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Sebastian
Sebastian turned his head to kiss the fingers Maelie had stroked his cheek with. He didn’t know what to say. He was so full of different emotions that he was afraid he’d voice the wrong one..
He had had sex with a lot of women. A. LOT. But none had ever felt as perfect as Maelie Barre.
It was impossible to wrap his brain around, so he did all could think about doing. He kissed her more, and then when he was hard, he fucked her more. Again, and again until neither one of them could move.
She fell asleep across his chest, her breasts pressed up against his bare skin, her hair splayed out all around him. He laid awake for a long time, stroking his fingers through her hair, trying to figure out what the fuck was happening to him.
All he could make sense of was that she felt perfect in his arms, in his bed, and the thought of her walking out the door for any reason the next day made a mild panic rise in his stomach.
Shit.
He did his best to convince himself that the sex had only been mind-blowing because he had been celibate for two months, but even he knew better. Pushing the thought out of his mind, he took a deep breath and decided to enjoy the feel of her skin against his, no matter what it meant.
Once he submitted, he fell asleep, his breath slowing to match hers.
He awoke a few hours later to find his arms empty. Lazily feeling around for her, his momentary confusion ramped right up to panic when she was nowhere to be found in the bed. He sat up in the darkness and peered around.
“Oh, thank God.” He sighed when he heard the sound of his piano coming from the next room. He fell back to the bed in relief and let his heart rate subside.
After a few minutes and curious to find out what she was up to, he threw on a pair of sweatpants and went looking for her. He paused in the doorway of his office and just took in the sight. Maelie was sitting at the piano in nothing but her panties and the Cubs shirt he had been wearing earlier that night.
She had snapped on the small desk light and was absentmindedly playing a pretty little tune. It was perhaps the most beautiful vision he’d had the honor to have. He could have watched her all night.
Eventually, he cleared his throat to let her know he was there.
She turned to him, her cheeks burning. “Oh, I’m so sorry, did I wake you?”
He grinned at her and leaned against the doorframe. “Nah, I woke up, and this hot chick I went to bed with was gone, and I was cold, so I went looking for her.”
She blushed further and grinned. “Sorry, sometimes I wander at night.”
“No need to apologize.” He stepped into the room. “Honestly, I’m just glad you’re still here.”
“Me too.” Her smile tugged very heavily on his chest.
“What are you playing?”
“Just a little Shubert,” she answered. “I love his melodies.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t know you played.”
“I minored in keyboard performance. For a long time I didn’t know which instrument I was going to pick as my major, but I realized at some point that I was only leaning towards the piano because it irritated my father so much.”
He chuckled and sat down on the bench when she slid over to make room for him.
“Do you play?”
He shook his head, his heart thudding as their shoulders touched. “Not really. I mean, I can make a few things happen, but they’re never pleasant.”
She smiled at him and he thought she’d never looked as delicious as she did in his T-shirt, her breasts free and pushing against the soft blue fabric. He resisted the urge to touch them. But only barely.
“I thought maybe you played”—she motioned to the music he had been writing—“since there’s sheet music here.”
“Actually ...” He felt a mix of pride and embarrassment. “I’ve been writing.”
“Really?” Her voice rose with a touch of excitement. “That’s amazing. What are you writing?”
He shrugged. “Not much, just a few tunes I’ve thrown together. I imagine them being played by a small jazz combo. Sax, trumpet, drums, rhythm, something simple.” He made a motion with his hand as if it didn’t matter, but she caught it and held on to it.
With huge eyes she said, “No. This is so cool. Can I hear them?”
Jesus, how did this woman turn him upside down so easily? “Like I said, I’m not much of a player.” Really, he was trying to avoid the off chance she might hate them, but she gave him a look that told him she wasn’t going to let him off the hook.
“Well, what if I play them?”
He already knew he wouldn’t win if he tried to fight her, so he shuffled through the music and pulled out “Snowfall.” “You can play this one.”
“Yay.” She clapped her hands together in a way that made him kiss her hard on the mouth. She was so fucking cute, he couldn’t resist.
After a few glorious moments, she pushed him away. “More of that later.” She turned toward the music, her cheeks tellingly red. “For right now, it’s about your music.”
He sighed but gave in. “Fine.”
“Nope, this won’t do.” She pushed him off the bench. “Go over there.” She pointed to the recliner on the other side of the room. “So you can really listen, and I can concentrate.”
“But it’s warmer here,” he whined. “And you’re so sexy.”
She rolled her eyes and pointed to the chair again. “Go.”
Growling, he got up and slumped into the chair, his body instantly missed the warmth of her. But once he sat, he found he had a view of her that would drive any man insane. The desk lamp turned her hair into a messy golden halo of curls and highlighted the sultry curves of her backside.
The fact that he had been lucky enough to have sex with this gorgeous, smart woman was not lost on him, and he was in awe of her as she took a moment to look through the music.
“Tempo?” she asked, interrupting his reverie.
“Uh, about eighty, I think, maybe slower if it feels better.”
She took a breath, gave him a small smile, and then let her long, elegant fingers fall to the keys. The opening arpeggio broke the silence of the room, sending chills up his spine and melting the rigid worry that had straightened his body.
He had been worried. What if it was awful? What if she laughed? But she didn’t, and it wasn’t, and as his body started to relax; he started to realize it might even be good.
By the time she was done, he was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, rapt.
She paused with her fingers on the keys, the final note still ringing through the room. Only after it stopped, she turned to him with glistening eyes. “Seb, this is gorgeous.” Her voice was soft, moved.
He shook his head.
“No, I mean it,” she pressed. “It’s lovely, everything about it. You should record and publish this; it’s fantastic.”
Her face was so earnest he had no reason not to believe her. “Really?”
She grinned. “Really. Do you have a name for it?”
He grinned back, knowing she would absolutely know where the name came from. “Snowfall.”
Her eyes widened a fraction but then her smile melted into pure joy, taking his heart with it. “I think that’s a perfect name.”
“I think so too,” he whispered, and then unable to stay away from her delectable body another moment, he marched up to her, picked her up again, and made the quick trip back to his bed where he could have his way with her a half dozen more times.
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Maelie
Maelie woke up early the next morning with her face on Sebastian’s bare chest. The faint pink light of dawn painted the room with a dreamy glow, and she felt perfect. Both of his arms were wrapped around her, and she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
She listened to him breathe in the quiet room and marveled at the passion they had shared. It had gone far beyond anything she could have ever conjured. He had been passionate, gentle, hard, soft, everything she needed in the moment. He gave her all he had, and she had tried to do the same.
She ran her fingers lightly over his muscled stomach and traced the lines of the beautiful tattoos that ran up his forearm as she had always wanted, imagining the stories behind each one.
He stirred after a few minutes and snuggled her closer with a happy sigh, easily destroying her doubts about how different he would be in the daylight. “Good morning, beautiful,” he drawled, lazily drawing his fingers through her hair.
“Good morning, handsome,” she answered back, luxuriating in his touch.
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” She pressed her lips to his chest and dragged her fingers down to his waist, down further and further until she was sliding her hand across his growing erection.
He let out a hungry growl and flipped her over with a grin. “Another lesson?” he asked playfully, reaching for another condom. “I thought for sure we had enough last night.”
She pulled on his neck hungrily. “I’ve always been an over-achieving student, Mr. Adams. Can I do some extra credit?”
“Jesus,” he breathed. “I can’t say no to that,” and entered her before she could even catch her breath. This time he made love to her slowly, as the sunrise brightened the room. He brought her to orgasm gently and then again before he let himself go. He shuddered, collapsed onto the bed, and drew her tightly into his arms.
He let out a contented sigh, kissed the top of her head, and she settled into him feeling euphorically satisfied.
They didn’t speak for a while, and she laid contentedly in his arms, savoring the feel of his body, of his absentminded caress. It was beautiful.
When the sun started to get a little too bright, he groped for a remote on his nightstand and lowered an electronic shade over the plate glass wall.
“Fancy,” she muttered into his chest over the quiet whirring sound.
“Necessary,” he corrected. “Especially when you don’t want a particular moment to end.”
Lord, if her heart wasn’t already gone for him, it was now.
They laid together a few more hours in the muted light of the shade, legs tangled, talking about anything that came to mind. She told him about her father and the NY Phil; he told her about how he ended up back in Chicago.
“Hungry?” he asked her eventually, sitting up to stretch.
The sight of his fully nude body made her instantly hungry for more of him, but she pushed it out of her mind. For now, she was too sore from their earlier adventures to even think about it. “Starving, actually.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have much, just some cereal.” He turned to look at her. “Or we could go out for breakfast.”
“Cereal is perfect.” Going to breakfast with him would be lovely, but she didn’t want to go anywhere, especially if it might cause him to put a shirt on.
He grinned at her, hopped out of bed, and pulled his sweatpants on. He caught her ogling him and laughed. “Hungry for something else?” He looked all too happy to devour her again.
“When it comes to you”—she slid out of bed—“apparently I can’t have enough.” She pulled her panties and his T-shirt back on. “So, I’ll definitely need another serving. But first, cereal.”
“You know, that’s my shirt, right?” he asked playfully. “What am I supposed to wear?”
She gave him a daring look. “I was hoping nothing.”
He raised a brow but grinned, walked around the bed to her, and kissed her hard and fast. “You got it, babe,” he answered, and sashayed out of the room in just his sweatpants.
She watched him go with her head falling to the side. Christ, she had never seen a more perfectly formed backside. She followed him into the living room and was struck again by the giant window.
“I cannot get over this view.” She looked out over downtown Chicago while he padded around the kitchen gathering bowls and milk. Lake Michigan was glittering in the morning sun and a fresh fall of snow made the whole city look like a tiny snow globe world.
“Me either,” he said as she turned to him and caught him gazing at her rear end. She flushed with pleasure, and he went back to preparing breakfast.
The apartment looked completely different in the light of day. The golden sunlight made it feel a little more welcoming as it bounced off of all the hard, shiny surfaces. It was not a place she would want to live, but it absolutely looked like a place a world-famous jazz musician would.
Everything was dark—the walls, the furniture, the granite. The only items that popped out were the gold and platinum records he had hung on the far wall of the dining room.
She walked over to the wall and read the labels. Jazzmen: Red Lady 500,000 Sold; Jazzmen: Red Lady 1,000,000 Sold; Jazzmen: Break 500,000 Sold; Jazzmen: Break 1,000,000 Sold. They went on and on, twelve in total, and she realized the first time, how accomplished this man was. It hadn’t really hit her before now.
“Don’t pay those any attention,” he told her from where he was placing boxes of cereal on the table. “They don’t really mean anything to me; I just like the way they look.”
“It’s really impressive,” she told him, walking over the table so she could be closer to him. He shrugged and went to the refrigerator.
She watched him move around the kitchen and suddenly understood his tattoos. “Oh,” after reading all the album labels, they made sense. “You have a tattoo for each album.” She pulled out a chair to sit.
He grinned and returned to the table with some orange juice. “Guilty,” he admitted. “Actually, you’d be surprised how few people figure it out.”
She smiled with pride. “Well, I love them. They’re beautiful.”
His smile deepened as he pulled out his chair. “Some people would say I’m going to hell for marking my body.”
She cocked her head and waggled her brow. “Yeah, but you’ll look damn fine on your way.”
He laughed at her lusty comment and sat in his chair. “Well, I’ll have good company at least.” He motioned to the small treble clef tattoo she had on her ankle.
They talked and laughed over breakfast, and after she helped him put dishes away, she talked him through what a good instrumental lesson should look like and helped him research the appropriate materials.
“I’m sure Hanson has these books in stock; you can grab them when you get there tomorrow,” she told him. “That’s the best part about teaching at the store, you can get your stuff there.”
“I disagree,” he offered from where he had been taking notes at the coffee table.
She made a doubtful face, completely unsure where he was going with his statement. “What do you mean?”
He gave her a smile she hadn’t seen before. This one was vulnerable and sweet, not the practiced version that made panties drop to the floor like fall leaves. “Just that I think the best part of working at the store is the hot violin teacher next door to me.”
Mae felt herself blush all the way to her toes and wanted to scream “Seb Adams thinks I’m hot!” over the rooftops of Chicago. She could scarcely believe he thought of her at all. Instead of making a fool out of herself doing that, she slid across the couch, took his notebook from his hands, and straddled him the way she had been imagining all morning.
“Jesus Christ, Mae.” He hardened instantly beneath her. With a few quick moves, he pulled himself from his sweatpants, rolled on a condom, moved her panties to the side, and thrust into her so hungrily she cried out.
It felt so freeing, so powerful to be on top of this man. He pulled her shirt off and drew her nipple into his mouth as she found her rhythm. The combination of his seductive tongue and hard cock drove her over the edge so fast, she was coming before she knew what was happening.
A few moments later, he grabbed her hips and brought her body down on him with one last thrust. He pulsed and came with a shout of pure pleasure. When he finished, he put his forehead to hers and held her face in his hands. “You make me crazy, Maelie Barre.”
She kissed his lips, coaxing his tongue to mingle with hers. “Not as crazy as you make me, Sebastian Adams.”