Summary: You feel neglected by Charles due to his busy schedule, so you ask him to play the piano for you to regain his attention. Things take a turn when you spread your legs right in front of him with only one rule: he must play without a single mistake.
Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, masturbation, oral (fem receiving), fingering, overstimulation, spanking (like twice), things that should not be done on a piano.
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The summer sun filters through the lace curtains, casting intricate patterns of light and shadows across the room. You're standing by the window, feeling the heat of the day mixed with a simmering irritation. Charles had been distant lately, not entirely by choice. His time had been consumed by the relentless demands of being a Formula One driver. Now that summer break began, his focus had shifted to the excitement surrounding his new ice cream brand. Meetings, phone calls, and endless travel have left little room for the intimacy you once shared.
Determined to change that, you head to the bedroom, opening your wardrobe. You sift through your clothes, selecting a simple summer dress that clings to your curves in all the right places. It seemed normal, appropriate according to the weather, but it was just a part of your plan. You forego underwear, adding a tantalizing element only you were aware of.
You glance at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the dress and letting your hair fall loosely around your shoulders. Satisfied with your appearance, you left the bedroom, your mind set on drawing Charles away from his duties.
You find him in his study, hunched over his laptop, eyes glued to the screen, engrossed in some unknown task. You walk in quietly, your presence a gentle intrusion into his self-imposed isolation.
"Charles," you say, your voice soft but insistent. "I want you to play the piano for me."
He looks up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he notices you standing there. His eyes take in your outfit, lingering on the way the simple summer dress hugged your curves. For a moment, he looked impressed, even a bit captivated, but then his expression shifted, a mixture of regret due to his duties.
"I've got so much work to do, mon amour," he stated, glancing back at his laptop, the weight of his responsibilities evident in his voice. "I really can't take a break right now."
You step closer, your fingers lightly grazing his arm, drawing his attention back to you. "Just one song," you coax, your tone leaving little room for refusal. "For me?"
He sighed, conflicted, but the look in your eyes and the subtle allure of your outfit began to sway him. With a reluctant nod, he closed the laptop and stood, following you to the living room. His piano stood majestically in the center, a reminder of the times when music flowed freely between you, of the mornings he woke you with melodies he created.
He sat on the bench, leaving enough room for you beside him, glancing up at you with a dimpled smile. However, you don't sit beside him as he expected. Instead, you climb on top of the piano, facing him with your legs dangling just above the keys. He raised his eyebrows in question but you only smiled in return.
