Chapter Forty-Two - Ixion
I can’t stop myself. The beauty in this room is overwhelming. Not just the song she’s playing. It’s not just Ave Maria coming from the soul of one of the world’s most talented violinists, it’s her too. Her sweet face, her innocence, her large, soft breasts, the shape of her waist and hips and the tickling touches of her long hair as it brushes across my arms as she gives me what I wanted since the first time I met her—I just didn’t realize it.
Herself. With no expectations. Blind and willing.
Her pussy is wet, her clit swelling under my touch the same way my cock is now filled with longing.
Her legs open wider, the weight of her body on my legs silently driving me wild.
I can’t wait any longer.
Reluctantly, I take my touch from her to me. Open my belt, open my pants, and fist my cock as I pull it out.
She shivers. Like she knows what I’m doing even though she’s blind. “Yes,” she murmurs.
I don’t need her encouragement, but I do like it. Leaning back into the cushions to get a better view forces her to shift her weight. I pump one hand up and down my cock as the other returns to her open and exposed pussy. If she could only see herself. How beautiful she is. How perfect. If ever there was a moment that needed to be caught on film, this is it.
But a wave of regret washes over me. Because no latent image could ever capture the stunning brilliance of her in real time.
She turns her back to me, but not in a dismissive way. Because she edges her ass up my lap until my cock is between her legs. She lifts her hips, her fingers still playing the soundtrack to the lust building inside us.
She hovers over me, her pussy rubbing against the tip of my cock.
I can’t wait any longer. She is urging me to take her and I just want to please in this moment. I want nothing more than to give her what she wants.
My cock slips inside her, but she pulls back, looking over her shoulder, and stops playing. “No,” she whispers. “I’ve had that before. Take me in a new way, Ix. Be the first ever to take me in that way.”
I have to blink, several times, as the realization of what she’s asking for manifests.
Her ass. She wants me to fuck her in the ass.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice thick with husk and growl, betraying the hunger inside me.
“Yes,” she says. “Yes.”
“Then stand up,” I say.
She obeys, resumes playing the soft, slow song as she rises off my lap. I kick her legs wide, her bow still sliding across the strings, and then sink to my knees, pull her ass cheeks apart, and lick her. My fingers drag the now pooling readiness from her pussy to her asshole, and I slowly stick my finger in.
She never stops playing. But she whines, and grunts, and when my finger is all the way inside her, she whimpers, “More.”
She is so wet now, so eager for what’s coming next, that her asshole is well primed when I sit back in the chair, place her on my lap, and press my cock up against her tight muscles.
Her music turns wild and frantic, her bow skipping across the strings, her fingers jumping on the neck.
And then I enter her.
She moans. A whimpering moan that’s equal parts pain and pleasure. I hike her legs open, totally exposing her, and pull her back into my chest, my hands cupping her perfect, round breasts, and squeeze them, just as she clenches her muscles and squeezes me back.
Dying. I am dying of pleasure.
I close my eyes, let my hands wander back between her legs, strumming her clit, as she becomes more comfortable with my cock inside her ass, and begins to move—just a little, just enough to drive me crazy.
One hand goes to her hip, urging her to fuck me harder. Urging her to let me even deeper inside her, while my fingers push up inside her pussy, stretching her wide from both ends.
“Oh, my God,” she moans.
And she never.
Stops.
Playing.
“I want to see you,” I say, urging her to turn around. “And I want you to see me. Take off the fucking blindfold.”
“No,” she says, her song slow again. “No. Not yet.”
So I have to settle. I have to settle for fucking her in the ass, her back to me, her song filling my ears, her long hair teasing my chest as it lightly crashes onto my skin like feathers in a wind storm.
But there are worse ways to settle.
“Come,” I say, my thumb finding her slit as I push my fingers deeper. “Come on my fingers right now.”
She lets out one long breath, her body stiff for a moment, her bow stuck mid-air, her fingers still… and then she melts into me. Gushing relief spills out of her, coats my fingers, spilling past them, and drips down onto my cock.
I have to bite my fucking lip to stop my own climax.
She falls forward, drops the violin on the floor, and places her hands on my knees as she pants through the waves of pleasure that overtake her body.
I make myself wait. It can’t end yet. I’m not ready.
She takes all the decisions away from me when she stands up, my cock slipping out of her ass, and then turns around, gets on her knees between my legs, takes my cock in her hand, and lowers her mouth to it.
No hesitation. No overthinking. No resistance at all. Willing to lose herself in the moment. Willing to do anything and everything to keep this dream going.
I die.
I die over and over again as she licks my tip, wraps her lips around my swollen head, and then pushes my cock deep into her throat.
There is no way I can’t come. No chance I won’t explode.
I grab her hair, guiding her mouth, pushing her down onto my cock until her nose is almost flat against my stomach. She gags, gasps for breath, and then tilts her head up like she’s looking me in the eyes.
I want to rip that blindfold off and see her. Really fucking see her.
But she’s reading my mind, or maybe she’s telling me no, she can’t continue like this, I’m suffocating her with my cock, because she shakes her head.
I lift her face off me and come all over her mouth.
Her hands crash onto my chest, pulling at my t-shirt, clawing her way up my body until she’s sitting in my lap again, her legs straddling mine, and she kisses me on the mouth.
I kiss her back. Long, and hard, and desperate. I hold her face and she says, “Not yet,” when I think, Take off that fucking blindfold. “Not yet.”
“If not tonight? If not now… then when?” I say. “When?”
She just shakes her head again, her body becoming soft, and then slips off to the side, pulling me over with her, until we’re nestled up to each other, her ass pushing against my cock, her back pushing into my chest, like we’re a couple.
I smile.
Because tonight, we are.
We sleep. I’m not sure how long, because it’s still dark outside when I pick her up in my arms and carry her up to her bedroom. She moans, and even though that stupid blindfold slips off her eyes, she never opens them. It’s like she’s afraid to see me.
Which is perfect, right? Just fucking perfect. Because I am desperate for her to see me. I am desperate to be seen. And she wants to keep me invisible.
Once she’s settled in bed, I kiss her on the lips. She wakes just long enough to kiss me back, her fingertips threading into my hair, grabbing me, making me feel wanted, and then lets go, rolls over, and sleeps.
I reluctantly leave her. Go downstairs, find our book and begin to write the end I started and couldn’t finish.
Because this is it. Our stories have been told, her fear has been banished, and my job here is done.
I leave our book on the kitchen counter where she expects it to be, then take myself back downstairs, enter the secret room, and stare at the ceiling until the sun comes up.