Of Drums and Feathers

Inspired by Rihanna's "What Now"

Late at night, I dropped by his studio to check on him.  Busy, as always.  Oblivious to my presence, I watched him by the door, headsets on, sticks bouncing on his vintage Ludwig set.  He has this sexiness about him that thrills me, the way he bites his lower lip and tilts his head while playing, the way his leg muscles contract with pedal work, and that unique side glance as he leans back during breaks that never failed to weaken my knees.  He has the most intense eyes I have ever seen, dark, penetrating, commanding, arousing.  One look and I am on my knees.

Silence forced me out of my reverie.  I saw him staring at me, exhausted yet strikingly handsome in his forever gray Vince crew neck tee with his strong, broad shoulders and that dazzling smile that leaves me breathless all the time.  I approached with seduction in mind, but he reached for my hand and pulled me to sit on his lap. I obliged, looking at his hard, sculpted chest.  He caressed my neck, run his fingers through my hair and gently tugged on it, forcing me to look up at him, sexual hyperventilation, breathing against each other’s open mouth.  Exhaustion gone as he lapped at my lips, sucking and licking, his tongue tasting and probing.  His hand slipped under my top, kneading and teasing, took it off and exposed my creamy breasts, nipples hard and elongated.  I felt him bulging against my hip.  I moaned.  He groaned.  With one swift movement, I found myself straddling him.  Skirt hiked up, he tore my lace panties off, cupped my butt cheeks, and eased himself inside me as I gripped his shoulders. I threw my head back in pleasure and whimpered as his huge, intimidatingly veined cock filled me, stretched me.  It curved inside, warm and throbbing.  I saw his eyes glint in pure lust as he fucked me. He watched how his cock opened me up and came out glistening with my wetness.  His unuttered arousal melted my inhibitions.  Like the beat of the drums, I moved brazenly, slamming my sex against his in rhythmic motion, getting him deeper each time.  His huge hands slapped my backside as he plunged his thick cock inside, meeting every thrust I made.  Fuck.  He came ‒ grabbing both cheeks, body rigid, moaning aloud, filling every crevice of my cunt profusely with cum.  I felt my own release, holding onto him, deliciously scraping his back, my open lips at his neck.  I tasted his sweat, even that is intoxicating.  I went limp in his arms.  He bit my shoulder and licked it.  I moaned, smiling, thinking of things I would do for this man.

Satiated, for now, I got dressed and saw his roguish smirk ‒ my panties, on the floor, in tatters.  I threw him my most seductive smile, inched closer, and gave him my most lavish, luscious kiss.  I pulled away, his smirk gone, replaced by astonishment.  My turn to smirk as I walked enticingly out the door, leaving him open mouthed with renewed desire.

Later that night, still no sign of him ‒ sigh ‒ the” perks” of having a workaholic lover. I thirst for his touch, again, the way his piano-playing hands danced on my body in perfect symphony, a craving hard to ignore.  I went to bed, naked.  With my head hanging off the edge, eyes closed with focused intimacy, hair flowing onto the floor in bouncy curls, knees bent and toes pointed, I began to touch myself, clit in circles, finger sliding between my already moist slit, so ready, and nipples getting hard with every pinch and knead.  Moaned his name in tune with every caress and prod.  I had it again and again.  Spasms racked my entire body in multi-layered musicality.  With only the sound of my hasty breath, I opened my eyes and saw him by the door looking at me sternly.  Breathing stopped as I watched him get a bunch of neckties from the bedside cabinet.  He pulled me by my ankles and secured each, wide open, to the metal headboard and wrists restrained above my head.  Stretched and blindfolded, the last thing I saw was his signature wicked smirk.  Thrilled.  He hushed me with a kiss.  Silence.  I heard drawers being opened and closed.  A few seconds passed and I paled with the lightest of sensations on my pulsating nub.  Oh, fuck!  The tickle torture...  His sweet revenge.