Chords that Bind Ch. 14: Sonata

"Please, what little girl? I know you haven't forgotten."

She knew what he wanted to hear.

"No! Fuck you. I thought you didn't want me."

Her obscenity and defiance shocked him as if she were a live wire. He let go of her hands.

"I-I can't take this again. You're going to leave! You're just fucking with me!"

Her chest heaved, and her eyes were blazed with rage and unshed tears.

James' voice was soft. "Cecilia." He couldn't stop saying her name. He wasn't going to loose her now.

Her bearing stiffened. He had some nerve to say her name like that. Like an endearment. "Shut up James. You're fucking with me and I'm not taking it anymore." She stopped before she made any real confession.

"That's not how you address me. And that's what you think? You think I'm fucking with you?" It was James' turn to sound accusatory. His blue eyes iced over. He was angry with himself for lying to her all those months ago. He wanted her. He'd wanted her since he first laid eyes on her.

She nodded, afraid to offend him with her answer. "I can't do this again. Please."

He closed the gap between them, and gripped her shoulders.

"We're past all that now. I tried to keep you safe, and to keep my distance. But I can't stay away anymore. I'm done running from what I feel for you. I'm sorry. You deserve someone better, but I don't have it in me to let you go."

She shook her head. "No, you're going to go back to London and leave me here, and I can't—I can't go through that again. Please, just stop."

"Look at me Cecilia." She obeyed, even though she wanted to continue her defiance.

"You haven't been listening to me. I'm not leaving this city without you. You. Are. Coming. With. Me." Cecilia didn't have an answer to that. James kissed her deeply again, and she melted into him, no longer shying away. His free hand crawled under her sweater to caress her heated skin. He felt her whole body press closer to him and he squeezed her right breast through her bra. She moaned. "Good girl, Cecilia," he soothed. She shouldn't want him treating her like this. It wasn't right, but her body still remembered its ill-fated training.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked as he pulled her sweater off.

"Yes," she gasped as he took hold of her other breast and freed her hands. Her arms circled his neck.

"You know better than that." His fingers dug into the soft flesh, prompting her for the proper response.

"Yes, Sir. I'll be good."

James growled in response and started to peel the sweater off her. The air hit her skin and she gasped again. She knew she was wet. His hands on her were so welcome. They comforted her after the torrent of her sadness. His words should scare her. They were playing the same scary game that brought her to him, but she knew James. He was a paragon of chivalry, and maybe, just maybe, this time would be different, maybe this time he would accept her submission.

"Stay still." He growled now. His fingers trailed over her breasts and ribcage. He tugged her leggings over her curvy hips and proceeded to remove her bra, slowly revealing her body. Her panties came next. She stood, fully revealed to him. The sight made him incredibly hard, as did the uncertain way she looked at him.

Cecilia's face coloured as James eyed her with appreciation. But his voice and her desire compelled her to obedience.

James slowly paced around her. The last time he saw her fully nude had been the night they rescued her and she'd been badly hurt. Now, all the wounds were healed and he could barely detect the damage that had been done to her back. She was perfect, trembling as she held herself straight for his inspection. He ran a finger down her spine from the back of her neck to the curl of her tailbone and enjoyed the responding shiver. His fingertips brushed her back and torso.

Fear coursed through Cecilia's whole system. James triggered her flight response, but her instincts no longer operated the same way. It was primal and visceral, but instead of actually running, Cecilia maintained the stillness, the way a deer does when it hears the footsteps of a wolf. Her whole nervous system took in more information. She detected the faint scent of sandalwood from James' aftershave, the dangerously close proximity of his body, the sound of his deep breathing and the sharp click of his shoes as he continued to circle her.

He'd admired her from a distance for so long, that it was freedom just to look at her with undisguised lust. "Such beautiful carriage."

Cecilia didn't answer, but a sliver of pride warmed her from within, happy he could honestly find her attractive.

His fingers combed through her hair again, and he admired the different tones of chestnut and coffee that gave her hair such a rich lustre. Cecilia entered a new place altogether as his presence started to drown out everything else. His voice deepened a half-step and brought her back to the present.

"You think I'm going to toss you aside? Have my way with you and be done?" A taunting smile played around his mouth, but his eyes didn't share in the jest. "Answer me, Cecilia. It wasn't a rhetorical question."

She knew what he wanted to hear. "N-n-no S-sir."

"That's good. Because nothing could be further from the truth. I've run out of reasons to keep away from you." James stepped behind her, his left arm banding across her abdomen, and his right crossing her bare chest, pulling her close to him. She felt his breath in her right ear. His voice barely carried over the blood pounding in her ears. "I don't think I'll let you go at this point." His left hand inched down, brushing her thigh. She moaned, and James' hand crawled to her pussy, gently tracing her folds and teasing the nerve endings.

It had been so long since she'd been touched so intimately. She whimpered and twisted in James' firm embrace, but he held her fast. His arms constricted further against her frame, and his index finger probed further. "Shhhh."

A whine escaped Cecilia, but she calmed ever so slightly. Her pussy was wet, and James' fingers emphasized the point. "You're already so wet for me. Do you know how much that pleases me?"

His firm arousal behind her told of the effect she had on him. She nodded. He kept his tight hold on her and continued the digital exploration, spreading her wetness and fingering her pussy lips. Her head whipped to the left, away from his whispers. Emboldened by her embarrassment, James circled her alert little clit and chuckled as she gasped and thrust her hips into his hand. He repeated the motion and Cecilia's body strained against him this time, seeking out his touch. His right hand traced her nipple in methodical circles as his finger pressed into her sopping slit.

"You're so tight Cecilia. Do you feel that?" He crooked his finger and pumped her body slowly, letting her adjust to the invasion. She ground her pussy against his hand. After a few moments he pinched her nipple and snuck another finger into her incredibly tight cunt. His thumb resumed circling her clit and she let out a sharp keening noise, trapped between fear at the invasion and desire for it to continue.

James played with her pussy in earnest, abandoning exploration and assuming command. His left hand grazed up her neck and guided her head back to lean against his shoulder. He felt the power of her very life force pulsing just beneath his fingers. It was nothing more than a gentle caress, with no pressure, but the gesture was one of ownership. James felt her body tighten and her breathing hasten. He slowed and withdrew his fingers.

Cecilia whimpered at the loss. He had her right where he wanted her. "Do you want to come Cecilia?" He bent to kiss her neck, distracting her. "Hmm?" he asked again when she was slow to answer.

"Yes Sir."

"Ask me."

"Please Sir? Please may I come?"

"I'll think about it." His hand traced her neck down to her other breast and proceeded to give it the same titillating treatment. She sighed in frustration when his fingers continued to lazily play with her innermost core. "You're body is begging to be fucked. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Her breathing hitched. She breathed the admission, "Yes Sir."

"Soon." It was a promise. "Right now, you'll beg to come riding my hand."

She was in a place where obedience was intoxicating and instantaneous.

"Please let me come on your hand, Sir?"

Gradually, he sped up and when Cecilia's body signaled its readiness, he dictated his terms. "Say you're mine. Tell me you belong to me, and I'll let you come." He cupped her whole mound with his palm and she lewdly thrust against it. She heard his words, but couldn't register any thoughts about them.

"I belong to you Sir."

"Good girl. Come for me."

Her entire being distilled to the areas in contact with James' hands and lips. He softly nipped her ear, and rapidly circled her clit. Her breathing came in pants now, and his arms wrapped so powerfully around her shaking frame that it looked as if she were putting up a fight instead of a surrender. A final pinch of her clit threw Cecilia over the edge and her whole body contracted, pulled in on her center, and then spasmed.

James felt her weight give way under the force of her climax. He scooped her up in his arms.

"Good girl," he murmured. He carried her to her bedroom and lay her down. The room was stale from disuse. He watched her come down from her high, and felt his own aching arousal intrude on his otherwise victorious thoughts: she said it. She'd given herself to him, and he wasn't about to reject such a precious gift again.

He combed his fingers through her hair and enjoyed seeing her nuzzle against his hand. He wanted her. As she came down from her high, she gave him a bashful smile, but covered her breasts and turned her hips away from him.

"You're beautiful. Don't hide yourself from me." His voice coaxed her. The color rising to her cheeks deepened.

Her reticence made James want to tie her up and force her to reveal all of her body's secrets. He was sure he'd enjoy discovering each one. But he didn't have any rope with him. He leaned down to kiss her, and felt his heart jolt as she eagerly returned his kiss. James pulled away groaning.

Not here. He'd denied himself this long; he could wait a few more hours. He smiled as a plan formulated. "What's wrong?" She whispered, afraid at any moment she could wake up—or worse—he would push her away and leave her for good.

"Nothing. But it's time to go."

"Go? Where?" His bearing changed so abruptly.

"Well, I have to check into my hotel, and I do have to rehearse."

Cecilia's face fell. He was leaving her.

He caught sight of her face and a fierceness returned to his visage. "I'm not leaving you. You're coming with me. Get dressed."

"What?" Cecilia sat up. She'd fantasized about James for so long, she couldn't comprehend the reality.

James reached a hand out to her and pulled her off her tiny bed. "As soon as you're ready we're going."

He didn't watch her gather her clothes and redress. He gathered up all the bags they'd carried in and when Cecilia was presentable, he exited, expecting her to follow.

Follow she did. Her heart thrummed in her throat as she sat next to him in the car and contemplated events. They drove north to the Avenue of the Arts. The drive didn't take long. They parked the rental in a garage. James helped Cecilia out of the car and smiled. "I'm glad that you'll be there tonight."

"Be where?"

"You're coming to the concert. I had a ticket reserved for you, just in case."

Cecilia took a breath to absorb that it was no longer a request. It mattered very little. She did want to go. "I-I'm not sure I have anything to wear." They were in the hotel lobby and a man came with a brass luggage rack to take their bags.

James looked thoughtful as they waited to check in. "No? I'm sure you have something in your suitcases. Besides, if memory serves me, people dress fairly casually at the Kimmel. It's not like in Europe."

Cecilia nodded, still bewildered. James turned to the hotel clerk. "Room for Ashton, James."

"Yes Sir. It's all here. Will you be needing anything else?"

"Is it possible to upgrade my room? And I'll need to extend my stay for a few extra days." The reception clerk started typing rapidly. Everything was moving so quickly. Cecilia looked at James questioningly. "We'll need to collect everything you want to take with you... tie up the loose ends here before we go home."

Home. Cecilia hadn't been sure where home was for the past year. In her heart, home became the London townhouse with Abe, Clara, and James. She hadn't dared to speak of it that way. But suddenly she felt the magnitude of everything that had altered between herself and James.

"It's all set. You're booked until Tuesday, Sir. Enjoy your stay."

"I plan on it." James locked his gaze on Cecilia as he answered the bloke behind the desk.

He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

***

Cecilia's worry about appropriate concert attire turned out to be unfounded. Feeling strange and uncertain, she unzipped her garment bad and found the blue gown. A grateful smile spread across her lips at Clara's insistence.

The suite was beautiful and spacious. After setting her suitcase down and rediscovering her gown, Cecilia sat on a small loveseat, unsure of what to do now that she was here.

James set out his black dinner jacket and noticed Cecilia's uncertainty. "Cecilia?"

She looked up, somewhat startled by hearing her name pass his lips. "I have to rehearse. Why don't you relax and get ready for the night, and I'll come back for you? I shouldn't be longer than an hour or so, and Verizon Hall is only a few blocks down Broad Street."

"Yes, I remember." Of course she did.

"Alright then. I'll be back. You have my mobile if you need anything, and here's a key card to the room."

His fingers lingered over her hand and he couldn't resist pressing a kiss to her lips. Her shiver was all the response he needed. "I'll be back soon. Be good." It was more a playful suggestion than a warning.

The absence of James' presence gave Cecilia time to come to grip with the past few hours. She couldn't believe the change in James. After so long apart and his cool distance before he left, Cecilia was thrown off by having his intensity focused on her. He smiled more today than she'd seen in those few months in London.

The more fragile bit of her mind questioned the wisdom of being here. He hadn't really given her a choice. Had he? Did she care? She wondered if her enthusiasm at being with him now was even an appropriate response... And if that was the case, her responses to James back in her apartment certainly weren't appropriate. She sat for a few moments doubting her self-preservation instincts. Then the part of her soul that was euphoric at the change chimed in: He told you to get ready.

Months of aimlessness and purposelessness evaporated with his simple command.

Abe and Clara often made mild suggestions about ways to pass the time, but hearing James' expectations that she be ready slowly took over her whole being. She wanted to listen to him, and was felt calm as she fished for a hairbrush and her small makeup bag out of one of her suitcases.

She hoped, as she let the blue silk fall over her, that James would be pleased. Clara wasn't there to help with her hair and makeup, but as she ran fingers through her long hair, she thought she might have learned a thing or two from her friend.

When James reentered the suite, he saw Cecilia reaching awkwardly behind her trying to zip up the back of her dress. He smiled. "Can I assist you with that?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, and turned. James exhaled in a rush. "Cecilia, I should have told you before, but you look stunning in that dress."

"Thank you, Sir. Actually, could you get that zipper for me?"

He nodded. "I think you'll like your seat for tonight. I pulled a few strings."

"Anywhere would be fine. I'm just excited to go at all."

"Good. Because, I want you there. You declined earlier . . ."

So it wasn't really her choice then.

"No. I wanted to. I was afraid that—it would hurt too much—to hear you—for the last time."

"I understand." What else could he have expected? The way he brushed her aside in his studio, after laying herself bare? He felt that rejection once before. Nothing burned deeper than someone rejecting your innermost self. And no matter how well-intentioned, he'd inflicted that pain on Cecilia. "I have to finish the tour in New York and Boston before we fly back home. So it will be far from the 'last time.'"

He hoped if he reminded her that she would understand just how permanent a situation he believed this to be.

"Let me change my shirt and shoes."

It's one of life's great injustices that men can get ready for the same event in a quarter of the time it takes women, but in two winks, James and Cecilia were walking down Broad Street hand-in-hand to the Kimmel Center.

People stared at the couple. They were fantastically overdressed. James' debonair tux and Cecilia's evening gown were a bit over-the-top in Philly, but for once, Cecilia liked the attention. The walk was brief, and James was shown into the very back of Verizon Hall. He pulled a ticket out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her with a smile. "I got you a box."

"Oh!!" Cecilia wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but the way he said it, it sounded like a big deal. "I hope you didn't go to too much trouble."

He hadn't. The ticket people had been very accommodating. He was just happy she was going to be where he could see her. "I have to go backstage. I'll come collect you after the concert." He squeezed her hand and kissed her temple.

An usher led her to her seat. It was near the far edge of the stage, nearly perpendicular to where the musicians' chairs were arrayed. "

People started filing in shortly after, and the musicians also took their seats. Cecilia saw people continue to cast inquiring stares her way, but the excitement at being invited into James' world gave her a little extra boldness to help withstand the attention.

After an obligatory announcement to silence cell phones, the conductor crossed the stage and the entire room broke out in applause.

Cecilia wasn't familiar with the symphony the orchestra played, but her body appreciated it all the same. Her chest tightened and she felt physically supported by the lush sounds around her. The orchestra took very short breaks in between the movements, and Cecilia remembered the surprise and angst and passion that fed this sort of music. When it was completed, the audience stood and applauded until their hands grew numb.

There was a ten-minute intermission, after which, James would play his piece. Cecilia was excited. This music was alive to her, and she couldn't forget the effect James' playing had on her whole being.

***

James thoroughly enjoyed the "Fabulous Philadelphians'" symphonic performance. However, he noticed his palms sweating as they neared the climax of the piece. Was he nervous? Cecilia had been his muse for the past few months. Now that she was here and would be listening, he felt a bit jittery. It was less about the performance and more about her presence.

He shook himself. Tonight, he played for her.

The giant grand piano was in the center of the stage and there were no other musicians to share the spotlight. He walked with purpose to the instrument and caught a glimpse of sapphire. He stood to acknowledge the audience and his eyes sought her out. He nodded to her. Perfect: Cecilia would be just in his line of vision when he sat to play.

He breathed deep, closed his eyes for a moment, and spread his arms wide as if preparing to wrestle the instrument. Tonight though, the difficult piece would sound as if it were natural and downright easy to perform.