The bow began its pass, back and forth over her spine, in what she recognized as four-four time. She looked up quizzically at him, and he smiled, closing his eyes and rocking slightly with the motion of the bow as though he was losing himself in the unheard music.
Emma opened her mouth to speak but then thought better of it, giving herself over to the hypnotic movement of the bow as she floated into the sensations.
He paused a moment, tracing her spine with one hand. She heard a dull click as he released the second bow from the case. His fingers were gentle, whispering over her skin as he hummed.
The bow returned to her skin, but it felt different. She felt a scratch, but first dismissed it as fantasy, and then the itch burned. The sensation went cold, then warm, and then began to sting as she tensed and relaxed. She tried recapturing the trance, but it evaded containment, her pulse racing. The bow continued its passage back and forth across her back, increasing in pressure until a sharp bite caused her to tense again. It bit and cut over and over, her eyes brimming with tears.
He knew her pain. He restrung the spare bow with wire himself and cut his finger in the process. He marveled at her calm acceptance of this exquisite torture. Her maestro leaned down and kissed her cheek, fueling their mutual ardor.
She felt the warmth of her blood trickle down her back as he continued the same pattern of strokes across her spine.
Over and over …
Deeper and deeper …
He continued showering her with light kisses on her hair as she wept and shuddered. He played her as though he owned her, and for now he did. As her weeping turned to sobs, he set the bow aside and cradled her in his arms, brushing her hair out of her face, and holding her tightly. There is time for an interlude, and there will be more, so much more.
“Holy fuck!” Charlie’s hand clamped her mouth immediately after the words escaped her lips. She looked around to see if anyone heard her unintended outburst, laughing when she remembered she had the house to herself tonight. Mikki, Aaron, and Emerson were at the movies and Declan was out of town on business. There were no witnesses to her reaction.
She contemplated how to best research this portion of the book for a moment, and then decided perhaps she would find a cello concerto to listen to. Could something like a cello bring about such a hypnotic state of mind? She turned on her laptop, opened up Spotify and typed in “hypnotic cello concerto.” A long list of items appeared, so she scrolled until she found a composer whose name she recognized, Schuman, and selected the first movement from Fantasiestucke. Closing her eyes, she immersed herself in the fluid, rich sounds of the concerto. The lush swell of the notes sucked her under a wave of passion and emotion, and her thoughts traveled to Declan.
Charlie closed her eyes to imagine it better. Played … like an instrument … oh my God, people actually did that? She was unsure if she liked the idea or not; she needed to test it out and taste her initial reaction. People did that? Charlie didn’t think that people did that, but if anyone did do it, Declan definitely could. Maybe. Perhaps. And if he did it to me, would I like it? Maybe. Or maybe not. What if the pain overcame the pleasure, and then I hated it and him?
She found it all exhausting. She didn’t want to and didn’t mean to, but she drifted into a light sleep. An early evening nap of sorts, right? Nothing wrong with that, except she didn’t mean to do it. She had wedding favors to assemble and Mikki to answer to if she didn’t finish them. There were no attempts to fight it, only shallow breaths, and dreamy thoughts.
Charlie shifted in her sleep, reaching out for something. Mumbling through a yawn, she blinked her eyes, glancing around the room with a hazy, dreamy gaze.
“Declan?”
“Charlotte,” he whispered.
“When did you get here?”
“Just about an hour ago.” He tended to the fire as the snow continued to fall outside.
“It’s cozy. Lay down with me, please? We don’t need to … I would really love to take a nap with you though.”
“All right,” Declan whispered. “Only a short nap.”
“Yes.” Charlie offered a sleep-heavy giggle.
***
Charlie lay on the floor in front of the hearth, huddled in blankets, dozing. She vaguely recalled that Declan had left her there. Through half-lidded eyes, she glanced toward the window where Declan stood. He was looking out of it, not bothering to spare her a glance, intent on his current task.
Who was he calling? He spoke, softly, keeping his voice hushed. Charlie couldn’t hear most of his conversation, except all of the sudden his voice picked up, sounding panicked. It was a subtle tinge of a change, but Charlie recognized it immediately. She strained to listen in on the conversation.
“ … I took care of the situation,” Charlie heard him say. The person on the other end of the conversation spoke, and then Declan said, “Everything’s under control.” Declan’s voice relaxed as the conversation continued. Charlie closed her eyes quickly when he looked her way and kept them closed. She’d convinced herself that he shouldn’t mind if she listened in, but when it came down to it, she still didn’t want him to know she was eavesdropping. At one point, he laughed a bit, sounding more relaxed. He sounded better, no longer anxious. Charlie wondered why he was earlier.
Everything’s under control. What did that mean? The fire near her feet warmed her, keeping her mind in a blanketed haze, and she couldn’t think much about anything.
The phone conversation stopped and Charlie heard the beep signifying that Declan ended the call. He whispered to her, smiling faintly, “My Charlotte.” He laid back down next to her.
They spoke more, but what about Charlie didn’t care . She just wanted Declan to lie down with her so she could cuddle with him. And he did. She placed her hand on his chest. Relaxed against him, Charlie nuzzled her nose against his neck.
He tilted his head toward her and smiled. “Still sleepy are we, Ms. Flynn?”
“Are we?” she asked coyly. “I am but are you?”
“Perhaps I’m tired, but not sleepy.”
“Stressful week in Toronto?”
“Yes,” Declan said. “It was a difficult week, but we did get a lot accomplished.”
“Did you go … ” ’
“Go where?”
“You know?” And of course, he didn’t know. She hadn’t asked anything. He furrowed his brow. “To your BDSM places?” There. I said it.
He smirked. “My BDSM places, Charlotte? So is that what we are calling them now?”
“Yes, very technical, I know.” Charlie laughed.
“There are clubs in Toronto, of course,” he said, grinning at her. “I have no use for them as I am otherwise occupied.”
“Are they fun?” Charlie asked.
Declan eyed her curiously as if it was a strange question. “What do you mean?”
“The scenes? Are they fun to watch?”
“They can be entertaining. I enjoy learning different techniques, and they can be a good point of beginning for those new to the field.”
“Maybe I should go,” she said. “You could take me.”
“No,” Declan said, shaking his head. “My Charlotte, those … those places are not for you.”
“You know I like what we do together,” she muttered.
“It’s not about that,” Declan spoke. “That is controlled. It’s different at a club. Not that I would ever allow you to participate, but still.”