I wasn’t really used to open displays of affection, and certainly not the public displays of affection produced by the redhead on Tristan’s lap or the mouth-swallowing kiss of Lansing with Elaine. I tried to ignore Lansing by keeping my focus intently on Arturo. When he kissed me before his friends, it was so sweet and brief. I almost embarrassed myself by continuing to kiss him, but I wasn’t sure he wanted to be so public with me. After all, he did pull back quickly.

As the foursome left, the quiet of the night enveloped us in a cocoon. Our surroundings were so dark, with only the glow and warmth of the fire in the circular pit at our feet. The sky was cloudless and the stars shone in abundance. I recognized a few constellations, but I wasn’t familiar with many. Being raised in the city, it was hard to see stars at night, and I could only recall a few from the astronomy course I took as a seminar in college.

“Why didn’t you go to Juilliard?” Arturo interrupted my connecting the dots in the sky.

“I don’t know. I could have, I suppose, but the MMC was alternative and different. And, my father wanted me to get a more well-rounded education. He liked that they offered courses in something other than just music or music-related fields, but still had some tie-in to music.” I shrugged to brush off my answer. I had wanted Juilliard, but I never thought I would be good enough. I hadn’t bothered to apply when my father began to talk about the Metropolitan Music College. It seemed trendy versus traditional.

“You really are very good,” he said softly as he kissed my bare shoulder, sending a shiver over my warm skin.

“Not good enough, though,” I whispered, but loud enough that he heard me.

“You don’t really want to play for a stuffy orchestra, Guinie.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“If you went to a trendy music school, and you can play rock ballads on a cello, you aren’t as uptight as you might come across. As a matter of fact, I think there’s a lioness inside just waiting to spring out of you.” His voice was confident, as if he knew me so well.

When I thought about it though, he did seem to know me. I did feel bottled inside lately, and I was rethinking what I wanted to do. I had been slightly tempted by his offer of the 4G group, but Mel Agent had offered the New York Symphony Orchestra. I couldn’t think of Mel. His offer came with too many strings attached, and they weren’t from my cello.

“I have thought about your offer with the 4Gs,” I said softly, but his response startled me. He whipped his body in my direction and placed his hands on either side of my hips.

“And?” he said hopefully.

“I think I would like to audition,” I raised a hand to cut him off from his excitement, “but I want the job honestly. I don’t want it because I’m Leo’s daughter or your … whatever … I just want to audition, and if they like me, they like me.”

He leaned in and kissed me forcefully, taking my breath away for a moment, like the wind had been knocked out of me, before he pulled back just as abruptly.

“What do you mean, my whatever?”

I returned his glare, but refused to answer. I didn’t know how to label what I felt, or rather I knew what to label it for myself, but not what to label it for him. I was at great risk of having my heart broken. I knew it. He was too smooth with words. Too gentle with his touches. Too powerful with his kisses. He would consume me and spit me out. He probably wouldn’t be unkind, but he would be done with me. For now, I felt more like a mouse played with by a cat than the lioness, but I couldn’t get myself to mind when he kissed me like he just did.

He was still looking at me, waiting for an answer, but I continued in my refusal to speak.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably wrong,” he said as he leaned in and placed his lips on mine. As quickly as he kissed me, he pulled back again.

“Unless what you are thinking is good, and then you might be right,” he said with a laugh before reclaiming my lips.

“So right,” he said against my mouth without missing a beat in the kiss. We continued in this manner of lips locked, tongues tied, and hands slowly roaming when Arturo pulled me to his lap, forcing me to straddle him. I broke the kiss as I righted myself over his legs, pulling up the dress that tangled in his struggle to get me over him. His eyes watched me as I tugged the light summery material upward, and I saw him swallow as I parted my legs over his.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen my legs before. We had spent a day on the lake and one in the pool, both of which I was barely clothed in my tiny bikinis. But he watched my display, and clenched and unclenched his fingers, before placing them on my hips.

I paused for a moment before I made the next move. It was my turn to lean toward him and hold his stubbly cheeks between my hands before pressing a powerful kiss of my own to his lips. He was an eager responder to my attack and pulled me closer so my middle cradled him between my legs. I pressed down on him and his hands slid up my sides to the edge of my bandeau-styled top. He slipped a finger in one side as if testing me for refusal. I didn’t refuse.

As his finger slid to the top of my breast, the distraction made me suck in a breath when he palmed my other one. He massaged my breast, slipping his hand down so it covered me before he pulled at the light material to make my nipple firm and peaked.

“Cold?” He smiled against my lips.

“No.” I shivered and wiggled against the seam of his jeans.

“Let me see,” he softly groaned and pulled the top of my dress down to my waist in one tug.

I should have felt exposed. We were outside, again in the open air, and despite the quiet sound of the crackling fire and the soft noise of crickets, I felt like all the world could see me. But it was dark, and Arturo’s gaze was so passionate and worshipful, I couldn’t feel ashamed. I actually sat up a littler straighter and he returned his hands to lovingly caress me while I watched his tattooed hands work over my sensitive skin. I began to grind my hips a little more against him.

“If I made you come with just a kiss the other day, Guinie, my beautiful, what will it be like if I only do this to you?”

I wanted to tell him not to be crass, but I was lost to the feel of his hands on my breasts. The squeeze where I felt full and the tug where I was tight sent a pulse down between my legs.

“My Guinie is so beautiful when she is close,” he whispered, as he stared at his own handiwork before he leaned forward and took one of my breasts into his warm, moist mouth. The pleasure of him nipping at me was almost painful and I squeaked as I bucked against him. He placed both hands on my hips, sliding me back and forth on him, while he continued with his hot mouth on my soft, pink areola. He moved to my other breast, and I slid my fingers into his hair, gently holding his head to keep his lips on me as I pressed down on him.

“Arturo,” I whispered and his fingers dug into my hipbones. He began to push the material of my dress upward, rutting it up in his fists until he could get his hands underneath it. His warm fingers against my dampening skin sent another shiver up my spine, and Arturo released my breast.

“Guinie,” he said, as he looked directly at me. “Let me touch you.”

My only response was to slide my hands down to his shoulders and tug myself harder onto him. He undid the top button of his jeans. I stared at his fingers as they snapped the material open, but he moved his fingers then to tortuously walk up my thighs, and disappear under the yellow skirt of my dress, only to brush against wet material between my legs.

“You’re soaked. For me,” he choked as his fingers fiddled across my most sensitive area. I imagined he touched me like he strummed his guitar. He repeated the motion several times outside my panties before slipping a finger inside the elastic, and inside of me. I had never felt anything like it before. No man had touched me like this. I hadn’t lied when I told him I’d never had an orgasm. I hadn’t, but I had rubbed against others, to never find the release.

I had never let someone in my pants before and the sensation was overwhelming me. I felt the buildup and the pulsing was so fierce, it was like a drumbeat in my underwear. His finger filled me, and yet, I ached for more. He fulfilled that need immediately with another finger.

“You’re so tight, Guinie,” he groaned at me. He opened his mouth to say something else, but clamped his lips shut instead. He leaned forward and took my mouth, inserting his tongue, working it like he worked my lower body with his fingers. In and out. In and out.

I couldn’t breathe and had to pull back from the kiss. I felt myself rocking uncontrollably on his fingers, using my hands on his shoulders to both steady myself and leverage my body against him.

“That’s it again, Guinie. Take it, beautiful girl.”

I exploded at his soft voice that mumbled against my neck with small kisses. He worked me harder, adding his thumb against the nub that acted like a switch for my excitement. In the darkness I saw fireworks and the sensation of heat came from my toes. Literally, I curled my toes as I stiffened my legs and captured the release. I continued to squirm on his fingers; feeling like the display of pleasure would never end until I felt it begin again.

“Arturo,” I gasped like I was taking in water. I couldn’t get air in my lungs as the sensation climbed again.

“Arturo?” I wasn’t coming down like I had the other day. It was frenzy between my legs, and I had to have it again.

“One more,” Arturo growled as he worked his fingers faster, in and out, in and out. I could smell the sweet scent of myself and I knew I was dripping with wetness. He pressed his thumb to me and flicked it. Once. Twice. Thrice.

I screamed his name and leaned forward, stifling the sound in his neck. My teeth were bared, but I didn’t bite him, only set my open mouth on the spot between his neck and shoulder. I gripped his biceps as I felt the release spiral out of me and onto his fingers. I eventually relaxed, slumping against him and sliding my arms around his neck to hold him in an embrace.

Eventually, I let one hand fall down his chest, lazily bumping up and down the hills and valleys of his taunt abs until I reached that open spot on his jeans.

He grabbed my wrist.

“Guinevere,” he said in warning, but I ignored him. I put my forehead on his shoulder in a way that I could look down at my own hand. I smacked away the grip on my wrist and kissed his chest above his heart before unzipping his jeans entirely. I was shocked to find he was bare. Commando style.

I looked up at him.

“A bit of a foregone conclusion, aren’t I?” He smiled. “Or maybe just hopeful?”

I wrapped my hand around his now-freed shaft and he closed his eyes. He wiggled his hips and pulled the jeans down a little more to release himself completely. Sensing my hesitation, he placed his hand over mine and wrapped his hand firmer around my delicate touch.

“You won’t hurt me. Hold tight,” he said. He wasn’t demanding, he was teaching, and although I should have been embarrassed by my lack of experience, I wasn’t. With his eyes closed and his head tipped back, holding my hand, guiding me around him, I felt like I had all the experience in the world. I was bringing this great man pleasure. He released his own hand to place it lazily on my hip and looked down to watch my hurried movements. When he looked up at me, I had to hold the gasp. His eyes were black.

“What are you doing to me, Guinevere?” he groaned in a raspy voice. I pulled and tugged and massaged until a spurt of liquid escaped him. I used it to moisten him and make my hand slip over his warm, smooth skin. He captured my lips in one of those surprise attack kisses I was growing used to and enjoying too much. Just as he worked me with mouth and fingers, I worked him. I felt his breath hitch in my mouth before he pulled back and grunted my name.

“Fuck, Guinevere,” he said before I felt the warm release over my hands. Not knowing what else to do, I tried to capture some of the liquidy substance and continued to use it to lubricate him further. He stopped my hand abruptly.

“Enough. I can’t take anymore,” he sighed, as he closed his eyes again and let his head fall back on the cushion.

I slowly removed my hand, uncertain what to do next. Arturo placed a hand behind his head and tugged off his T-shirt. He wiped my hand in a caress, holding it gently in his own. Then he used the shirt to wipe himself off and secretly tuck himself away. He ran a hand through his own hair before reaching his fingers into mine.

“Come here,” he whispered, as he gently tugged me forward and kissed me softly for a moment before pulling back to stare into my eyes.