .”

Confidence filled me. Wanting to tease a little, I pulled the dress down inch by inch.

Hissing, he gripped the desk. “Tentatrice.”

“Temptress.”

My body exploded in arousal. My breath quickened. My nipples stiffened. My pussy ached. My panties were soaked.

So far, so good.

I enjoyed this moment. He was letting me take my time and stay in control. He’d paid a lot. He could’ve ordered me to drop to my knees. There was no reason why my mouth shouldn’t have been stuffed with cock.

But Jean-Pierre watched me with an intense gaze, giving me a visual foreplay that no other man could pull off. And the moment was so hot. I loved how he stood there on the edge, but clothed. And I stood across from him, slowly stripping and almost exposed.

The top of the dress hit my waist.

I slid it down a little and then looked at him from beneath lowered eyelids. Leo had talked about fuck-me eyes. I gave him my best ones.

It worked.

Jean-Pierre licked his lips, leaned on the desk more, and spread his thighs apart. A big bulge pushed against his pants.

Damn.

He grunted. “Je veux voir plus.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“I want to see more.”

Inch by inch, I slipped the dress away, and the whole time he hissed at my slow-moving hands. I thought of Leo’s theory of seduction—how it was all about the lead-up to sex—the desire. And that sometimes, it was all in the eyes.

I even thought about Shalimar’s advice on confidence.

So, I gazed at him.

In my mind, I thought about all the ways I wanted him to fuck me. I pictured his naked muscular body over me, pounding hard into my pussy. And I wondered if he felt the sex pulsing from my gaze as he grunted and his lids half-closed.

Still, I remained slow and deliberate.

I kept eye contact, never straying away, always giving him the desire that I felt on the inside. If he really wanted to see my soul, if he really wanted to give me pleasure, then I would experience it all.

It’s going to be okay.

Hot anticipation blazed in his eyes.