The New Rakes (5 page)

‘Focus,’ he whispered, and Kara bit her lip. ‘Good enough to eat,’ he murmured softly, holding Kara’s knees splayed open wide so that her hips ached.

She tensed her muscles involuntarily, as though a little twitch of her pussy could scratch the itch brought on by Mike’s cool gaze. But the slight ripple and clench between her legs only made her more desperate for friction, for his hands or mouth or cock, something she could rub up against.

‘Undo it,’ he said, nodding at the corset.

Kara reached round eagerly to unfasten the hooks and eyes. Her lungs filled with a welcome rush of air as her breasts fell loose, freed from the stiff clutch of the black net. Spilling from the half-undone corset with her skirt crumpled round her waist, she felt more than naked. Mike was stripping her of everything, piece by piece. His fingers traced the red indentations the underwiring had left tracked across her skin, from her hip to her sensitive underarm. Her nipples had pinched into points; they blushed a deep apricot against the white of her skin. The back of his hand grazed the side of her breast and made her leap inside, as though his touch was electric.

Never mind that she’d been fucked so shortly before – she needed it again, and badly. But Mike was in no hurry. He pulled away and left Kara hanging on the edge of the piano, leaning forwards into midair. She missed his touch immediately, and the distance between them made her ache right to her fingertips.

‘Stand,’ he said, at last.

Kara slid down off the piano. She left smudges on the glossy black lacquer, blooms of condensation from the heat of her body.

Mike frowned. ‘You’ve smeared it. That’ll need to be polished,’ he said.

He took another step back, widening the cold distance between them. ‘Take off the skirt.’

Kara reached for the buttons on her hip. She forced herself to undo them slowly, trying to calm her heartbeat as she paused between each one. The skirt gradually came loose and slid to the floor. Kara instinctively wanted to kick aside the puddled fabric but she hesitated, waiting for Mike’s instruction. He gave no indication of what she should do, but instead spent a good
long
moment looking her over as she stood with her skirt round her ankles.

‘When were you last fucked?’ His voice was low and quiet.

Kara half laughed, half gasped.

‘You won’t tell me?’ Mike walked around her, circling, drawing closer but not close enough to touch. He moved behind her and Kara heard the soft click as he raised the lid of the piano.

The sound unlocked a hundred memories in a sudden vivid rush – turning up for her first lesson in a crop-top and belt-short skirt to find Mike at the piano in a shirt and polished shoes. How he’d been so calm and offhand. The way she’d withered under his gaze. The memory made her cringe again, and blush, even as another picture replaced it – Mike slapping the top of the baby grand, making her repeat a passage over and over until she’d learned it perfectly by heart. The way her fingers would ache during a session, reaching desperately to catch all the notes and tripping over themselves, making painful mistakes. With every sour note, she winced and Mike gritted his teeth.

Afterwards she would be aching too, inside, with frustrated want and horniness. She remembered how he’d grown sterner and more withdrawn over the year they’d practised together, barking out orders and barely smiling even when she played flawlessly.

Kara was wrenched back to the present and the sunlit office as Mike started to play. She didn’t recognise the piece, but the deep chords touched something in her. Mike played as lightly and effortlessly as he always had. The music spilled out of him and Kara allowed it to sweep over her, the high trills sending little shocks down her spine and the low notes marking an insistent rhythm.

She stood, half naked and abandoned, lost, while Mike bent
over
the keyboard. Had he forgotten her? Was he having second thoughts? Her skin tightened. Maybe she should cut her losses and leave now, before he humiliated her any more. As she bent down to pick up her skirt though, Mike’s voice stopped her.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’

He didn’t stop playing, not for a moment. The notes still tumbled from the piano, deep and light at the same time. Kara watched his hands, the tendons in his wrists long and taut as he stroked the keys. She searched his face. Expression had marked him; laughter lines curved deep at the side of his mouth and his forehead was scored with a slight frown. His face was scarred with stories, but to Kara his expression was unknowable.

At last, the piano fell silent. An echo vibrated in the air between them.

‘Touch yourself,’ he said, barely whispering. The tip of his tongue darted out and flickered over his lips. A tiny movement, barely a gesture. But it was enough to give Kara a glimmer of hope. Uncertain, she reached up to stroke her throat. Mike watched her with a sidelong gaze.

‘Lower,’ he said. ‘Feel your tits.’

Kara swallowed. She cupped her right breast. Her nipple stiffened automatically and she let her thumb scuff it. The zing of sensation made her feel stronger and she arched her back, vulnerable and provocative, all at once. Under his pale-gold stubble a muscle in Mike’s jaw flexed as he watched.

She imagined the prickle of his face against her, his rough cheek brushing over the soft skin of her inner thighs, and a pulse flowered in her sex.

‘Show me where you want to be touched,’ Mike said.

Her hand went straight between her legs, her fingers pointing out her desires more easily than she could have spoken them. Just the kiss of her own hand on her clit was at
least
some relief from the gnawing want that was driving her crazy, and Kara pressed down harder, hardly caring if Mike wanted her to or not.

How long would it take him to touch her? Kara rubbed herself slowly. She pressed her thighs together and trapped her hand there. With her other hand she carried on playing with her breasts, teasing each nipple in turn. She was lost in the pleasure of touching herself and it was becoming difficult to stand steady. Her knees were on the point of buckling and her cheeks were flushed. She bit her lip hard and watched as Mike shifted on his seat and reached into his back pocket.

His movements deliberate, he pulled out a tuning fork and held it in his open hand. The sight of the dark metal object laid across his palm sent a shiver through Kara.

‘Stop,’ he said, then rose and walked towards her. Though it wasn’t easy, Kara dropped her hands. She was weak and reeling from the build-up of tension, and it was almost a relief to hear him instruct her.

Mike reached out with the fork and brushed the cold steel over her collarbone. Kara was breathing hard and the jerking movement of her chest made the edge of the metal jump against her skin. Lazily, Mike dragged the flat side of the fork around her breast, leaving a faint white line trailing in its wake. With the tuning fork against her ribs, he gently lifted her breast and bent his head. Without touching her at all, he pulled her nipple into his mouth.

His attentions were precise, catching the sensitive point between his teeth and tugging gently. Kara got an exquisite jolt of hard pleasure concentrated in that one small spot. The smell of his hair – a faint whiff of rosemary and something woody – hit her as his warm wet lips closed round her and sucked. Though they were so intimately connected, his mouth to her breast, Mike deliberately kept his distance.

At last he pulled away, leaving Kara swaying, her nipple smarting and the pulse of want still beating in her sex. Mike’s expression was lit up now, a spark danced in his cool grey eyes and his mouth was wet and hungry. Kara’s attention was drawn to his crotch, the forbidden territory of his naked body under those casually rumpled trousers.

Mike’s body had always fascinated her, the lines and long flat curves of it. She had hunted for the subtle clues of how he would look naked – the way his muscles tensed as he moved, the way his trousers hung from his hips. His burnished skin and the wiry blond hairs of his arms hinted at a well-used body, one that was weathered by sun and exercise, and his slight stubble and loose, overlong hair broadcast the fact that he wore his good looks carelessly.

Kara stumbled forwards and pressed up against him, seeking out the hot naked skin of his throat and latching on with a half bite, half kiss. She tasted sweet salt as she licked the hard line of his collarbone. Then she bit the tender part of his neck as his bent knee slid between her legs.

He didn’t push her away, but lifted her and pushed her backwards onto the piano, dropping her ass onto the keys so that they clanged a loud, broken chord. A handful of notes played as she shifted and opened her legs for him.

Mike unzipped with one hand and fiddled with a foil square with the other, while Kara rolled forwards so that her ass teetered on the lip of the piano. He had the condom on so swiftly she barely had a moment to catch her breath before he surged back against her and slid the whole length of his cock swiftly inside her.

He fought to fuck her then, while she held bunches of his shirt in her fists and dug her heels into his flanks. She balanced on the edge, using the angle to better spike herself on his cock, and pulled his shirt aside to find the burning satin smoothness
of
his skin. With every thrust, Mike’s muscles bunched and contracted, and the hardness of his body felt like it might bruise Kara.

As they fucked, their entwined bodies released a slow-burning perfume – the smell of his body, the sharp rich smell of his sweat and that complex mixture of smoke and leather and rosemary that was Mike’s own. She reached to kiss him and met the rough scratch of his stubble and the blunt, rude intrusion of his tongue forced between her lips. There was not a single suggestion of softness about the kiss, only the force and hunger of his mouth.

The tuning fork fell to the floor as he gripped her hips, adding another clang to the cacophony that they were wrenching from the piano, the dreadful chords and off-notes that resounded every time Mike plunged forwards. Kara almost laughed, hearing so many months of painstaking piano practice massacred, thinking it was ironic that the glorious mess of their fucking should produce such a jarring noise.

But she was struggling to remember to breathe as Mike hammered against her, charging onwards with unstoppable force. His hands gripped at her buttocks and ground them hard, a finger worked between her cheeks and searched out the dark hidden crevice of her asshole. Kara whined and pulled him closer. His hips crowded between her legs, pushing them so far apart that her groin ached. Kara didn’t care. She needed as much of Mike as she could get, the weight and push of his body crushed against hers, and his fingers in her mouth, her pussy, her ass. Mike responded easily, swarming over her and licking, biting, nipping at her while his hips kept up their steady rhythm, pushing into her until her head swam.

‘Oh, Christ.’ Kara wasn’t sure how much more she could take before her world exploded, and she wondered briefly if Mike
fucked
this relentlessly just how much thundering noise would there be when they came?

‘Is this a duet?’ A woman’s voice cut through the messy symphony.

Mike froze, clutching Kara so tightly she couldn’t move. He glanced behind him, and cold shock crashed over Kara as she realised Lina was standing by the door, watching.

‘Nice to see you again.’ Lina spoke calmly. She was dressed as soberly as Kara was lewd and dishevelled – black polo neck, black jeans, no make-up, her face expressing not a hint of shock but not smiling either. She looked like the harbinger of all that was sane and normal, as though reality had just gate-crashed the party. Kara felt her face burn up. Her stockings and heels and naked breasts suddenly seemed like a trashy mistake.

But inside her, Mike’s cock swelled. Although Kara’s body pulsed automatically in response, her sex echoing his tiny movement, her mind reeled. Was he enjoying this? He made no move to withdraw. In fact he ground himself a little tighter inside Kara as he spoke.

‘We’re a little busy, Lina. Can we talk later?’

‘I expect you’ll want me to draw up a contract, will you?’ Lina asked, her face deadpan.

It only made Kara feel even more like a cheap slut and she fought the sense of rising panic in her chest. ‘Can’t you leave us alone?’ she blurted out, forcing herself to meet Lina’s eye. What she saw in the other woman’s expression frightened her – a cold contempt that showed she valued Kara’s input less than nothing.

‘A little privacy, Lina?’ Mike said, and at last Lina responded, nodding to him as she left and closed the door

‘Oh, shit,’ Kara said once they were alone again. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Don’t let it bother you,’ Mike said. ‘Lina isn’t easily shocked.’
He
reached his hand between her legs to pinch her clit. ‘I don’t think catching me in flagrante delicto will be much of a surprise to her.’

‘What, you do this often?’ Kara pushed him away, her orgasm shrivelling and dying inside her as she struggled to cover herself, the sweat already cooling on her body. Mike’s unconcern confused her. Even standing there with his cock hanging out of his trousers, he was unperturbed.

‘Don’t bother with the coy act, Kara,’ he said. ‘I doubt you’re as pure as the driven snow.’

‘That’s none of your business,’ Kara said.

‘No, not usually,’ Mike admitted. ‘Unless you’re fucking Tam, of course.’

‘What’s Tam got to do with anything?’ Kara said. She scrabbled about with the fixings of her suspender belt, trying to pull on her skirt at the same time. Most of all, she wanted to run out of there, get far away from her embarrassment and Mike’s far-too-direct questioning. The recording studio suddenly seemed like a minefield.

‘It’s clear there’s something between you,’ Mike continued relentlessly. He tucked himself in and zipped his trousers. ‘And if I’m going to be producing your record, I need to know that there’s no chance you’re going to screw things up.’

His words stung. With one sentence, they’d gone from high-octane sex straight back to business.