The Devil's Soloist.
AuteureAngel
- Reads 2,097
- Votes 253
- Parts 28
His hands were stained with blood. Mine trembled from the keys I'd just played.
The studio door slammed behind him. The silence in the soundproofed room enveloped us.
His molten, unblinking eyes traced my sweat-slicked skin.
I should've been afraid, but fear had long since learned to live beside arousal.
"You know what your voice does to me?" He rasped, stepping forward, every inch of him coiled and predatory.
"Tiberio..." I whispered, unsure if it was a warning or a plea.
He didn't stop. His fingers tangled in my hair, and then his mouth crashed onto mine-hot, brutal, claiming.
I gasped as he backed me against the grand piano, the sharp edge digging into my spine while his hips pinned me in place.
"I hear you sing," he growled against my mouth, "and I want to ruin you."
"You already did," I gasped, my nails digging into his shirt, into the muscle beneath.
"No," he hissed, slipping his hand between my thighs. "That was foreplay."
His touch was possessive-ruthless. There was no tenderness in the way he lifted me onto the piano, no apology when he tore the buttons of my blouse open one by one with a patience that made me ache.
"Everyone listens to your voice," he said, pressing his mouth to my throat, "but only I get to make it scream."
His tongue traced down the column of my neck, his fingers dipping beneath my panties like he had every right. And maybe he did.
Maybe I gave it to him when I let him back me into the shadows. When I stopped singing for freedom and started singing for vengeance.
I moaned his name again-broken, breathless. And he smiled against my skin.
"That's it, soloista. Sing for me."
And I did. With no mic. No stage.
Just his hands, his mouth, and the devil's rhythm pounding through my pulse.
*****
A novel steeped in lust, betrayal, and twisted love-where every note she sings brings someone closer to their ruin.