Still Life with Strings (24 page)

One hand releases my
breast and goes to my hair, fisting it right at the nape of my neck. He tugs
ever so gently, and I gasp around his cock. Looking up into his eyes, I see him
almost smiling, his gaze dark with desire. Every time I suck on him he pulls,
and every time I can’t help my muffled gasp.

Then I feel his body
tense up; his cock gets so hard and big that I can hardly fit him anymore, and
he cries out as warm spurts of semen fill my mouth. I keep moving my lips on
him, up and down, up and down, until every last drop has been released. I
swallow, and he pulls me up to stand, pushing me harshly against the door and
slamming his mouth onto mine.

His hand slips beneath
the hem of my dress and right inside my drenched underwear. I moan as his
fingers rub at my folds, finding my clit and giving it a little pinch.

“So wet,” he breathes,
his tongue licking a line from my ear to my jaw.

My hand goes to his
cock and rubs; he’s hardening again already. His fingers whisper over my
entrance before plunging inside, and I have to hold onto his shoulder to keep
upright. My legs turn to jelly as he finger fucks me hard and fast. Pleasure
ripples through me, and the noise of my heavy breathing fills the tiny space.
The sound of his fingers slapping against my wetness echoes in the background.

“So tight,” he goes on,
his fingers still fucking me, his mouth doing pretty things to my neck.

“I wish we were somewhere
else,” I manage to whisper, because I don’t want this pleasure to end. I want
him to fuck me with his cock for days. Unfortunately, we’re in a storage closet
in a television studio with dozens of people rushing by right outside the door.
So for now his fingers will have to do. Not that they’re doing a bad job. No,
not at all.

“I don’t,” he replies,
his voice a hot caress. “I like it here. It’s sort of forbidden. The danger of
being heard, getting caught.”

Well, now, isn’t he
just a little kinky bastard.

At this he thrusts his
fingers right up into me, and I moan far too loudly. His answering chuckle
makes me want to smack him, but I’m enjoying what he’s doing far too much for
that. His thumb starts to flick at my clit, building a fire inside me.

I gasp and moan,
pressing my face into the hollow of his neck. I nuzzle his earlobe and then
lightly take it between my teeth and bite. He rewards me by rubbing a hard,
torturously slow circle around my clit with his thumb, his fingers inside me
slowing down. I feel him hit every pleasure spot now, the lack of speed somehow
making this better.

“Come for me, baby,” he
urges as he nuzzles my nose, encouraging my face to move from his neck so he
can see my eyes again.

“I’m going to. Soon,” I
tell him in response, my words all shaky as everything inside me builds to what
is going to be a fucking intense orgasm. Our gazes locked now, I let out a
breath, and he sucks it in. Breathing each other’s air. My fingernails dig into
the fabric of his shirt where I’m clutching his shoulder, and I practically
yelp when all of a sudden he pumps fast again, sensation shattering from my
core and outward into my whole body. His thumb presses hard into my clit and I
come, moaning and sighing all at once, tremors wracking my body.

I hold onto him for
long moments after they’ve subsided, my head all in a daze. His arms go tight
around my waist, and mine go around his neck. We kiss and peck at each other,
not saying a word but silently acknowledging that what just happened between us
was incredible. And needs to happen again — as soon as possible.

Shane moves and brings
his wrist to his line of sight to check the time on his watch. Quickly, he lets
out a string of swear words and untangles our bodies.

“What’s wrong?” I ask,
disappointed that he’s pulled away from me.

“I have to get back.
We’re supposed to be on the air in five minutes.”

Oh, shit. I step back
and take a look at him, fixing his hair while he buttons his trousers. Opening
the closet door, we step out into the light and hurry to the studio. Along the
way Shane’s phone rings in his pocket. He stops and pulls it out, staring at
the screen long and hard but not answering. I study his face, wondering why he
looks so pissed all of a sudden. Then he ends the call and shoves the phone
back in his jacket.

A harried runner gives
Shane an annoyed look when we finally show our faces. Shane takes a peek at
himself in the mirror; he’s still a little dishevelled after our encounter, so
he straightens his clothes and fixes his hair some more.

Henry gives him a
knowing smile, and then they’re both being escorted to the set. I follow
behind. I’ve never been in a studio like this before. I take in all the
equipment and lights, the behind-the-scenes team making sure everything runs
smoothly.

There’s a male and
female duo presenting this particular show, and right now they’re reading off a
teleprompter, doing the intro for Shane and Henry. An overweight man in his
fifties who looks like he’s in charge talks swiftly to the two of them in a
hushed voice, and then they’re both walking onto the set and shaking hands with
the presenters. They take their seats on the red sofa, and the male presenter,
whose name I think is Jim, asks the first questions. I stand close by on the
side lines, watching and listening.

“You’re both very
welcome. Now, tell us a little bit about the new season that’s coming up. I
hear you’ve got lots of exciting shows happening.”

Henry nods and dives
straight into a practiced spiel about the orchestra’s upcoming events. I hardly
pay him any attention as I focus on Shane. He looks flushed, and I guess he has
reason to be, given the last half an hour. The female presenter gives him an
appraising look, her expression showing that she likes what she sees. Huh.

There’s a long table
nearby with tea, coffee, and various pastries. Me being me, I clocked it right
away as we walked onto the set. Stepping over to it, I pour myself a cup of
coffee, dumping in three sachets of sugar and some milk. I also grab an iced
Danish and take a big hungry bite. Free food, you have to love it.

When I settle my
attention back on the show, Shane’s eyes meet mine past all the cameras, and he
smiles.

Wow. I’ll never get
used to how his smiles make my heart go
pop
.

“I hear you’ll be
having some fabulous musicians from the around the world coming to play with
you,” says the female presenter, trying to bring Shane into the conversation.

He doesn’t say
anything. Oh, shit, I think his nerves might be getting the better of him…or
maybe he’s too busy smiling at me to hear her. There’s a moment of awkward
silence before Henry comes to the rescue.

“That’s right,” he
says. “Philippa Sedgwick and Ian Hughes will be with us next week.”

“And is it true that
Mona Campbell might even be making an appearance?” the presenter goes on.

Now she has his full
attention as his face whips to her. Suddenly, my focus is no longer on Shane’s
gorgeous smile. It’s on the brief look of horror that quickly passes over his
features before he puts a casual mask back in place. Uh, what? Mona’s going to
be playing at the concert hall? From the looks of it, Shane had no idea about
this.

Henry replies in the
affirmative, and my gut sinks. The presenter brings her focus onto Shane again
by asking, “Isn’t it true that you and Mona have a romantic history?”

“Yes, a long time ago,”
Shane answers, trying to be polite.

The presenter smiles,
like this is all fun and games. “I suppose sparks will be flying at the
reunion.”

Shane gives her a cold
look. “As I said, it was a long time ago.”

“Mr Arthur and Miss
Campbell will be playing Brahms’ Hungarian Dance No. 1 and 5 together,” says
Henry.

Now Shane cuts his eyes
to the conductor. Obviously, this is the first he’s heard of any planned duets.
Henry goes into more detail about that particular show, but I tune him out.
Shane’s jaw is tight with tension, and he looks like he wants to get up from
the sofa and leave. Take that, live television.

Thankfully, he doesn’t
leave.

I will his gaze to meet
mine, and when it finally does I try to channel all my calming
chi
into
one look. His tension visibly slips away as he gathers himself and settles back
into the interview. I wonder why the management for the orchestra has organised
these duets. I only have limited knowledge, but normally it’s the job of a
guest musician to do solos. Then again, Shane is something of a celebrity in
this world. Perhaps they wanted to drum up a bit of gossip and intrigue, sell
more tickets and the like.

Soon the interview is
being wrapped up, and the presenters are thanking both Shane and Henry for coming
in. The two look to be having a heated discussion as they step off the set and
over to a quiet corner. I move around a guy operating a camera to get closer so
I can hear.

“Why the hell is this
only being sprung on me now?” Shane grits out.

Henry has a beseeching
look on his face. “Honestly, I thought you knew. Maybe it’s a clerical error
and someone forgot to contact you.”

“I can’t play with her.
There’s too much bad blood there. It’ll be a disaster.”

“Surely if she’s agreed
to do it, then there can’t be that much bad blood. Like you said before, it was
a long time ago, Shane.”

Hmm, it can’t have been
that long ago. If my estimations are correct I’d say a year at most.

“This is fucking
bullshit, and you know it. Someone deliberately made it so that I wasn’t told
until it was too late to back out. I know how this works. They think they’ll
have a sold-out house because people will want to come and witness the sheer
fucked-upness of it all.”

Shane drags a hand
through his hair, and Henry gives him a small smile. “Is fucked-upness a word
now?” The teasing lilt to his voice makes Shane a little less tense, and a tiny
laugh escapes him.

“Shut up.”

Henry clasps him around
the shoulder. “You can do this, son. Believe it or not, I’ve had a few romantic
entanglements with musicians over the years, too. I know it can be tough.”

Shane looks at him and
nods, seeming to come to a conclusion that he’s going to struggle on. Play the
duets with Mona, and get them over and done with.

I can’t say I’m pleased
about it, but I’m glad he’s not going to let it all get to him.

Spotting me standing by
a water cooler, he comes and wrap his arms around my middle, placing a kiss to
the very tip of my nose. I laugh.

“I suppose you heard
all that,” he says, lips in my hair.

“Yeah. You handled the
interview really well, despite everything. For a second I thought you were
going to say some choice words to the presenter.”

“Oh, there were a few
on the tip of my tongue, all right. I held them in, though, for the sake of
professionalism, of course.”

“Of course.”

At this moment the
presenter in question walks by with an assistant. I still don’t know her name,
but she cocks an eyebrow as she takes in the two of us wrapped around each
other and then keeps walking. Shane says his goodbyes to Henry and then leads
me by the hand out of the studio.

I breathe in the cold,
crisp air once we get outside. There’s something kind of depressing about the
lack of windows inside.

“Want to go for a
drive?” Shane asks as he slides into the driver’s seat.

I shrug. “Sure. Where
do you have in mind?”

He glances at me and
then straight ahead through the windscreen, tapping his hands on the steering
wheel. “Let’s go see the ocean.”

I keep staring at him as he starts the
car and pulls out of the parking spot. While he drives I turn on the radio,
messing around with different stations until I find something I like. Once I
settle on a song, I sit back and enjoy the ride.

His phone rings again,
and again he ignores it, waiting until it goes to voicemail. I’m starting to
become a little too curious about who he’s avoiding speaking to.

Somewhere along the
way, Shane reaches over with one hand and squeezes my thigh. He leaves his hand
there, only moving it when he needs to before quickly putting it back. I watch
him, remembering when he’d been doped up at the hospital and blurted out that
watching me drive was like foreplay. I kind of get it now. His arms strain
beneath his shirt when he steers, his profile beautiful and strong at the same
time. It kind of makes me hot and bothered.

I look at his hand
currently grasping my thigh and realise that he hasn’t had the opportunity to
wash it since we were in the closet. He’d done the entire live television
interview with me all over him, and I’m still on him. The idea causes a little
shiver to dance down my spine.

A while later we’re at
Bray strand, and Shane’s parking again. It’s not a warm day. In fact, it’s kind
of chilly out. It’s a good thing I brought a coat. Getting out of the car, I
shrug into it and button it up all the way. There are hardly any people on the
beach, just one or two folks walking their dogs. There’s a good deal of wind,
creating waves that bash against the shore.