It takes me several seconds to realize the lid is closed on the Fazioli. Did he forget to open it? Looking closer, I see something that doesn’t belong.
Familiar black straps hook underneath the piano, stretch across the black top, and attach to leather cuffs near the keyboard.
My pulse skyrockets, and my gaze flicks back to his face.
His eyes are still closed. I could slip into the hall and… What then? I’m not going anywhere until I talk to him.
Am I afraid of what he has planned for me? Well, my lips are numb, and my heartbeat is raging out of control. But I’m certain those cuffs will lead to answers about Joanne as well as myself. If the truth is too painful, he’ll release me with one word.
I stand taller, but not quite confident enough to step into the room.
The song winds to a close, and he rests his hands in his lap.
Lifting his head, he turns his glacial eyes on me. “Leave all of your clothes at the door.”
“Metallica.” Ivory tucks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and gives me a tentative smile. “That was good.”
I was trained by the best, graduated from Leopold, and hold a seat in the Louisiana Symphony Orchestra. Not once in my musical career have I cared what anyone thinks of my talent.
Until now.
She’s been frozen in the doorway for five minutes, and good is the only compliment her gorgeous lips utter?
When we met, I was afraid the balance between us would be heavily tipped, that I would overpower her and take advantage of her. I weigh almost twice what she does. I’m twenty-seven, and she’s seventeen. I’m a Dominant, and she’s my high school student. Christ, I had so many doubts.
But no more.
As I sit here, aching for her brilliant pianist’s mind to spout poetry about my music, I realize she doesn’t just hold the power in the bedroom. She commands my emotions, tests my confidence, and haunts my every thought. She could destroy me, not just my livelihood, but the very fiber of who I am, and she doesn’t even know it.
It’s my responsibility to balance the harmony between us and manage our roles. Right now, she’s disobeying, and I’m going to remind her what it means to be mine.
“Your clothes. Now.”
Flinching at my hard tone, she glances at the restraints on the Fazioli. Her chest heaves once, twice. Then she closes her eyes and lifts the t-shirt over her head, dropping the material to the floor.
Her tits swell over lacy pink cups, her toned abs encased in dark golden skin. Those sexy legs… I clench my hands. She’s making me wait, her fingers frozen on the button of her jeans.
I rise from the piano bench, the Dom in me taking over. I straighten my spine, roll back my shoulders, and even my breaths. She watches me with hooded eyes, parted lips, her hands dropping to curl against her thighs.
Knowing her trust in me was fractured at the clinic, it’s incredibly satisfying to see her standing here, let alone considering my order. But for us to work, it’s vital I push her to the edge, to that place where she both fears and respects me, but not so far that she can’t breathe.
I force myself to ease back a notch, to use less growl and more finesse.
Approaching her slowly, I hold her gaze with assertive focus. As I crowd her space, her chin lowers, breath hitching, but those huge brown eyes stay with me, refusing to look away. So brave. So fucking intoxicating.
I lower into a crouch and, with painfully slow movements, unzip the fly of her jeans. Hovering my lips an inch from her panties, I drag the denim down her legs. She trembles as I gaze up at her and take my time kissing the skin around the pink satin.
With my fingers on the backs of her calves, I trail them up her legs, speaking softly yet firmly. “Remove your shoes.”
As she toes them off, her swift obedience builds a hungry pressure in my groin. My hands trace the rise of her ass, and my lips follow the dip of her naval. She gasps and rolls her hips, her fingers plunging into my hair, clinging to me for balance.
Fuck, I want her on my cock, clenching and spasming and giving herself to me in every way.
I kick the sneakers to the side and guide her feet out of the jeans and socks. With featherlight touches, I tickle the serpentine line of her spine and toy with the clasp of her bra while rising up her body and kissing a sensual path between her breasts.
Her head falls back, and her slender frame rocks in my arms. She smells like jasmine soap, sultry with arousal, and exquisitely Ivory.
My cock jerks in my jeans, trapped and demanding. Not yet.
I tease the clasp of the bra, my mouth gliding across her delicate collar bone. Moving higher, I kiss the slender column of her neck and nibble along her jaw.