KIM
I came back to my body slowly. That was … transformative. It sounded hokey, but even as I lived it, experienced it, I had changed and there was no going back. Deep down, a part of me worried about the shame that might come later. Against a wall. In the hall. Grinding against his erection like some hard-up teenager.
But right now I didn’t worry about that. Devlin was kissing me softly.
I sighed into him. “Thank you,” I said.
He groaned and kissed me more but not greedily. He lavished me with tender love. I ran my hands down his tensed body and palmed his hardness, the hardness that helped me reach the peak.
He stiffened when I cupped him.
“You don’t have to.” He pulled on my wrist gently, but I was a girl on a mission.
“I want to.” I’d had a peek of what was under there, but I needed more. I was greedy for it. I wanted to see all of him. Would I ever be satisfied with this man, my curiosity quelled?
I unzipped him and slid my hand down between our bodies. He was dangerously hot and hard. I stroked down once just to feel the full length. We gasped in unison. My pace increased as his eye went even darker.
“Another second of that and—” He thrust into my hand.
There was no time to find the rhythm he needed. My grip tightened as he thrust again.
“Shi—” He groaned out as he came into my hand.
I grinned against his shoulder as he caught his breath. I was the cat that got the cream.
“Sorry.” He panted. “I hadn’t planned on it.”
“I liked it,” I said.
And I did. I didn’t know what it said about me that I loved that we’d just made each other come like this. That desire was already tingling through me again, feeling his mess on me. The smell of our fooling around in the air was potent and heady. I loved every dirty second of it. I couldn’t think about what that said about me. Not now.
I gently bit his shoulder.
“No biting,” he chided.
We both straightened to clean up. He handed me his shirt to wipe my hands and then used it to clean my stomach. God, I was a wreck for this man.
“Probably need to wash this now.” He balled up the shirt and reached with his free hand to tuck some hair behind my ear. The look in his eyes caused my heart to flutter. Nobody had ever looked at me with such fierce softness. “I’ve been working you too hard.”
He picked up my hands one at a time to kiss each palm softly.
“Thank you,” I said again. “For everything. I feel …”
He hugged me again. “Come on. It’s been a long day, let’s go to bed.”
“Your bed?” I asked and wiggled my eyebrows.
He growled again. “That’s not a good idea. I want you to sleep.”
Heat flushed over my skin at the implication. He held my hand as he walked me upstairs to what I had come to think of as my room. I was ready to get out of the jeans that rubbed too tight on my tender flesh and put on fresh underwear. The naughty part of me loved feeling the signs of his effect on me. I couldn’t believe I had come that way. I couldn’t believe how he’d inflamed me. Even now, just thinking about it, holding his hand innocently as we walked, his thumb rubbing the tender skin of my wrist, caused new heat to bloom in me.
At my door, he dropped his head to kiss me again. Chastely. Probably a good idea at this point. Apparently, it didn’t take much to get me going.
“Get some sleep. When you’re ready, if you’re ready, we’ll start back up tomorrow,” he said. “With practice,” he added with a grin.
“Sure.” I had been going for flirty, but a big yawn came out instead. Sleepiness hit me hard. Never underestimate the power of a great orgasm. But it was so much more than that.
“I want to be good for you Devlin,” I said. “That’s all I want. To be good enough.”
He closed his eyes as though pained. “You’ve always been good enough. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I was just trying to dig out the Kim that I remembered from camp.” He shook his head with a frown.
“I’m trying to find her too,” I said.
He smiled. “Well, good night. And thanks for that,” he blushed, and was so sweet I could die.
“Are you kidding me? You just moved to the top of my Christmas card list,” I said.
He coughed out a laugh. Moving into my space, his face fell serious again. “Watching you come was a gift.” He bit my bottom lip gently before kissing me.
He walked away, and with him went my heart.
Sleep had hit me so hard, I woke up in the same exact position I’d fallen asleep in, wondering what year it was. My phone illuminated the dark room telling me it was still very early the following morning. Devlin would still be sleeping.
I dropped my head back to the pillow and sighed. I felt lighter than I had in years. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to talk to somebody about my past. I would still need time to heal, but fear didn’t grip me as it had.
To my immense relief, when I replayed the night before, shame didn’t come crashing down on me. Only drowsy pleasure. But a niggling something else tickled the back of my mind. Like remembering that you left your curling iron half a day later. No, that wasn’t it. A bigger something. It had been years since I had experienced this. I sat up in bed.
There was no time to wait. When the feeling struck, you didn’t wait. I slid a robe over my nightgown and into some slippers. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Just move.
It was inspiration. I was desperate to play my cello. It had been such a habit for so many years, I didn’t have time to miss it. Now, I felt it. An excitement to play. I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore, knowing Devlin was nearby. I shuffled through the dark house and down to basement where my cello waited for me. It glinted in the soft light, winking, like it knew I’d coming crawling back. It was ready. I was ready.
Time to play. I didn’t bother with turning on the brighter overhead lights. I wouldn’t be reading music and the soft glow from the recessed bulbs was enough. The scratch of the rosin along the hair of my bow instantly soothed. The cello tuned perfectly in the climate-controlled room. It nuzzled into my body and I warmed up my fingers with scales and arpeggios. When I was ready, I didn’t even have to decide what to play. His piece had been welded into my brain. I knew every note.
But as it was currently written, it didn’t fit my current state. My mood was a slow gondola-ride through an underground lagoon with swirling mist and stacked candles all around. His piece was written as a roller coaster ride on a sunny summer day.
I took his composition and wrapped my emotions around the music, slowing the tempo to suit my mood. And just like that, the notes flowed out. I was connected to my instrument and the music felt transcendent. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was able to let go of my regret and fear and just focus on Devil’s words. What would be the message I left behind? How did I want people to feel when they heard me play? The message was love. It was the feeling of being cherished. It was pure and unadulterated. It was everything that was good in life.
Heat travelled across my arms and torso as the robe began to rub against my movements, interfering. I forced myself to place the bow down and ripped my robe off, freeing my arms.
My hair fell loose, sticking to my skin, and tugging as my fingers blurred and my arms pushed and dipped and pulled and floated. There was only this moment. This understanding.
This was what I’d been missing these last few years. I’d been missing a reminder of everything I loved about playing the cello. Why I loved music. I was at home. This wasn’t ugly ambition. This was love. As my feelings expanded and ignited, the tempo naturally increased and my body moved to keep up. My eyes were shut tight and all I could do was feel. It was magical. This was what it should feel like. This was what playing was all about. Transcendence. I was the instrument for the message being conveyed. We were one.