No Strings Attached (6 page)

He didn't have to ask twice. I may have been a little clumsy on my feet, but I managed to do as I was told, pressing my palms against the wall for support as much as to keep my breasts from resting against the cool surface.

Foil tore, and my body tensed at the thought of him rolling the condom on his hard shaft. Having him deep inside me.

Behind me, Thayre rested a hand on my hip while he used the other, I assume, to guide himself to me. I shuddered as he parted my pussy lips with a finger, teasing my overly sensitive clit as he nipped at the nape of my neck. Kissed along my spine.

I was so focused on the way his kiss forced goosebumps all over my body he caught me off guard when he pressed the head of his cock against my cunt. I bowed my head and thrust my hips at him, whimpering as he slowly slipped inside.

“Fuck, you're tight,” he whispered in my ear, placing both hands on my hips as he drove himself deeper.

He felt amazing. Maybe it was because I came first, but he filled me better than I could recall any man doing before. Every delicious stroke he made hit against my g-spot. Electricity crackled along nerve endings, closing the gap between now and the next orgasm that much more. Without reaching to touch it, I could tell my clit was hard.

I ached to play with myself, to send myself into orbit, but not until I knew Thayre could join me. He grunted and—
fuck
—he wrapped my ponytail around one hand and pulled. Hard.
Not hard enough.

I licked my lips and tested the air in my lungs. “Harder,” I almost sobbed, my body trembling beneath him.

“What part, your hair or—”

“Both. Oh my God, both. Please.”

“Pain slut,” he teased, his grip on my hair tightening as he drew my head back on his shoulder. He dipped his head and kissed under my chin. “I have the most wonderful view of your breast. You know that, right?” Another pause. “And I bet you like it when someone twists those little nips of yours.”

I managed a nod before Thayre reached around me with his free hand to fondle my breasts. He slowed his thrusts while his hand pulled my hair and his fingers pinched at my nipple. Tugging at it. Twisting it. I moaned and gasped for breath as he kissed behind my ear. Bit the side of my neck. Every breath he took, every thrust, every time he teased my breasts, I got that much closer to losing it all over again.

My pussy tensed and clamped around his cock, stealing his breath as much as he took my own.

He yanked on my hair until I yelped. “You like that, don't you?”

Something in his voice changed. It was more commanding. Challenging. And I loved every minute of it.

“Would you like me to do it again?” he asked, releasing my hair enough to keep my neck from going stiff.

“Please.”

“Well, I'm not—not yet.” He smiled against my neck. “Because I want you to finish again before I do.”

Oh God.
I always thought climaxing more than once in any given evening with a guy was an urban legend, but I could see Thayre planned on busting that myth ten times over. And I couldn't get enough.

He released my hair, and while still twisting my nipples and biting my neck, he very gently started to tease my hard clit. Everything about this man and sex didn't match his calm, artistic demeanor at all. He was aggressive. Demanding. And while I had a feeling he'd have stopped if I'd asked him to, I couldn't. I didn't dare.

With my hair free from his grasp, I bowed my head and closed my eyes, thrusting at him with every stroke he made. He pressed harder on my clit, circling it faster with every pass, and I found myself thrusting into his palm almost as much as I pushed back to feel his cock as deep as it could go.  

My legs shook. My arms weren't far behind. Thayre must've sensed me losing my balance, so he removed the hand from my breast to wrap his arm around my waist.

“You're close, aren't you?” he asked in a deep, unrecognizable voice.

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth.

“I can feel it—your orgasm building.” He took a breath. “You're getting tighter. But if I could keep you here, just like this, I would.”

I didn't doubt it. Regardless of how out of his mind he may have been in the basement, he had more control now than he should ever have. He had enough willpower to keep himself in check, and in turn, to hold me back as I waited for him.

My climax built under his fingertips, and I froze. I was dangerously close, and I shut my legs, biting my lip so hard it hurt.

“Playing hard to get, hmm?” Thayre asked, his voice shaking the slightest bit as he deepened his thrusts. Strengthened them.

He faltered. His breath caught, or maybe he was holding it. I couldn't be sure, but as his grip on my waist tightened, I let my head rest against his chest.

“Please,” I begged.

“You don't need my permission,” Thayre said. “Close your eyes.”

I did, and in the next breath, I came so hard everything turned white and a breath rushed from my lungs. Thayre thrust harder. Faster. And with a low, throaty growl, he came.

W
hen I finally opened my eyes, the wall was no longer in front of me, and Thayre was lying beside me. The tips of his hair were damp with sweat, but the exhaustion I expected to see in his expression was absent behind his smile.

“So I guess it's safe to say you aren't seeing anyone,” I said, rolling onto my side so I could curl up against him.

He stroked my hair, then kissed me on the forehead. “I'm looking right at her.”

I lifted my head off his shoulder. “I...”

What the hell could I say? I'd spent the past month trying to forget the last relationship I'd been in, but that didn't mean I was ready for a new one. There were still unresolved feelings—ones such as my submission and how my mind went blank in Thayre's basement. Things I'd subconsciously programmed myself to do, and the very same things I wanted to forget. To escape.

“It's okay,” Thayre said, his voice as even as before. “I went too fast.”

“No, it's not something you did. This, you...it's wonderful. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the same way, it's just that—”

“Complications. I get it.”

I sighed. “It's some crap from my past I have to work through first.”

“Anything I can do to help?” He propped his head up on an elbow.

“I wish I knew. Truly.”

“Well, you let me know, okay?”

I nodded and settled beside him. “The ink on your back, mind if I see it?”

“Not at all.” He sat up so I could look at the markings, then, pointing to the one on his left side, he said, “Got this one in college. It's—”

“Angie,” I breathed, tracing the neck of his beloved violin.

“I guess it's better than getting a tattoo of my ex.” He laughed. “Though it was something that came up from time to time.” He pointed to the second design, of the logo I'd seen on the t-shirt he'd offered me the other night. “You could say my music is my biggest love.” He lay down and held out an arm so I could rest my head on his chest.

“I take it your ex wasn't too happy competing with a musical instrument.”

“Hardly. And it wasn't just the violin either. She met me after I got uber serious about my music, but I guess she figured it was a phase. Like she could fix me or something. I tried to make it work, but when she gave me the ultimatum of her or my music, you see how that went.”

“I should've done the same thing.”

He furrowed his brow. “Is that why you couldn't find your violin?”

“Something like that. I kept it, but I seem to have either misplaced it, or he got rid of it while I wasn't looking. Apparently I sounded like a thousand drowning cats when I played. His exact words.”

“The hell? He clearly has poor taste in music then.”

“Can't argue with that. He refused to call what I played music, but he loved screamo.”

“We sure know how to pick em, don't we?”

“Sometimes I wish dating was as easy as finding a good violin.”

“If only we were so lucky. Then again, given how many instruments I have, I'd have a harem by now.”

I laughed. “I hadn't thought about that.”

He got quiet then, and his eyes grew distant. With our need to touch one another out of the way, there wasn't much else to talk about. It's hard to say how much time had passed since our first kiss in his studio, but I was sure it hadn't been nearly as long as I thought.
Good things never are.

“Have you considered the possibility of playing with us?” Thayre asked, resting an arm behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. “I wasn't lying when I said you were the best available, and I could really use a first violinist, Ms. Childhood Prodigy.”

“Wouldn't that make things weird between us?” I sat up so I could see his face.

He shrugged. “I don't think it would. If you think about it, logically, we shared our passion for music first, and we'll always have that. It can't be snuffed out. You may bury it for a while, but it always comes back. Either when you're listening to the radio or find you have a song stuck in your head at work. Music never leaves you.”

“Problem is, you can still leave your music.”

“True, but look where it got you.” He shifted his weight and sat up beside me. “Please, Moyra, I could really use someone like you.”

“And if we can't keep things professional? Besides, isn't it up to your manager to find a new violinist?”

“I am the manager, as well as the conductor and the producer.” He grinned. “What? I like multi-tasking.”

“What about your label?”

“Bought and owned by yours truly.”

“Okay, but what about the other musicians you have? Isn't there a waiting list?”

“There is, but not for the violin.” He cupped his hands around my own. “Trust me on this, you're the best chance we've got, and once they hear you—”

“So that's why you recorded me?” I set my hands in my lap and hoped the sudden movement didn't undo whatever happened here tonight.

Sitting up straighter now, he looked right at me. “Of course not. I told you, I did it so you could hear yourself play, and so I'd still have a copy in case you decided it wasn't for you. Jesus, Moyra, I only want to help.”

“You probably should've thought of that before taking me to bed with you.” I snapped my mouth shut, but it was too late.

I wanted to be angry. To argue mixing professional and personal lives was wrong. Thing is, I wanted one as much as the other. Hell, Thayre could've invited me along to do sound checks and it would've been worlds better than keeping my job at Kimber's.

“I'm sorry, I just need more time,” I said, wanting nothing more than to say yes if only to get things moving again.

Fact of the matter was I couldn't forget the past three years, or how I might be taking this job away from someone else—
someone who went to school for it.
Someone who had kept playing.
Someone who actually owns her own violin.

I sighed, and my shoulders dropped. “Even if I wanted to take you up on your offer, I don't have an instrument.”

“Not as much of a problem as you'd think.” He held up a hand. “No, I wouldn't get it for you because, yes, that would be favoritism. But, I could get it for you and deduct the cost from your first pay.”

A violin against royalties?
I guess it made sense, but— “What if I don't enjoy the music? You'd be out a player, not to mention a violin.”

“True, but believe me when I say that won't happen. Right now I can tell the music we play and what you did earlier this evening are so similar, you'll feel as though you're playing for yourself.”

“Only I'm not. I'd be playing for others. For the orchestra. For you.”

He bobbed his head. “You make it sound as if I'm offering you a job that's worse than the one you've got now. You already told me how you feel about working for that jerk. If you had a choice that was as beneficial moneywise you'd take it.” He took my hands in his own when I didn't pull away. “I'm offering you the job you want.” 

I exhaled. He obviously wouldn't let this go until the dust had settled around us.
May as well get this over with.
“Not to be rude, but I have to ask. Feel free to ignore me. How much does a first violinist make anyway?”

“You mean you don't know?”

I shrugged. “When we were in school, sure. But I don't know what
your
violinists make.”

“We may be getting too far ahead of ourselves, but let's say the pay is a lot better than whatever you're getting now.”

“How can you be so sure? Is this per gig, or what?”

There was that smile again. “There's something you might not realize about
Transcendence
. It isn't
just
an orchestra. Between the shows we play and the albums I burn our music to, we make enough to keep things going. And we're still growing.”

My eyes widened. “All from playing music?” The idea of making a living wage from something I once loved was unbelievable.

“Not all music, no, but like I said, we aren't any orchestra. Besides, do you think I'd be working this hard if it didn't pay out somehow? This
is
my job.”

“What about the guys at the bar?”

“Additional hands for stage management. The guys you saw with me the night at the bar are Joey and Felix, both of which help set up and take down everything before and after our shows. I cannot pay them full-time of course, but we'd met to go over specifics for the shows we have in a few months.”

I frowned. “Exactly how many instruments do you have?”

“Depends on the song. Can range from a dozen to sixteen, but two of our pieces involve about forty different instruments. And that's not including the trance tracks I make in the studio, either. I guess I could record various instruments to remove the additional support, but I always find that live music is always better. While we're still on topic, stringed instruments are only part of what we do. There are also keyboards, horns, and percussion. I have considered a guitar as well.”

“A guitar mixed in with the strings?” I couldn't imagine.

“Oh, like you haven't heard of Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Ring a bell?”