april
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2006
- Messages
- 1,289
- Points
- 83
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTMxJUyYn/
Damon
Amethyst sat at the grand piano, her back perfectly straight, her posture elegant. The pale lavender silk of her gown shimmered in the golden light that bathed the room from tall latticed windows. Dust motes danced like delicate spirits in the sunbeam's from within, the soft tentative notes of the piano threaded through the stillness.
Then, a shift in the air.
He entered.
Damon.
The tall double doors hadn't even creaked, but somehow his presence was instantly known. It was a chill in the bones and a thrill in the blood. A hunter stepping silently into the chamber.
He was breathtaking. Terrifying. A vision of wrought midnight.
Damon stood in the doorway for a moment before moving inside, slow and fluid, like some living statue of onyx and snow. His tall frame was wrapped in a dark coat that absorbed the light rather than reflecting it. Raven hair framed his severe face, falling just past his sharp cheekbones. His beauty was startling. And his eyes; black as sin, bottomless, pierced her with a singular, possessive heat.
He said nothing at first. He merely walked across the room and lowered himself into the armchair opposite the piano. His long fingers draped over the armrest, adorned with silver and black rings. He looked like he belonged in an oil painting; regal, cruel, seductive.
The moment he entered, Amethyst's fingers hesitated. Her heart leapt in her throat. Her eyes flicked toward him, her cheeks warming visibly.
And then…plink.
She struck the wrong key.
Damon's lips curved slightly, the kind of smile that never quite reached his eyes.
“Whats the matter, darling?” His voice was low, almost sweet, like a caress before a bite. “Do I make you nervous?”
Amethyst exhaled a small giggle, the sound light and musical. It echoed softly in the room and Damon felt it like heat in his veins. Her laughter was more dangerous than any dagger that could pierce his skin. She was teasing him, and she knew what that did to him.
He raised one dark eyebrow. “And now you're teasing me?” He asked with a dangerous lilt to his voice.
“I wouldn't dare, husband,” she said innocently, lashes lowering as her fingers return to the keys. Her tone was pure mischief in a porcelain shell.
Damon leaned back lazily in the chair, one ankle crossing over his knee. His fingers tapped once on the velvet armrest.
“Play for me then, little wife,” he purred, voice warm and silky and pulled taught at the edges. “Play…and pray you do not make another mistake.”
His eyes glinted.
“Miss another note, and I'll wring out every last giggle hiding in that lovely body.”
Amethyst shivered, not from fear, but from anticipation. The room felt warmer now. The air felt thicker.
She placed her fingers once again on the ivory keys. And she played.
But her hands trembled ever so slightly. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she wanted him to catch her making a mistake. Because she longed to be his again; under his hands, under his spell.
And Damon…
He watched.
Patient.
Hungry
Beautiful.
Ready.
The room was quiet save for the notes of the sonnet she played…until a single discordant sound cut through the harmony. A sharp, dissonant note.
Damon stood up with his arms crossed, his dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“You did that on purpose,” he said, voice dropped low, amused.
Amethyst didn't answer, couldn't, not with the way her heart stuttered in her chest. She had, in fact, pressed the wrong key deliberately. She yearned to feel him behind her, his elegant fingers dancing across her petite frame. And god's, he knew it.
Damon slowly straightened, uncoiling like a shadow come to life. His boots echoed faintly on the hardwood as he stepped behind her. The air was now thick with anticipation.
“You're aching for attention, aren't you, my little rebel?” He murmured as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.
She flinched when his fingers trailed lightly along her waist; ten lazy strokes that barely brushed the fabric of her gown. But it was enough. A startled giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it, and her fingers fumbled over the keys again.
She froze.
The music stopped.
“Don't you dare stop playing,” Damon warned, his tone now sharper. “Stop…and there will be consequences.”
“Damon!” She squeaked, half laughing, squirming against the piano bench. “I cannot play properly with you tickling me like that!”
He reached around and played a single, clear note on the high key with one hand, while the other rested firmly on her side.
“Oh no?” He said with a wicked smirk. “Then perhaps you'd prefer to be played instead?”
Amethyst turned her face toward him with a breathless smile, but Damon's expression had turned darkly mischievous.
“If you do not continue playing,” he said slowly, each word laced with promise, “I'll put you over my knees and tickle your bare bottom until the whole manor hears you squealing. I'll make you laugh until tears stain that pretty gown and you're breathless with regret.”
Her eyes widened, cheeks flushing. Her fingers wobbled back into position, and she tried to resume the piece. But she could barely keep time, every note trembling beneath the threat of his touch.
Standing behind her like a storm on the verge of breaking, Damon let his fingers ghost down her back, barely grazing the ribbon at her waist.
“Play, my darling,” he whispered. “Play…or pay.”
Amethyst's fingers danced over the keys, the melody lilting and light. Damon stood at her back, impossibly close and the tension between them crackled like fire.
He began to trace patterns lightly up and down her back. The fine silk of her gown did nothing to shield her from the sensation; if anything, it magnified it. Every slow stroke of his fingers sent ripples down her spine. Amethyst gasped softly, her shoulders twitching beneath the touch.
Damon leaned in.
His lips hovered at her ear, tone low, dripping with sweet poison, warning and temptation all at once. “Keep playing.”
She tried. God's, she tried. Her fingers moved playfully across the ivories, faltering just slightly as one of Damon's hands wandered to the top of the piano beside her. The other stayed low, ghosting across her back, then lifting, then grazing again; unpredictable, maddening.
He drew lazy, cruel flourishes between her shoulder blades, then dropped suddenly again to the small of her back.
She was audibly gasping now, squirming, her body instinctively trying to evade him without pulling from the bench. Her dress was thin there; barely anything between his fingers and her skin. When he paused, she thought maybe…just maybe he would stop.
He didn't.
His hand slid higher, up to her exposed neck, and there, just under the hairline, he let his nails brush, a soft, sweeping, devastating motion.
She choked on a laugh, missed a note, and hesitated.
She tried to catch herself, to continue, but in that second's hesitation, he struck.
His arm wrapped around her waist like a vice, pulling her back flush against him. His free hand dove under the folds of silk, fingers splaying wide across her belly, tickling, tormenting.
“Damon!” She shrieked, breaking out into giggles she could no longer hold back.
He growled softly in her ear, the sound deep and threatening and unbearably arousing.
“What did I say,” He murmured, his fingers relentless against her tummy, “I was going to do if you stopped playing?”
She laughed harder, thrashing gently in his grip, futilely trying to push his hand away; but she was caught, utterly at his mercy.
“This,” he said, wicked with amusement, “is your one and only warning.”
His fingers slipped just slightly over, teasing along her waistline; enough to make her shake and dissolve into adorable hysterics. But then he paused…waiting…daring her to try again.
Damon's touch suddenly became tender, a surprising reprieve. He lifted her trembling hands and guided them back to the piano keys, fingers wrapping gently around hers.
“I can't do it,” Amethyst whimpered, her chest still rising and falling from the laughter he'd coaxed from her just moments before.
“You do not have a choice,” he whispered, his own voice soaked in want and heat, “or I'll drape you across my lap, lift your skirts and bare that beautiful bottom. Not a single inch will be spared. Your laughter will echo through every hall, every room. Every soul here will hear how I ruin you.”
A sound escaped her throat; not quite a moan, not quite a whimper. It bloomed into a devious smile as she turned to him and captured his lips into a sudden, molten kiss. The force of her passion caught him off guard. His composure slipped, just for a moment, as he groaned into her mouth, seized in the tide of her rebellion.
And then, she pulled back.
Damon was left panting, lips parted, eyes burning.
“You little minx,” he muttered, chest heaving, the fire in his eyes now barely contained.
Without warning, he pulled the piano bench back, wood scraping softly against the polished floor. He stood fluidly, then lifted her, his strength effortless, and swung his long legs over the bench, first one, then the other. He sat, settling himself comfortably. Before she could recover, he pulled her back down into his lap, nestling her atop his thighs. Her skirts pooled around her, but the positioning left no question of who held the power now.
“Start…again.” He commanded, the word brushing her ear like a challenge. His voice was calm, almost sweet even; but the wicked undercurrent beneath it promised devilry.
She tried. Her fingers found their placement, and a few soft notes fluttered into the air like shy birds, but then his hands moved.
One rested lightly at her hip, fingers curling with deceptive gentleness. The other slipped around her from behind, tracing a languid, deliberate path across her shoulders, then down along her collarbone. Two fingers walked; playful, spiderlike, across the bare skin beneath her throat, descending slowly down the front of her bodice.
Amethyst squealed softly, her shoulders bunching. “Damon please!”
“Mmm?” He replied innocently, fingertips skirting with menacing care. He dragged one slow finger just above the seam of her corset, where cleavage met fabric, and she immediately dissolved into helpless giggles.
Her nose crinkled. Her shoulders shrugged. Her hands slipped from the keys as she wriggled in his lap, trying and failing to regain control.
His smile was positively rakish. “What's the matter, love? I said play.”
She tried again, her fingers, one by one, fumbling over the keys. The giggles spilled out in bursts as his hand continued its teasing descent across the delicate skin above her bodice. His other hand began to play, light scratches at her side, a flick against her ribs, a swirl across the curve of her belly that made her twist and squirm in his lap.
“You're impossible!” She managed through her laughter.
“And you're delicious when undone.” He purred. His fingers paused mid-tickle and then both hands suddenly darted up into the hollows of her underarms, squeezing.
Amethyst let out a scream that morphed instantly into wild laughter. Her hands flew from the keys and clutched uselessly at his wrists. But she was caged; her front to the piano, his hard chest pressing into her spine, his elbows folded against her tiny waist, wrapping her in total control. The bench wobbled slightly as she thrashed in place, but Damon was immovable.
“No…no!” She shrieked through helpless giggles, twisting and kicking up her skirts as she tried to escape, but there was nowhere to go.
“Oh, darling…” Damon purred against her neck, his voice dark, breath hot. “Such delightful music you were playing. But I think I prefer this sound instead.”
His fingers played her with remorseless grace, strumming and sliding with fiendish dexterity. Her entire body spasmed, bucking between his chest and the piano, her laughter now high pitched and frantic.
Then came the moment she dreaded..and secretly longed for. The moment she missed one too many notes for. Amethyst slammed her hands down on the piano keys in a split second of raw need and rebellion. The broken chords rang out through the chamber and it felt as though the very air left the room.
Damon stilled completely, gave a soft disappointed tsk, and slid his hands down her waist.
“I warned you.”
Before she could protest, he stood in one swift, graceful movement, pulling her easily with him. She squealed in surprise as he sat down again on the edge of the piano bench and hauled her right across his lap. Her skirts bunched and settled in disarray over her thighs.
Shocked, her breath was momentarily knocked from her lungs, not just at the speed, but at the intimacy. She barely had time to inhale when he did exactly what he'd promised all along.
With calm, unhurried confidence, Damon lifted her skirts, inch by aching inch, exposing her tender skin to the cool air. She froze, scandalized and wide-eyed, heart thundering.
“Wait! Wait, please! D-Damon…” She started, her voice high and flustered.
“Shhh,” he said softly, and his fingertips landed lightly on her upturned bottom.
She nearly jolted off his lap. His touch was infuriating in its lightness as he grazed the tips of his fingers just beneath the curve of her cheeks. It wasn't spiteful. It wasn't even punishment. It was far worse. It was a slow, sensual torment that made her giggle and wriggle against his thighs. Her laughter was helpless, breathy and tinged with disbelief.
“So hopelessly ticklish,” he murmured, clearly enjoying her reaction. He pressed a bit more firmly, letting his fingers tease that same sensitive line where her thighs met her bottom. “Tell me this tickles,” he coaxed, skirting his nails along her most tender places.
She kicked her legs, tried to swerve, but he only pinned her tighter and tickled more deliberately.
“Damon! Stop! No more…please! It…it tickles!”
“Does it?” He taunted, sliding his hand up higher, fluttering his nails mercilessly up and over the curves of her backside. “Then perhaps you'll take your lessons more seriously next time.”
She opened her mouth to argue but his fingers suddenly curled into squeeze, making her shriek, her cheeks clenching reflexively as a shocked burst of laughter escaped her.
“Be still, or I'll spank you,” he growled as he reveled in her reactions, greedily drinking in the exquisite scene laid before him.
But his fingers never stopped. Light swirling glides…sharp little scratches that made her jump…a devilish squeeze or two, all softened by his tender grip on her waist and the intoxicating scent of his skin.
And then, as she finally began to tremble, finally began to submit, he paused.
Only for a moment.
His hand lifted…and came down with a sharp, perfect smack.
Amethyst yelped.
“There,” Damon said, entirely too pleased with himself. “A proper duet. One note of laughter, one of impact. Shall we continue darling?”
But he never gave her the dignity of a reply, his fingers were already back, conducting virulently over her delicate skin. He played her like his favorite melody, savoring every pitch of every note she made, committing every verse to memory.
Damon
Amethyst sat at the grand piano, her back perfectly straight, her posture elegant. The pale lavender silk of her gown shimmered in the golden light that bathed the room from tall latticed windows. Dust motes danced like delicate spirits in the sunbeam's from within, the soft tentative notes of the piano threaded through the stillness.
Then, a shift in the air.
He entered.
Damon.
The tall double doors hadn't even creaked, but somehow his presence was instantly known. It was a chill in the bones and a thrill in the blood. A hunter stepping silently into the chamber.
He was breathtaking. Terrifying. A vision of wrought midnight.
Damon stood in the doorway for a moment before moving inside, slow and fluid, like some living statue of onyx and snow. His tall frame was wrapped in a dark coat that absorbed the light rather than reflecting it. Raven hair framed his severe face, falling just past his sharp cheekbones. His beauty was startling. And his eyes; black as sin, bottomless, pierced her with a singular, possessive heat.
He said nothing at first. He merely walked across the room and lowered himself into the armchair opposite the piano. His long fingers draped over the armrest, adorned with silver and black rings. He looked like he belonged in an oil painting; regal, cruel, seductive.
The moment he entered, Amethyst's fingers hesitated. Her heart leapt in her throat. Her eyes flicked toward him, her cheeks warming visibly.
And then…plink.
She struck the wrong key.
Damon's lips curved slightly, the kind of smile that never quite reached his eyes.
“Whats the matter, darling?” His voice was low, almost sweet, like a caress before a bite. “Do I make you nervous?”
Amethyst exhaled a small giggle, the sound light and musical. It echoed softly in the room and Damon felt it like heat in his veins. Her laughter was more dangerous than any dagger that could pierce his skin. She was teasing him, and she knew what that did to him.
He raised one dark eyebrow. “And now you're teasing me?” He asked with a dangerous lilt to his voice.
“I wouldn't dare, husband,” she said innocently, lashes lowering as her fingers return to the keys. Her tone was pure mischief in a porcelain shell.
Damon leaned back lazily in the chair, one ankle crossing over his knee. His fingers tapped once on the velvet armrest.
“Play for me then, little wife,” he purred, voice warm and silky and pulled taught at the edges. “Play…and pray you do not make another mistake.”
His eyes glinted.
“Miss another note, and I'll wring out every last giggle hiding in that lovely body.”
Amethyst shivered, not from fear, but from anticipation. The room felt warmer now. The air felt thicker.
She placed her fingers once again on the ivory keys. And she played.
But her hands trembled ever so slightly. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she wanted him to catch her making a mistake. Because she longed to be his again; under his hands, under his spell.
And Damon…
He watched.
Patient.
Hungry
Beautiful.
Ready.
The room was quiet save for the notes of the sonnet she played…until a single discordant sound cut through the harmony. A sharp, dissonant note.
Damon stood up with his arms crossed, his dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“You did that on purpose,” he said, voice dropped low, amused.
Amethyst didn't answer, couldn't, not with the way her heart stuttered in her chest. She had, in fact, pressed the wrong key deliberately. She yearned to feel him behind her, his elegant fingers dancing across her petite frame. And god's, he knew it.
Damon slowly straightened, uncoiling like a shadow come to life. His boots echoed faintly on the hardwood as he stepped behind her. The air was now thick with anticipation.
“You're aching for attention, aren't you, my little rebel?” He murmured as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.
She flinched when his fingers trailed lightly along her waist; ten lazy strokes that barely brushed the fabric of her gown. But it was enough. A startled giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it, and her fingers fumbled over the keys again.
She froze.
The music stopped.
“Don't you dare stop playing,” Damon warned, his tone now sharper. “Stop…and there will be consequences.”
“Damon!” She squeaked, half laughing, squirming against the piano bench. “I cannot play properly with you tickling me like that!”
He reached around and played a single, clear note on the high key with one hand, while the other rested firmly on her side.
“Oh no?” He said with a wicked smirk. “Then perhaps you'd prefer to be played instead?”
Amethyst turned her face toward him with a breathless smile, but Damon's expression had turned darkly mischievous.
“If you do not continue playing,” he said slowly, each word laced with promise, “I'll put you over my knees and tickle your bare bottom until the whole manor hears you squealing. I'll make you laugh until tears stain that pretty gown and you're breathless with regret.”
Her eyes widened, cheeks flushing. Her fingers wobbled back into position, and she tried to resume the piece. But she could barely keep time, every note trembling beneath the threat of his touch.
Standing behind her like a storm on the verge of breaking, Damon let his fingers ghost down her back, barely grazing the ribbon at her waist.
“Play, my darling,” he whispered. “Play…or pay.”
Amethyst's fingers danced over the keys, the melody lilting and light. Damon stood at her back, impossibly close and the tension between them crackled like fire.
He began to trace patterns lightly up and down her back. The fine silk of her gown did nothing to shield her from the sensation; if anything, it magnified it. Every slow stroke of his fingers sent ripples down her spine. Amethyst gasped softly, her shoulders twitching beneath the touch.
Damon leaned in.
His lips hovered at her ear, tone low, dripping with sweet poison, warning and temptation all at once. “Keep playing.”
She tried. God's, she tried. Her fingers moved playfully across the ivories, faltering just slightly as one of Damon's hands wandered to the top of the piano beside her. The other stayed low, ghosting across her back, then lifting, then grazing again; unpredictable, maddening.
He drew lazy, cruel flourishes between her shoulder blades, then dropped suddenly again to the small of her back.
She was audibly gasping now, squirming, her body instinctively trying to evade him without pulling from the bench. Her dress was thin there; barely anything between his fingers and her skin. When he paused, she thought maybe…just maybe he would stop.
He didn't.
His hand slid higher, up to her exposed neck, and there, just under the hairline, he let his nails brush, a soft, sweeping, devastating motion.
She choked on a laugh, missed a note, and hesitated.
She tried to catch herself, to continue, but in that second's hesitation, he struck.
His arm wrapped around her waist like a vice, pulling her back flush against him. His free hand dove under the folds of silk, fingers splaying wide across her belly, tickling, tormenting.
“Damon!” She shrieked, breaking out into giggles she could no longer hold back.
He growled softly in her ear, the sound deep and threatening and unbearably arousing.
“What did I say,” He murmured, his fingers relentless against her tummy, “I was going to do if you stopped playing?”
She laughed harder, thrashing gently in his grip, futilely trying to push his hand away; but she was caught, utterly at his mercy.
“This,” he said, wicked with amusement, “is your one and only warning.”
His fingers slipped just slightly over, teasing along her waistline; enough to make her shake and dissolve into adorable hysterics. But then he paused…waiting…daring her to try again.
Damon's touch suddenly became tender, a surprising reprieve. He lifted her trembling hands and guided them back to the piano keys, fingers wrapping gently around hers.
“I can't do it,” Amethyst whimpered, her chest still rising and falling from the laughter he'd coaxed from her just moments before.
“You do not have a choice,” he whispered, his own voice soaked in want and heat, “or I'll drape you across my lap, lift your skirts and bare that beautiful bottom. Not a single inch will be spared. Your laughter will echo through every hall, every room. Every soul here will hear how I ruin you.”
A sound escaped her throat; not quite a moan, not quite a whimper. It bloomed into a devious smile as she turned to him and captured his lips into a sudden, molten kiss. The force of her passion caught him off guard. His composure slipped, just for a moment, as he groaned into her mouth, seized in the tide of her rebellion.
And then, she pulled back.
Damon was left panting, lips parted, eyes burning.
“You little minx,” he muttered, chest heaving, the fire in his eyes now barely contained.
Without warning, he pulled the piano bench back, wood scraping softly against the polished floor. He stood fluidly, then lifted her, his strength effortless, and swung his long legs over the bench, first one, then the other. He sat, settling himself comfortably. Before she could recover, he pulled her back down into his lap, nestling her atop his thighs. Her skirts pooled around her, but the positioning left no question of who held the power now.
“Start…again.” He commanded, the word brushing her ear like a challenge. His voice was calm, almost sweet even; but the wicked undercurrent beneath it promised devilry.
She tried. Her fingers found their placement, and a few soft notes fluttered into the air like shy birds, but then his hands moved.
One rested lightly at her hip, fingers curling with deceptive gentleness. The other slipped around her from behind, tracing a languid, deliberate path across her shoulders, then down along her collarbone. Two fingers walked; playful, spiderlike, across the bare skin beneath her throat, descending slowly down the front of her bodice.
Amethyst squealed softly, her shoulders bunching. “Damon please!”
“Mmm?” He replied innocently, fingertips skirting with menacing care. He dragged one slow finger just above the seam of her corset, where cleavage met fabric, and she immediately dissolved into helpless giggles.
Her nose crinkled. Her shoulders shrugged. Her hands slipped from the keys as she wriggled in his lap, trying and failing to regain control.
His smile was positively rakish. “What's the matter, love? I said play.”
She tried again, her fingers, one by one, fumbling over the keys. The giggles spilled out in bursts as his hand continued its teasing descent across the delicate skin above her bodice. His other hand began to play, light scratches at her side, a flick against her ribs, a swirl across the curve of her belly that made her twist and squirm in his lap.
“You're impossible!” She managed through her laughter.
“And you're delicious when undone.” He purred. His fingers paused mid-tickle and then both hands suddenly darted up into the hollows of her underarms, squeezing.
Amethyst let out a scream that morphed instantly into wild laughter. Her hands flew from the keys and clutched uselessly at his wrists. But she was caged; her front to the piano, his hard chest pressing into her spine, his elbows folded against her tiny waist, wrapping her in total control. The bench wobbled slightly as she thrashed in place, but Damon was immovable.
“No…no!” She shrieked through helpless giggles, twisting and kicking up her skirts as she tried to escape, but there was nowhere to go.
“Oh, darling…” Damon purred against her neck, his voice dark, breath hot. “Such delightful music you were playing. But I think I prefer this sound instead.”
His fingers played her with remorseless grace, strumming and sliding with fiendish dexterity. Her entire body spasmed, bucking between his chest and the piano, her laughter now high pitched and frantic.
Then came the moment she dreaded..and secretly longed for. The moment she missed one too many notes for. Amethyst slammed her hands down on the piano keys in a split second of raw need and rebellion. The broken chords rang out through the chamber and it felt as though the very air left the room.
Damon stilled completely, gave a soft disappointed tsk, and slid his hands down her waist.
“I warned you.”
Before she could protest, he stood in one swift, graceful movement, pulling her easily with him. She squealed in surprise as he sat down again on the edge of the piano bench and hauled her right across his lap. Her skirts bunched and settled in disarray over her thighs.
Shocked, her breath was momentarily knocked from her lungs, not just at the speed, but at the intimacy. She barely had time to inhale when he did exactly what he'd promised all along.
With calm, unhurried confidence, Damon lifted her skirts, inch by aching inch, exposing her tender skin to the cool air. She froze, scandalized and wide-eyed, heart thundering.
“Wait! Wait, please! D-Damon…” She started, her voice high and flustered.
“Shhh,” he said softly, and his fingertips landed lightly on her upturned bottom.
She nearly jolted off his lap. His touch was infuriating in its lightness as he grazed the tips of his fingers just beneath the curve of her cheeks. It wasn't spiteful. It wasn't even punishment. It was far worse. It was a slow, sensual torment that made her giggle and wriggle against his thighs. Her laughter was helpless, breathy and tinged with disbelief.
“So hopelessly ticklish,” he murmured, clearly enjoying her reaction. He pressed a bit more firmly, letting his fingers tease that same sensitive line where her thighs met her bottom. “Tell me this tickles,” he coaxed, skirting his nails along her most tender places.
She kicked her legs, tried to swerve, but he only pinned her tighter and tickled more deliberately.
“Damon! Stop! No more…please! It…it tickles!”
“Does it?” He taunted, sliding his hand up higher, fluttering his nails mercilessly up and over the curves of her backside. “Then perhaps you'll take your lessons more seriously next time.”
She opened her mouth to argue but his fingers suddenly curled into squeeze, making her shriek, her cheeks clenching reflexively as a shocked burst of laughter escaped her.
“Be still, or I'll spank you,” he growled as he reveled in her reactions, greedily drinking in the exquisite scene laid before him.
But his fingers never stopped. Light swirling glides…sharp little scratches that made her jump…a devilish squeeze or two, all softened by his tender grip on her waist and the intoxicating scent of his skin.
And then, as she finally began to tremble, finally began to submit, he paused.
Only for a moment.
His hand lifted…and came down with a sharp, perfect smack.
Amethyst yelped.
“There,” Damon said, entirely too pleased with himself. “A proper duet. One note of laughter, one of impact. Shall we continue darling?”
But he never gave her the dignity of a reply, his fingers were already back, conducting virulently over her delicate skin. He played her like his favorite melody, savoring every pitch of every note she made, committing every verse to memory.
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