Page 22 of Crescendo
Lydia
Ella didn’t play fair, because she went and said something like oh, it could just be once, just for tonight, and then I wake up in the morning to find her in the kitchen, cooking up breakfast for the two of us without pants on, and I’m supposed to stick to that?
I hadn’t been inclined to in the first place. Melinda made a good point that I’d been looking for a mix-up, and that art came from passion, so I might as well chase what passion looked like for me right now to see what came from it.
And Ella made a very good point when she walked into the room and started grinding on my lap.
I leaned against the counter, folding my arms, taking a minute just to admire the scene—Ella with headphones on listening to something on her phone, leaning on the range cooking an omelet, and a very nice pair of legs.
She had a bit of a curve to her figure, and the swell of her thighs rising into her hips, emerald-green underwear sitting snugly on warm-hued skin with freckles dotted just below the band…
she looked even better in the daylight than she had in the low glow of the lights in my room last night.
“Good morning,” I said softly, and she jumped just a little, turning back to me with a brilliant smile, slipping her headphones off.
“Good morning,” she said, her eyes flicking down over my body. That was something I could get used to. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mm. Fantastically. I always sleep well when I’ve had a really good night.
And you?” I said, stepping closer, pushing my luck a little by stepping in close enough our hips almost met, laying a hand on her hip as she tilted her head up to look at me.
She blushed brilliantly, but she held my gaze with a smile.
“I had some very nice dreams,” she said.
“Oh yes?”
“Mm. You were there.”
Well, that sounded lovely. I slipped a hand up under her shirt, teasing at the band of her underwear, suddenly very convinced she didn’t need them. “Was I doing anything interesting? Trying to compose but realizing I don’t know what I’m doing with anything?”
She smiled wider. “You certainly seemed to know what you were doing.”
I tucked my hand inside her underwear, slipping around to grip her ass. Firmer than I’d expected. Doctors did a lot of walking. I wasn’t complaining. “And you certainly seemed to know a thing or two for someone who’s apparently been out of the game a while…”
She ducked her head with a nervous laugh. “Maybe it’s just… easier with some excellent inspiration at hand.”
I slipped my free hand up to caress the base of her neck, and just when she softened and arched into it with a quiet noise, I swiped my other hand inside her underwear, around to the front to brush through the short, coarse hairs right above where I’d been last night, and when she made a small gasp against me, I pulled back, stepping away, taking my hands off her.
“Maybe this excellent inspiration should stop distracting you while you’re making breakfast, then,” I said, fighting a laugh. “We wouldn’t want you going hungry.”
“God, Lydia, you are such a tease,” she groaned, rolling her eyes with an exasperated smile, as she turned back to the stovetop. “But fine, then, if you want to get me riled up and not do anything about it, then at least put the kettle on.”
“I like it when you get bossy.”
She flashed brilliant white teeth at me. “Make me a damn cuppa, then, Lydia.”
This girl had me thoroughly suckered in. Trouble all the way through. I didn’t mind.
I made tea for us both—I really needed to figure out a way to get some decent coffee, because I was starting to miss it, but I’d die before I let myself settle for the Nescafe instant schlock in the cabinet—as Ella finished up breakfast, serving two plates for us both to sit side-by-side, and we flirted relentlessly through the whole meal, my hand sneaking under the table to trace patterns on her deliciously bare thigh.
I felt like I’d burn a hole through the chair by the time we finished our food, and I didn’t wait long—I guided Ella up out of her seat and forward to straddle my lap, where she settled on me with a satisfied sigh, her eyelids fluttering.
She rocked her hips against me the second I had her there, and even though I knew we had to talk, I didn’t stop her.
Quite the contrary—gripped my hands on her ass and encouraged the movement, looking at where her peach-toned nipples showed through her white shirt just below my eye level.
“We should probably figure this thing out,” I said idly, and Ella’s fingers gripped tighter on my upper arms, not slowing her movement on my lap.
“The problem of all this fabric between us?”
“Mm, I don’t know. I like seeing how desperate you get.”
“God, Lydia,” she groaned, hanging her head. I could feel her underwear starting to get wet, hot against my pajama pants. “Do I have to beg? Because I’ll beg.”
“Truth be told—I’m not good at casual,” I said, and she paused, looking up at me through that ragged expression.
“Are you saying you don’t want to do this?”
“That’s definitely not it. I’m not good at casual because I’m very… all-in with feelings. Maybe you’ve noticed that about me. I’m not good at keeping it just casual.”
“Ah…” She looked away, a blush tinging her cheeks again. I slipped my hands to the inside of her thighs, stroking softly, and she let out a perfect little whimper.
“That’s why I was trying not to do this, but… turns out you have quite an effect on me. And after last night, I don’t think either of us can not do this.”
“Likewise… as evidenced, I suppose, by this,” she said, gesturing lightly to the present state of things, her grinding in my lap.
She spoke in this breathless haze that was indescribably sexy, like she was already gone and just needed to get fucked before she could come back, and I guess I had no choice but to be a good friend and oblige.
“Likewise in that I, er—I’ve never been one for casual.
But I cannot, for the life of me, ignore this…
ignore you, Lydia. God, I’d be kicking myself forever if I had the chance to do this with you—for months —and didn’t take it. ”
“So, casual,” I said, slipping my hands up inside her shirt. “We should figure out what that looks like, if we’re both prone to taking it too far…”
“Is now the moment for this conversation?”
“Mm, yes. I like seeing you desperate and panting for me.”
“ Lydia, ” she groaned, hanging her head, but the way she bucked her hips against me when I said that implied that she did not remotely mind.
I moved my hands up under her shirt, cupping her breasts, massaging them softly, and she moaned quietly as I teased my thumbs over her nipples. “We should keep this between us… I think it’ll start to feel too serious to me if other people know about it.”
“I mean—I-I think my friend Sian already knows.”
“Pretty sure a couple people have a strong suspicion. Probably the way you look at me like I’m the only person in a room. But just… nothing too coupley in public.”
“Just a dirty secret for dark rooms, huh,” she said dryly, and I pulled my hands out from under her shirt and cupped her face, tilting her to look me in the eye.
“The problem,” I said, my voice low, “is that you, Ella Hendrickson, are a brilliant creative, a sharp mind, incredibly charming and stunningly, incandescently beautiful, and every time I look at your eyes, I lose myself. And I have to do everything I can not to get too attached. You understand that, right?”
I’d thought she was red when I had her grinding in my lap teasing her desperate to get fucked. That was nothing compared to how much she lit up for me now, eyes wide. “Ah—er. Well. That is…”
“If you don’t understand,” I said, shifting in closer, “then I’ll have to make you understand.”
I kissed her—pressed my lips up against hers, claiming her, and I slipped my hands into her hair, holding her against me, feeling her melt into the kiss, meeting me just as passionately.
Her hands roamed my sides before slipping down my back, falling into me with a long, slow kiss, and she looked like she was in a living daydream when she pulled back, a hazy smile on her pretty face.
“You are… terribly romantic, you know, Lydia,” she said softly.
“Terribly romantic, stunningly talented, shockingly attractive, I know, I know.”
She laughed. “Ah, dammit. Why does it turn me on when you act like that?”
I tousled her hair. “Well, if I went and got you turned on, I guess I ought to do something about that, shouldn’t I?”
She bit her lip. “Oh, you’re just now thinking that, are you?”
“Do you want to go to the bed, Ella?”
She paused, hanging there in the moment, before she ground her hips on me again. “Not particularly,” she said quietly. “It’s awfully far.”
“Hm. You make a good point.” I slipped a hand down between the two of us, pressing up against the damp fabric of her underwear, and she moaned softly, gripping her fingers tighter against me.
I pulled her into a kiss, deeper this time, tongues touching, as she rocked her hips against my hand, grinding, seeking friction.
It was a relief when I finally pushed her up to her feet and tugged her underwear down, dropping it around her ankles as she stripped her shirt up over her head, and I turned and guided her to sit in the chair while I sank onto my knees in front of her.
She gasped loudly, moaned, cursed desperately in between breathing my name, and—her pretty, crisp Londoner accent gasping my name while she rocked her hips against my mouth, I was very much a fan of how it sounded.