Chapter One
The music vibrated deep within my core, the staccato beat of the passage in the Rachmaninoff Prelude extending to my fingertips. With every deep rumble swirling in my chest, I was left breathless in awe and wonderment. Every powerful boom reverberating in my chest excited my mind, the increasing tempo fueling my heartbeat.
There was nothing so freeing as being lost in the moment, finding peace in the driving bass. My fingers flew across the keyboard as my body moved in time like a metronome. I felt every audience member leaning further forward in their seats. Remaining in awe, their emotions were turbulent, anger and sadness mixing with utter joy.
As the lights shimmered across the stage, the other musicians became ferocious in their interpretations of the powerful piece. Every keystroke satisfied the darkest passion, rough and sadistic while remaining hypnotic.
I darted a single look toward the audience, hopeful he was there watching me. Patiently waiting.
Hungering.
A mysterious fan with imploring eyes and wanton desires.
I’d envisioned a man gorgeous and muscular, a knight in shining armor brought by destiny.
Whoever he was, he was my fantasy and I longed for him to finally step away from the shadows, taking what he’d laid claim to the first night he’d tempted me with gifts.
Tingles coursed through me, heat exploding in every tendon and nerve ending. The music. The man.
The longing.
Beads of perspiration dared to defy the flow, a single one sliding down the bridge of my nose. I used the entire keyboard, rolling my fingers from white to black keys, my head bobbing ferociously as the final passage drew near.
A single tear formed in my eye, the love of what I was doing on full display. I was proud yet anxious, struggling with the deep sadness roaring through me. As soon as I brought my hands down in the last chords, the last run of my fingers from one side of the piano to the other, I felt utter vindication.
When finished, I threw my head down, the dramatic ending exactly what I was hoping to achieve.
The applause was thunderous, rumbling beneath my feet as I took a few seconds to relish the moment. I watched as if frozen as both the bead of sweat and the tear fell, lightly splashing across the keys in their own dance of joy and salvation.
The moment I finally lifted my head, staring into the audience, I was more emotional than I’d been in my entire career. The lights blinded me from distinguishing faces, but I could feel the outpouring of love. This was my moment, something I’d worked my entire life to achieve, never believing it possible. As I took my bows along with everyone else in the symphony, I reminded myself that dreams really could come true.
I could feel him, the heated vibrations pulsing deep within my pussy.
Once the curtain was down, I pressed my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. I’d worked for years to achieve a single goal. To be a soloist. I spun in a circle, stomping my feet to continue the vibrations. They allowed me to know this was real and I was very much alive.
“So beautiful!” someone called.
“Very proud of you,” the conductor said. “Absolutely stunning. We need to discuss your upcoming piece for the world tour.”
Oh, my gosh. We’d heard rumors we’d be heading overseas. I sucked in my breath as I watched his hands in fluid movements. He was a true maestro. Excitement tore through me. I hadn’t been certain I’d be allowed another solo. To think of doing so in Milan or Paris was incredible. “Oh, thank you. Yes. Yes. We will.”
“Call me in a couple days.”
At least we had some time off to reenergize and enjoy the moment, but I was even more excited about the next concert. The program was entirely different, the selections free and full of passion. Music was my life.
“Thank you, sir. So much.” I fanned my face, rising onto my tiptoes to try to locate my best friend, finally watching as she pushed and shoved her way closer.
“You did so great!” Teresa squealed as she bounded in my direction. A violin virtuoso, she’d been first chair for the evening, the selection astounding her as much as I’d been when I’d received the solo. We’d both worked so hard to achieve this very moment, never fully believing it would happen.
We jumped up and down together before she wrapped her arm around my waist as we did our victory dance toward the dressing rooms.
“So did you.”
“Did you notice the reporters?”
I shook my head. “If I had then panic would have set in.”
“Bullshit. Gah, I can’t believe the concert hall was packed,” she added as we pushed our way through the crowd. I continued looking at her, so entrenched in what she was saying I ran into another performer.
“Oops!” I laughed, giving a hand sign as the celloist grinned.
“You can make it up to me by going out for a drink.” The musician’s hand brushed down my back and instead of the tingling sensations I’d felt before, his touch was creepy.
I could tell Joseph was shouting, which was unnecessary. I shook my head, avoiding eye contact. “I’m finally back home in Seattle. I need my warm bed.” I also craved a tall glass of wine all by myself. Maybe a movie under a warm blanket. I put my two hands together, placing them by my ear and leaning my head against them indicating sleepy time.
He gave me a heated look. “That can be arranged.”
I swatted him while Teresa wagged her finger. “Not this time.”
Sighing, his gaze turned darker, but he nodded. “One day, Marissa. One day.”
He was so sure of himself. Of course it didn’t help almost all the female musicians fawned over him.
We both waited as he moved into the crowd, no doubt eager to start his evening of drinking with the guys.
“He never gives up,” she mused, shaking her head. “Kind of creepy if you ask me.”
“No, he doesn’t, which is a problem, but he’s a nice guy.” He’d asked me out on countless dates over the last few months. I’d accepted one. He’d reminded me why his nickname was Mr. Handsy. I’d caught him lingering in the corridors waiting for me to walk by afterwards. He wasn’t a bad guy, but my world revolved around my music. I opened my dressing room door, another little thrill. For tonight, I had a dressing room of my own. Maybe it was the size of a closet, but that didn’t matter. I only hoped my brother had made it to the concert. He’d be so proud of me. He’d been my greatest supporter over the years.
“You might want to give him a chance. Maybe a cup of coffee.” Teresa leaned against the wall, giving me one of her infamous looks. “That’s right. You already did that. How many times did he shove his tongue down your throat?” Her laughter caused me to shake my head.
The hallway was abuzz with activity and excitement. We were home for a full week before heading out to Europe. “You are incorrigible.”
Shrugging, she studied my hands. “I know, but I’m just looking out for you. At least have a drink with me. We need to party.”
“That I can do.” I walked in and immediately froze. Very slowly a smile crossed my face. This time the sweeping sensations were explosive. My made-up images of my adoring fan centered in my mind. Soft lips. Hard muscles. A big, thick cock. I licked my lips as I thought about swirling my tongue around his shaft. “My God.”
“What?” she asked.
“Take a look.” A tiny thrill tickled me all the way to my toes. The roses were from him, the sexy stranger I’d never met. I’d been right. He’d been in the audience. Maybe he was waiting for me.
Teresa trailed behind me, peering around my shoulder. “Wow. Those roses are incredible. Suddenly, you’re popular. Maybe he’s a hot guy. Ooh-la-la.”
I was shocked to see them, the instant thrill followed by a moment of sheer fantasy even filthier than before. It was the third time an admirer had sent flowers. Always blood red. Always accompanied by a beautiful quote. After the first, the fantasy had been born, the person responsible a handsome man who adored my music, someone exploding with passion. Another series of tingles slipped down my spine. “Maybe,” I breathed. “They are… amazing.”
“Perhaps they’re from your brother or…” She squeezed my arm, issuing her famous pout. “No, my guess is some gorgeous man wants to sweep you off your feet. He must be rich. Your lucky day. I’m jealous.”
“Oh, stop. Besides, what if I have a boyfriend?”
She swatted me. “You wouldn’t keep something so decadent from your bestie. Whoa. There’s a package for you too. This kind of thing only happens in romance books.”
True enough.
There was a silver bag with a glorious red bow that perfectly matched the shade of roses. Another moment of shock and awe settled in. Only my brother knew my favorite color was red. Maybe Teresa was right. I was home in Seattle. Charlie had promised he’d try to attend.
Suddenly, an unsettling feeling replaced the giddiness. Hesitantly, I moved toward the crystal vase that glistened in the LED lighting, pressing my fingers around the stem of one while I inhaled. The scent was incredible, the velvety petals tickling my nose. Staring at the bag, I was almost fearful to discover what was hiding beneath the crisp tissue paper.
Teresa moved to where I could see her. “Well, open it. Don’t keep a girl waiting. I certainly have never received a gift after a performance. I’m already jealous,” she encouraged even though her mouth twisted into a pout. She was almost as excited as I was.
I glanced toward the still open door, hopeful to see my brother standing just outside. He’d been so busy lately that even when we’d performed in Seattle two months before, he hadn’t been able to attend the performance. Musicians rushed by the door, all laughing in their moment of celebration. At that moment, the crowd blended together in a sea of bodies and noise.
Blinking, I looked away, the uneasiness continuing. That was ridiculous. Someone valued me as an artist. Nothing more.
I tugged at the bow, draping it across the edge of the mirror once freed. I peered inside to find a black velvet box.
Bright red tissue paper was nestled inside, the folds perfectly done. My fingers were shaking as I removed the box, eager yet a tiny nagging feeling pooled in my stomach. There was no reason for me to feel nervous, but butterflies swarmed my stomach. Very gingerly I opened the lid, the light immediately reflecting across bedazzled jewels. Wow. The flutter continued as a wash of heat crossed my jaw.
No stranger gave such expensive and glorious gifts without requiring something in return. A knot formed in my stomach.
Teresa was right behind me, on her tiptoes to glance over my shoulder. “Oh, my God. Are you kidding me? A ruby and diamond necklace. That must be from Charles. Did he come into some money?”
Frowning, I had to ask myself the same question. He’d sunk every dime into the resort and casino several years before, even using his inheritance to make his dream come alive. Maybe it was doing better than I’d been led to believe.
“No,” I whispered.
“Then maybe from your mystery man.”
What if that was the truth? Who sent a stranger expensive jewelry? The hair on the back of my neck stood up and for some reason, my nipples suddenly ached.
I bit my lower lip as I brushed my fingers across the dazzling jewels. The necklace was spectacular.
“Maybe there’s a note. If they’re from Mr. Dark and Dangerous, I’ll be really jealous.”
“Mr. Dark and Dangerous?” I threw at her.
After placing the box on the dressing table, I peered into the bag. There was a white envelope pressed against the side. I glanced over my shoulder at the door, uncertain what I was anticipating. While my brother adored me and would do everything in his power to protect me while allowing me to pursue my dream, my instinct told me the gift had come from someone else.
The man I’d seen watching me. Three times. The first time I hadn’t been certain, thinking the dark figure remaining in the shadows was just another patron of the arts. But the second time, I’d felt his eyes boring into me. That’s when the fictional, overtly sexy story had been born. With almost no dating experience, the dark fantasy had kept me warm.
This felt more like an obsession and something I should be extremely concerned about.
A lump had formed in my throat as I peeled away the flap, pulling the thick card from inside. As I skimmed the words, I was stricken with a sense of foreboding, which didn’t make any sense. There was nothing overtly dangerous or threatening about the words. In fact, they were hauntingly beautiful.
“Music is the literature of the heart; it commences where speech ends.”
Alphonse de Lamarline
I read the words out loud. What a perfect quote. Nothing threatening. Nothing overt. Just an amazing saying that fit the situation. Yet the ache in my nipples increased. Still trembling. Still breathless. I glanced into Teresa’s face, studying her reaction.
“Wow,” she exclaimed. “That’s beautiful. I didn’t know your brother was a romantic.”
He wasn’t.
I fingered the calligraphy, brushing my fingers across the slight ingrains from a heavy hand. Whoever had sent this to me had written the card himself.
“You really are a lucky girl, or you have a stalker. Either way, how freaking cool. We regroup in fifteen minutes?” she asked. “We’ll go to Jazzy’s tonight for a drink.”
I nodded and read the card again, still caught in the mystery and moment of utter passion, a similar emotion to what I’d felt while playing. Sighing, I glanced at the necklace. The piece must have cost a fortune. Maybe Charles had sensed just how important the solo was, not only to my career, but to the pain I’d felt burning deep inside for so many years. I brushed my fingers across the soft, velvety rose petals, another smile pulling at my lips.
A slight reflection caught my attention and I glanced into the mirror. My brother stood at the door with a bouquet of pink roses in his hand. Pink. Not red. Red like hearts. Red like… blood.
Instinctively, I slipped the card into the bag, pushing it and the velvet box behind the crystal vase. Knowing how protective my brother was, he’d demand to know who’d sent the gift, going to great lengths to find out while causing me significant angst. No, thank you.
Plus, I liked having a sinful secret.
I turned around, smiling. His eyes were full of pride.
Without saying anything, he took long strides toward me, offering the incredible bouquet. “Thank you.” I took a deep whiff. The fragrance was incredible, but not nearly as intoxicating as the others.
“You were incredible. I’m so proud of you,” he said as he looked directly at me, but his eyes wandered almost immediately to the other bouquet. His expression immediately hardened. “Who are those from?” He’d shifted his gaze back to my eyes. Now, all business. Entirely too protective and demanding.
“I’m not sure. An admirer.”
“Who?” His question was a demand.
My nerves were boosted to the very edge.
“I don’t know. Stop. Other girls get flowers sometimes, Charlie. I had a solo. Maybe from one of the orchestra benefactors. We were sold out tonight.” Even though he nodded, his face was pinched and the look in his eyes almost frightened me. He wasn’t just being my brother. Something was off. I’d had the same feeling several times before, but he never wanted to worry me.
At least my words captured his attention, the smile returning, but I could tell by the glint in his eyes something was very wrong. “You’re right. You were fabulous and deserve every accolade in the world. Why don’t you come home with me tonight and I’ll make a late dinner to celebrate. You can stay in the guest room. It will be like old times.”
My brother never wanted me to stay over.
“Thank you, but I just want to go home and crawl into my own bed.” Whatever he was worried about was more than just being a protective brother. “Charlie. I’m a big girl.”
He shifted his gaze one more time before rubbing his jaw. “You’re right. I’m just excited for you.”
Yes, he was, but the dark, haunted look in his eyes frightened me. What had my brother gotten himself mixed up in?
[divider]Chapter Two
Marissa
“You’re so beautiful, Marissa. Every inch.” He brushed his fingers down my arm, tilting his head slightly before sliding the tips under my breast.
I took a deep breath, trembling from his touch. While the look in his eyes was powerful, dominating, his actions were gentle. He’d stripped me of my clothes while remaining in his. His heated gaze never left me as he trailed his fingers across every inch of my skin.
“Thank you, sir,” I whispered, almost fearful to speak. He remained in the shadows while I was exposed in the light above, yet I could still see the possessiveness of his eyes. So dark. So hypnotic.
With my pulse high, I fisted my hands to keep from moving. He chuckled softly as if knowing how much I craved being allowed to touch him.
“So obedient. Such a good girl.” He rolled the tip of his pinky around my nipple. I was fully aroused and had been from the moment he’d walked into my home.
After taking a deep breath, he pinched the hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger. The pain was glorious, tiny prickles like shards of glass tickling my senses.
He rubbed the flat of his hand across my chest, instantly twisting my other nipple. The corner of his mouth lifted and he issued a single nod of approval. “Are you wet for me?”
“Yes.”
A hard pinch forced a moan.
“Try again, baby girl. Remember. Obedience.”
“Yes, sir.” Trembling, I allowed my gaze to drift to the thick bulge between his legs.
“Perhaps I should find out for myself.” With absolute control, he rubbed his palm roughly down my stomach while nudging my legs further apart with his knee. I held my breath as he slipped his hand between my thighs, cupping my mound. I was bare as he’d demanded, my pussy throbbing from anticipation. Every inch of my skin was on fire.
Still shivering, I was suddenly alive, hearing music in my mind I’d never heard before: strong notes, deep bass, and a heavy drive that exposed an array of emotions. He rubbed my swollen pussy lips several times, creating electric friction. A single moan escaped, the sound deep and throaty.
“Yes, very wet.” He cracked his fingers against my wetness, forcing a single whimper.
I bit my lip, almost falling forward from the hint of agony. He repeated the action three more times in rapid succession before driving a single finger into my tight channel.
“Yeeesss… Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” As he added a second then third finger, I allowed myself to slide into an incredible abyss where all time stopped and nothing else mattered but his care and protection of me.
He didn’t stop, chuckling darkly as he thrust all four fingers inside, the force driving me onto my toes. I gripped his arms, still shaking, my core exploding. My mind drifted, the longing to please him more important than anything.
His hot breath cascaded across my face as he rolled his thumb around my clit.
“Still such a bad girl. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” I could barely recognize my voice.
“You need harsh discipline.”
My entire body ached from the thought. “Yes, sir.”
He cupped my chin with his other hand, nodding as if I’d pleased him. “I will mark you as mine for all the world to see. Would you like that?”
“Please. Yes, please, sir.”
After taking a deep breath, he jammed his fingers into my wetness, pumping with wild ferocity, but I knew he wouldn’t allow me to climax. Not yet.
Not until I’d been punished.
When he pulled his hand free, I gasped, ready to beg him to continue, but his stern look reminded me I was to remain quiet. As he backed away, heading toward the side of the stage, I moved toward the piano. I’d rehearsed the moment a half dozen times, I knew what to expect.
As he pressed a button, the rumble of the mechanism vibrated throughout my body. I fisted my hands, standing straight as the velvet curtain began to raise.
The applause was thunderous, the crowd on their feet. A shimmer of light pulsed down from above as if heaven was smiling. I basked in the moment of glory until he approached, pointing toward the piano.
Without hesitation, I took my place, spreading my legs wide open and bending over. Being completely naked in front of the huge crowd was freeing, a reminder I was his dirty little girl.
He moved behind me, brushing the tips of his fingers down my spine, the oohs and ahhs from the audience still a complete rush. As he rolled his index finger down the crack of my ass, he allowed me to hear his deep, rumbling growls.
“Such a pretty pink pussy. Everyone knows how wet you are for me. For your master. You’re all mine. Arch that pretty back of yours so everyone can see those sweet pussy lips.”
As he backed away, I shuddered from anticipation, obeying instantly. The shouts of admiration echoed in my ears.
As he backed into the shadows, I struggled to see what he was doing even though I knew. The hard crack of the thick leather strap seconds later was affirmation.
I was breathless.
I was excited.
“My beautiful virtuoso deserves harsh punishment. Twenty strikes,” he stated to the crowd. Chants of twenty-five and even higher floated throughout the auditorium.
As he approached once again, I pressed my palms against the smooth ebony.
The moment he issued the first crack of the strap, I rose onto my toes, exalted from the brutal sensations. The crowd roared in appreciation. Two more strikes smacked against my bottom. Both the heat and agony were powerful.
Three more and I was floating, my pussy throbbing as juice trickled down my inner thighs.
“So wet for me,” he stated so the audience could hear. He drove his fingers inside, pumping several times. When he pulled them free, he shoved them into my mouth. “Remember, you are all mine.”
I shuddered from the quiet suppression of electricity.
“Suck my fingers, little girl. Soon, you’ll have your lips wrapped around my cock.”
Another wave of excitement hit me.
Another moment of sheer joy.
Tonight was about letting go, embracing the sweet abyss of darkness that only he could provide.
My lover.
My master.
My owner.
Oh, my God.
I jerked upright in bed, taking several deep breaths while instantly pressing my fingers against my lips to keep from crying out. My eyes darted around the darkened room catching shadows lurking in the corners. A moment of fear rushed through me until my throat convulsed, making breathing impossible.
“Mine,” he whispered.
“What?” I muttered, immediately clutching the sheets. Was he here? No. I laughed and licked my lips, realizing they were swollen.
As if he’d been kissing me.
As if I’d been sucking his cock. My God. Wow.
A constant flow of tingles pulsed throughout my body as I blinked, struggling with the shadows still formed around my head. Focusing was impossible and the rapid hammering of my heart was driven by the beat of some unknown music.
An image formed in my mind. A face yet still unfocused.
Moaning, I shifted and was able to feel the intense throb between my legs.
The dream had been so real. The darkness was oppressive, the shimmer from the nightlight across the room creating ominous shadows. My pussy throbbed and I felt the wetness between my legs.
A tiny laugh surfaced and I blinked several times to try to focus, finally able to bypass the ugly shadows. A few seconds later, I tossed the covers, lowering my feet to the floor. I’d had several intimate dreams over the past few nights, but none so overtly sexual.
Exhaling, I calmed my nerves and moved toward my bedroom window. I had the feeling of being watched. After a few seconds, I pulled the blinds away, peeking outside onto the dimly lit street, the single overhead lamp providing little more than a dull yellow glow.
With sleep still in my eyes, I scanned what I could see of the other small houses and vehicles. It was the middle of the night, the neighborhood safe and quiet, no one inside.
Then I saw him, a man standing less than fifty yards away.
A man so tall and broad, he took my breath away.
Menacing in his silence and lack of movement.
And he was watching…
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