I was impressed with Morte’s talent on the piano, but it was his initial appearance that stole the show. I had removed the ill-fitting jacket and rolled Morte’s sleeves to match my own at his elbows. Then I loosened his tie to hang open and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. It was a vast improvement. His shaggy hair I messed up skillfully with my big fingers and the artfully combed hair now looked messy and cool. Morte didn’t look so serious. He looked adorable.

A piano was already set up in the living room, although I no longer played that often. I occasionally caught a glance of Mure Linn as he watched the young boy. Morte’s lips were pinched as he concentrated on each stroke across the ebony and ivory keys. The room was filled with people sitting throughout the large space, and several stood around the edges, where I also found myself. My mother and Ana were in the official front row, made haphazardly by white wooden folding chairs that came from somewhere. Ana smiled with pride at Morte and let that smile fall when she looked at Guinevere.

Guinevere, on the other hand, was stunning in my opinion, and her musical talent was seconded only by her beauty. She was serene and focused as she played by closing her eyes and losing herself in the rhythm of stroking the bow across the strings of the instrument between her legs. As I watched her, it was a purely sensual experience for me. And, I found it harder and harder to disguise what was in my jeans. My hands in my pockets barely concealed the tightness. I wanted her beyond any woman I had ever wanted before. My bad mood the day before had dissipated the instant I saw her on the side of the road. My good mood restored completely when she threw that kiss at me in her room only minutes ago.

The crowd applauded politely and smiled as the small concert continued with Morte on the piano and Guinevere accompanying him. I felt at moments she was holding back in order to let Morte shine, and my heart filled more for her. She was truly an amazing woman. She put me in my place, and I deserved it, and then she took it one step further, by supporting Morte in this public manner. I wasn’t certain I could simply blurt out that Morte was my son, but I could certainly take on a more active role privately as his father.

I recognized another of my songs played in tandem by Morte and Guinevere, and it was Lansing who produced a guitar and added to the music from his own seat. The crowd seemed to grow in excitement as they recognized the chords and the enthusiasm grew with Lansing’d musical addition. Those gathered applauded loudly at the completion of the hit. Again, I smiled inwardly, that Guinevere knew another of The Nights’ songs.

At this point, Morte called for an encore, which was slightly out of character for the course of a piano recital. Usually, it was the audience that requested another round of music, but I could sense that this gathering was done with a child’s display despite his talent. Morte pushed forward, stating that it was Guinevere’s turn to play one song.

“She must get the chance to showcase her talent individually,” he said, as if a proud father and a demanding teacher. I had to shake my head, knowing it was a domineering mother who would have taught him this bold resolve.

Guinevere began the delicate stroke of string and the sultry stretch to produce the sound of “Hallelujah.” It was slow and seductive, yet peaceful and heart pounding at the same time. As Guinevere closed her eyes again, fully immersed in the music making, and clearly not holding back like she had with Morte, I noticed people starting to dab their eyes.

Tristan was sitting more upright than his previous slump in a corner of the couch at the edge of the room. Lansing was fully focused on Guinevere, transfixed at the movement of her hands. Perk was the one to make eye contact with me, raising an eyebrow in questioning amazement. Kaye watched with pride, but Mure Linn quietly exited the room.

I looked back at Guinie. She was amazing. She was devoted and talented. Focused and transforming. I suddenly couldn’t look away. I fidgeted again with the need to have her physically, but not only because I wanted to feel her body, I wanted to be able to touch her goodness. She had an ability to make me feel things I hadn’t felt before and I wanted to feel more of again and again.

She rocked with the rising crescendo and fell with the slow, drowning conclusion, pausing for a moment before opening her eyes. There was a solid bright gleam of sapphires from those eyes and the glow of her cheeks emphasized the intensity. The room paused with her for a moment before letting out a collective breath and applauding frantically. Tristan and Perk stood from their seats at the back and called her name, cheering loudly as if at a rock concert. My heart swelled with pride at my friends and their support of my girl.

My girl. That’s what I felt. She belonged to me. With me. For me. And I would do everything to make her feel the same about me.

I felt a guilty relief when Ana refused to let Morte spend the night again. I silently concurred that the day had been a long one. Although I was proud of the breakthroughs I felt I made with Morte, I was drained from the constant interaction. I couldn’t build, or repair, the relationship in one night. I did promise Morte another night soon, and I reassured him that I wouldn’t break that promise. I knew Guinevere wouldn’t let me.

I walked her to her room as I had the night before, but this time I followed her inside when she entered her door. She didn’t tell me to leave and I took this as silent invitation to stay, regardless of the adjoining door’s opening. Her back was still to me and I reached for her bare shoulders, massaging them slightly. Her head leaned forward and I used my strong fingers to work up her tight neck muscles.

“Why so tense?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know I was, but that feels wonderful,” she moaned, as I continued to work up her neck and into the base of her hair. Pressing firmly, squeezing her skin, I stepped closer. She moaned again, and I pressed my body against her back. As I continued to massage, I began to nibble at her neck, holding her hair up high against her head. She leaned back into me and we stood as counter balances.

I let my massaging hand drop to her waist, continuing to kiss the side of her neck. When Guinevere tilted her head to allow me better access to her warm skin, I used my hands to slide around her stomach and press her against me, feeling her ass brush sharply across my tight front. She rocked back into me and I groaned into her skin then watched it rise with goose bumps in excitement. I gently bit her at the juncture where her shoulder and neck joined, then licked the spot to sooth the sting. Finally, I blew on that space and Guinevere shivered against me.

“Let me stay the night?” I whispered in her ear.

“Arturo … I don’t…” She stopped speaking for a moment as I bit her again, followed by the lick and blow.

“Just let me stay. If all I do is hold you, it will be enough.”

She turned in my arms, letting her hip brush along my firmness again, and slid her hands slowly up the front of my shirt before wrapping her hand in my tie. Oh, the things I will do to her with that tie when she is ready. I would let her do the same to me, but tonight I promised to hold her. I would let my own hands be the bonds.

One of her hands slipped to the top button of my shirt and slowly she began to unbutton. She looked unsure and I noticed the innocent shaking of her fingers as she worked the small holes. I wouldn’t last two more seconds at this torturous rate. When she had three undone, I reached behind my head and tugged the dress shirt with tie and undershirt in one pull to expose my bare chest. I needed skin contact.

I shivered when she stared at me like she was right now. She smoothed her hand over my warm skin, slowly mapping out each hill and valley of my taut abs up to my solid chest, over my smooth shoulders, and then traveled down each arm. She seemed torn which arm to measure with her eyes as she glanced over my tattoos again before letting her fingers draw lazily over the sword.

“This is so beautiful,” she whispered. “I don’t have any, as you know.”

“What would you get if you did?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

I leaned forward to brush my lips against hers. This wasn’t going to be the consuming kiss of earlier. I was going to take my time with her and explore as much of her as she would offer. I began by running delicate fingertips up her arms to the thick straps of her dress, slipping my fingers under each shoulder piece and pulling them in opposite directions. I kept my eyes fixed on her sapphire blues. The glow had not left them from earlier this night and now in the low light of her room they seemed to gleam brighter with her desire.

When she didn’t stop me, I continued to drag each strap until her shoulders were exposed, but the bend in her elbows kept the dress from releasing her breasts.

“You don’t have on a bra?” I swallowed in the sudden knowledge that she hadn’t had anything underneath this dress all night.

“It cuts too low,” she replied. Another fact I already knew as I let my eyes travel the exposed skin between her breasts over and over again, wishing it was my tongue. On that thought, I bent slightly and let my tongue trace the delicacy I had desired all evening. I pushed her elbows gently to straighten and allow the dress bodice to fall the remainder of the way, giving her breasts the freedom I craved.

I pulled back to admire her.

“You are so beautiful,” I sighed, before pressing her backward to the edge of the bed.

“Only as far as you want to go,” I reminded her in an authoritative voice. I knew she was innocent, but willing; however, I didn’t know how willing.

She nodded in acknowledgement and stopped when her legs hit the edge of the bed. The top of her body was fully revealed to me but I wanted to see all of her. I let my hands move from her arms to her waist and slipped the material over her hips. There was no zipper, it was simply gathered at her waist and stretched easily over her hips, cascading like a waterfall to the floor. I audibly gulped when I saw the thin fabric that barely covered her mound.

“What is that?” I swallowed. She laughed softly, knowing I recognized the material, but seeing the translucent lace stretched across her dark mound of hair, my jeans reached a new level of tightness.

“Sit down,” I demanded softly and Guinie scooted onto the bed. She crawled like she was going to the center, but I wanted her on the edge. I ran my hands up her thighs then gripped them firmly for a moment to still her movement.

“Stay here,” I rasped as I knelt in front of her. Her eyes opened wide.

“This okay?” I asked as I slid one hand up to her center and under the thin strip of material, entering her quickly with a finger in hopes she would say yes.

She nodded before speaking.

“I’ve never…” She blushed and I saw it start at her breasts and warmly spread across her neck. I took one of her breasts into my mouth in hopes to capture that glow as I worked another finger into her. She instinctively opened her legs farther. I moved forward on my knees to be aligned with her body and hugged by her thighs.

I licked a trail to the other breast and Guinie groaned as she finally placed her fingers in my hair, working a massaging rhythm along my scalp, holding me in place against her breast. I used my tongue to tickle her nipple, then my mouth took her flesh inside and I moistened her before pulling back to blow softly against the sensitive skin and watch the pinkness stand at attention. Delicious, I thought, but my mind wandered to another sweet treat and I began a slow descent over her stomach.

“Grab the pillow and place it behind you.” I watched as Guinie reached for the pillow then shoved it behind her lower back and leaned on her elbows.

I was still working between her legs and I used my free hand to smooth over her thin stomach. “Perfect,” I growled as my second hand slid down to join the first. Pushing her thighs wider, I continued with my finger assault as I blew against her wetness.

“Arturo,” she sighed, and tried to squeeze her legs together.

“Want me to stop?” I blew into her again.

She immediately opened her thighs and I laughed softly before placing my lips on her. Going down on her was like making out with another part of her body. I used my lips to suck her, and my tongue to massage her, and my fingers continued to work at the nub that seemed to bring her the fullest pleasure. I nipped then slipped my tongue inside her folds, holding her open with my fingers and drinking in her wetness. She was excited and I could feel the walls of her begin to contract. The release was coming.

“Arturo?” she questioned on a moan. I knew she had never experienced this before, and she didn’t know what to expect. This made my mission all the sweeter as I continued to tease the pleasure from her. Her legs stiffened then held still. I smiled against her knowing that this was her sign she was coming. I liked that I could recognize this about her and that I was the one to cause it to happen.

“Arturo, Arturo, Arturo,” she whisper-groaned as her head fell back and her eyes closed. Naked, laying back in ecstasy, she was a vision of seduction and possession in one. I unbuttoned my own jeans as I continued to slow my motions with her steady climb downward.

When I looked up at her, her eyes were opened wide and she was staring at me.

“Did you like that?” I addressed between her legs before meeting her gaze.

“Teach me how to do that to you.”

My God, I thought as I stood and finished removing my jeans. She’s going to kill me with her willingness.