Highly Strung (Food Of Love 1)
He pushed his fingertips inside her and she opened up for them, rubbing her leg against Milan’s.
“Do you want me to take you now?” The words drifted over her skin.
“Are you…do you have something?”
“It’s okay. Evgeny!”
His imperious tone brought the cellist rushing across the room to hand over a condom from the dresser. Lydia watched him from the corner of her eye, noting the curious fascination in his face. He did not return to the chair but remained at the end of the bed, holding his cock in his hand and watching Milan apply the rubber.
“He can stay there?” asked Milan gently, lowering himself to crouch over Lydia, millimetres of humid air between their pelvises.
“Yeah.” His cock was lined up and ready. She was wet and pinned down beneath the legendary Milan Kaspar, about to be fucked by the greatest orchestral violinist in the world. She took a moment to drink it all in, then whispered, “Please…Milan.”
He seated himself swiftly, filling her. Her head swam and she moaned, wondering why it had never felt as good as this before. What was he doing that was different? Or was it just him, his magic touch, his artist’s consciousness?
Lydia brought a leg up over his hip and wrapped it around his buttocks, keeping him close to her. She held his shoulders, fingertips pressing into his firm flesh as he began, slowly at first, to thrust.
“You feel so good, Lydia, so tight,” he told her.
And the thought that this information could also be for Evgeny’s benefit made her moan aloud.
She looked up, seeing her face with its dewy blush and Milan’s lean back and powerful shoulders looming over it. God, what a sight that was. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, mesmerised by each back and forth motion of his thighs and bottom, the gluteal muscles tightening and releasing as Milan’s expert fucking took her higher and higher.
“How does it feel?” he panted, gathering speed.
“So good, oh, so good. Keep going, I’ve never had it like this…”
He growled and thrust harder, holding her by her hair so that trillions of endorphins sparked across her scalp.
“You’ll get it like this, oh yes, every day, every night, believe it.”
“Oh, God.” She began to whimper, the reflection on the ceiling blurring.
“We were right about her, Evgeny, she loves it.”
“I can see that.”
His rich Russian-accented voice, with its edge of dry humour, pushed her closer to the edge. She was being fucked and watched. He was taking notes for when he would fuck her himself. It was a monumental thought.
“Love it, Lydia, love it. We want to give it to you… We want to make you come…”
Milan’s fervent mutterings did the trick and she came, too overwhelmed to remember to look at herself in the mirror, twisting and turning beneath Milan’s strong body. He let himself go, releasing inside her, whipping his hair across his face.
He reared up, shoulders back, eyes alight, drawing a huge breath before breaking into laughter.
Lydia opened her eyes again, in time to see Evgeny join them on the bed, stroking his cock with breakneck speed. She stared from him to Milan and back again, squealing as warm semen jetted onto her belly and breasts, to her lover’s very obvious delight.
Later, lying cradled against Milan while Evgeny sponged off every last trace of semen with loving care, following up each dab with a kiss on the same spot, Lydia drew a coherent thread from the spinning wheel of her mind.
“Can this really work?”
“Of course it can,” said Milan, his chin resting on her head. “Don’t think about it. Just let it happen.”
“Just let it happen,” she repeated, smiling at Evgeny, who, for the first time, smiled back at her.
Upon arrival at the afternoon rehearsal, Lydia was aware of a buzz in the air.
She was also aware of a throbbing between her legs and a tight knot of excitement in her chest, but she tried her level best to ignore those.