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She doesn't stop playing as I approach. She merely shifts her position slightly, angling her body so I can see all of her. The violin sings under her touch, the notes flowing like honey, thick and sweet.
When I'm just a few feet away she uses the tip of her bow to point toward the kitchen counter where a high stool sits. The gesture is unmistakable—a command.
I almost laugh. Even naked and technically my prisoner, she's finding ways to control me.
I back up to the stool, never taking my eyes off her, and sit. The hard wood presses against my thighs, my hands gripping the edge of the seat to keep from reaching for her.
She continues playing, circling me slowly. The music changes—something faster now, more urgent. Her body moves with it, her hips swaying, breasts bouncing slightly with each sharp movement of the bow.
My breathing turns ragged. I've never seen anything like this—a woman using music as a weapon, as seduction. The fact that she's naked only amplifies the power of what she's doing. This isn't vulnerability. This is strength.
The melody builds toward something, each note more intense than the last. Her eyes never leave mine as she plays, and I see everything in them—anger, desire, confusion, need.
When the final note comes, it hangs in the air between us, vibrating with tension. She lowers the violin slowly, setting it carefully on the counter beside me.
Then she steps forward, positioning herself between my legs. I don't move, don't breathe. This is her show.
"You've been watching me for ten months," she says, her breath warm against my face. "Now I want to watch you."
She leans in, her lips brushing against mine. Not quite a kiss—just the promise of one. I remain still, letting her set the pace, even as every instinct screams at me to grab her, take her.
Her fingers trail up my thighs, over my chest, finally settling on either side of my face. She holds me there, studying me like I'm a puzzle she's trying to solve.
Then she kisses me.
Not gentle. Not hesitant. Her mouth crashes against mine with a hunger that matches my own. Her naked body presses against me, warm skin against my clothed chest.
The kiss deepens, and something wild unfurls inside me.
I don't recognize myself anymore. What part of me decided to provoke him like this? Maybe it's the same part that's been drawn to him since the moment he took me.
Noah breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged. "What are you doing to me?" he whispers against my mouth.
I don't answer. I don't know the answer.
His hands grip my waist suddenly, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. Before I can react, he sets me on the kitchen counter, the cool marble shocking against my bare skin.
I grip the edge of the counter. His eyes lock with mine, challenging, possessive. My breath catches in my throat.
"Noah—"
"Shut up," he commands, his voice rough. "You played for me. Now I play for you."
His mouth finds my clit and my head falls back with a gasp. He devours me like I'm his personal meal, like he's been starving for this exact taste. My fingers tangle in his dark hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.
Each stroke of his tongue sends electricity through my body. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, but Noah isn't having it.
"Let me hear you," he demands against my sensitive flesh. "I want to hear what I do to you."
When his tongue circles that perfect spot, I can't hold back anymore. A moan escapes my lips, echoing in the kitchen. I feel him smile against me, satisfied with my surrender.
I clutch Noah's hair as waves of pleasure crash through me. I've never been touched like this, never been consumed like this. His tongue works magic between my legs, making me forget everything—Ivan, the danger, even my own name.
"Noah," I gasp, my legs shuddering around his head.
In one swift motion he stands, spins me around, and positions me facing the counter. His chest presses against my back, his breath hot on my neck.
"Grab the counter," he commands, his voice rough with desire.