Chords that Bind Ch. 14: Sonata

From the moment he sounded the first hairy chord, James could tell that this piece was about to take him somewhere uncharted. Cecilia drew her hand over her mouth to silence her gasp. Her whole body tingled on high alert. She felt her insides coil tightly around the music James played. Or was it the music that wrapped itself around her soul? That first movement brought Cecilia back to James' studio. She was a voyeur again, but this time in the midst of hundreds of others. Or maybe the others were intruding on her and James. This time it would be different. This time when he stopped he wouldn't toss her out of his space. Cecilia felt an ephemeral sort of connection to James, as if the other audience members weren't even there.

In between movements, James flashed a peek at Cecilia, and each time he caught sight of her, he felt an inch more control over the masterpiece he played. During the slower, more expressive parts, James closed his eyes. He imbued the piece with his very soul. No other piece of music would have been right for this musical confession. Beethoven wrote this masterpiece for such a moment as this.

Cecilia's whole being awakened to the sound of James' performance. Her body was physically aroused and she felt desperation at wanting James to hurry and finish the sonata, and wanting it to last forever. The sooner he finished, the sooner she could be near him again. But something special was happening inside James' performance.

Cecilia and James didn't pay attention to the audience, but they too knew that they were witnessing something special. A few musical connoisseurs tore their eyes away from James long enough to share knowing glances with each other. Sir James M. Ashton's playing was now in a league unto itself.

Cecilia shifted in her seat, acutely aware of her liquid arousal pooling between her thighs. She recalled this suspended state of tension, but this time she didn't resent or revile her body's response. It seemed not only natural, but also right for James to have such an effect on her.

James reached the conclusion flawlessly. Once it was over, he exhaled rather loudly, somewhat drained by his performance. The audience too held its breath until almost as one, the whole room stood to applaud such an outstanding performance. A real smile graced James' usually stoic face. He directed his gaze back to Cecilia who clutched the brass railing of her box and looked at James with longing.

Shouts of "Bravo!" rained down on James who took his bow and nodded his thanks.

A few more voices called for an encore. James smile flickered for a moment, recalling Natasha's answer to that call. He shook his head and returned a fixed smile to his face. No. There was no way to follow up tonight's performance. There was no need to spoil the moment with an act of hubris. He directed another nod in Cecilia's direction and strode off stage.

People began to gather their things to leave, a rumbling whisper of amazement and appreciation filling the room. Cecilia just sat in her seat. She felt so alive and of this world, more attached to this life than she'd ever felt. James said he'd come back for her and she wasn't sure she could manage the wait.

The conductor and the concertmaster stopped James backstage to congratulate him on the night's performance. While pleased by the warm reception, James itched to escape the conversation and get to Cecilia. There were some arch comments about James' brief love affair with Natasha Dubnikov, but at that James cut them off, grimacing.

"Actually gentlemen, there's someone new in my life." He ignored the raised eyebrows and carried on, "and she's waiting for me."

The men nodded their understanding. "We'll see you tomorrow night then."

"Yes, thank you, gentlemen."

James set off at a brisk pace. He fought against the crowd and spotted Cecilia instantly, given away by the bright blue of her dress among the deep red velvet chairs and wood paneling of the hall. Cecilia started to wonder if James was coming back for her, or if he'd changed his mind.

Her worry was for naught though. James slowed his eager pace and reached for her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips for a kiss. She jumped at his touch, relaxed, and then smiled. James looked deeply into her eyes. She held his gaze for a second before looking down. "That was beautiful. If you don't mind my saying, thank you for bringing me here tonight."

James still held her hand. "I'm glad you could be here for that. It was your doing after all."

"What do you mean?"

"That performance was dedicated to you. And made possible because you were here." Cecilia looked confused and embarrassed.

"I owed you that, after the way I behaved." Seeing that she still didn't understand, he said with conviction, "I couldn't have given that performance without you here. It's never sounded like that before. That was the best performance I've ever given."

"Oh... Ummm..."

James saved her from responding. "I made late dinner reservations at Girasole, but if you'll indulge me, I was thinking I'd take you somewhere else. Is that alright?"

"Of course, is something wrong?"

"It's a great restaurant, but many of the musicians in the orchestra frequent it after concerts."

Cecilia's face fell. Maybe James didn't want to be seen with her.

He saw how she took his words. He lifted her chin to look at him. "You mistake my meaning. I simply don't want to share this evening with anyone else." He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and she leaned into his touch.

"You don't have to change your plans on my account."

"Of course I do. I think you'll like this place and it'll be nice and quiet."

"If you're sure," she acquiesced.

"It's my favorite place in Philadelphia."

***

James opened the door of their uber and helped Cecilia out. Le Virtu was on Passyunk Square far away from Broad Street and the steak houses that dotted the immediate vicinity around the Kimmel Center.

It was only an hour until closing, but the hostess assured them there would be no need to eat and run. "In that case, can we have two flutes of prosecco and a bottle of montepulciano?"

The hostess nodded and went to tell their server. James watched Cecilia pour over the menu, which read like an Italian encyclopedia. "Would you mind terribly if I ordered for you?" James worried about her response. Cecilia, for her part, was relieved. "No. I have no idea what to order." Upon sitting down at the candle-lit table, Cecilia's hands started to shake like leaves. "Just, nothing with raisins please."

James tilted his head at her and smiled at learning something new about her tastes. "I think I can work within those parameters."

When the server came with two flutes of prosecco, James ordered a series of dishes and asked for plates to share. "I've never had anything here short of outstanding. I thought we could share and try a few different dishes. Cheers!"

They clinked glasses and Cecilia murmured convivially, "Huzzah!"

James watched her savor the dry bubbly. Everything happened so unexpectedly today. But it was all irrevocable. James refused to turn back now that he had set a course for Cecilia and himself.

The carbonation tickled Cecilia's nose, and she remembered her dinner with Sebastian. She shook herself at the memory. This time she wouldn't have to worry about awkward questions. James knew everything already. The server brought bread and a dish of very green and fragrant olive oil. Cecilia nibbled on a piece and took in her surroundings, still amazed that she was here—with James.

James enjoyed watching her. It was a pure gift to watch her appreciate her surroundings. A plate of marinated burrata came out. "I insist. Have the first bite." It shouldn't have been sexy, watching someone eat, but he could tell as she savored the handmade cheese that she noticed the nuances. The soft moan of appreciation made James want to ask for the check right then and there.

Alas, he'd ordered a pasta dish, and a dessert. It was a sort of fitting punishment; Cecilia's delight at the delicacies he chose were at once wonderful and torturous. Her enjoyment at a homemade rabbit and plum ravioli dish with blush wine sauce was enough to have his cock raging. She spoke softly and deliberately, and her nervous shaking endeared her to him even more.

They were waiting for dessert when James said what had been weighing on his mind: "Cecilia, I owe you an apology."

This admission caught Cecilia off guard. Immediately, she wondered if he'd change his mind about her. "Why? What for?"

"I owe you an apology for nearly everything that's happened to you this past year. But... I'm mostly sorry for the way I treated you that day."

They both knew what "that day" was.

"I threw you out of my studio because I thought it was the right thing to do. I tried to distance myself from you because it would be taking advantage of you to act on my feelings. I should have just told you then what I felt for you, but I thought it would be unfair to you. I should have told you lots of things. I only wanted to do right by you. And I couldn't. I'm sorry."

Cecilia tried to respond, but he cut her off. "No. Let me finish: In the end, I couldn't resist you. If I were a proper gentleman, I would have let you go on with your life, but I can't. I'm sorry. You deserve better than me. I should have at least trusted you to make the choice, but I can't loose you again. I won't take that risk again."

Part of Cecilia registered that James' words implied that she had no choice in this, or that he wouldn't relent if she were to change her mind about him. Some strange twist of fate put Cecilia across James' path, and she wasn't sorry. She wanted nothing more than to believe that James meant all the words he was saying.

Over the course of their meal, Cecilia's trembling subsided, but hearing James' say the things he felt made the shaking start all over again.

"James—I don't know what to say, except—"

"No Cecilia, I know that I'm undeserving and unfair, but I'm not going to loose you again. Not while I think there's still a chance..."

"No Sir. You don't understand how afraid I am that this is a dream. I'm afraid I'll wake up at any moment. I don't care what you think you've done wrong. You saved me and I'm glad you did. Please don't keep saying that it should be otherwise. Whatever transpired between you and that man Lace, you didn't do anything wrong. He did. He hurt me. You..."

"I don't have the strength to resist you anymore, Cecilia." He paused as the server presented them with a homemade gooseberry crustada. "That's what I'm trying to say. I'm not able to let you go."

What he said should have been disturbing to her. But something about the way James said this made Cecilia feel more certain about her situation, a mercifully settled passed over her. As she thought these things, James watched not sure of her reaction.

Finally she gave him a response: "I don't want you to."

James stopped holding his breath.

The look he gave her was hard to read. She thought it was relief, but he hadn't looked uncertain just a moment ago, determined perhaps. With the matter settled to his liking, he changed tack and devoted attention to dessert. He held up his spoon to tap against hers, and they smiled as they tucked into the tart.

Once they were finished, it was past closing time and they were the last customers in the restaurant. Cecilia felt pleasantly buzzed. James called for another uber. This time, Cecilia moved close to him in the back of the car. He wrapped an arm around her and enjoyed seeing her relax in his presence.

He rhythmically tapped his fingers over her arm as if he were pressing keys on a piano. James recalled holding Cecilia in the back of the car the day they rescued her from the Welsh bastard's auction. She was still just as tiny, and he enjoyed the warmth of her body leaning against him. It was remarkable how well Cecilia recovered from that ordeal. Even still, every now and then her body trembled as if she were fending off a chill.

The ride back to their hotel wasn't long. They got out and James was eager to have Cecilia to himself. The anticipation was erotic enough, but Cecilia's sweet mannerisms and lovely behavior made James hard. She was every inch a submissive: from the way she allowed him to run the course of the evening and the way she surrendered to his commands earlier today, to her acceptance of his confession over dinner. James was glad he waited. But he also was happy the wait was over.

He restrained himself in the elevator, contented just to brush her hair over her shoulder to get a better view of her delicate neck and collarbone. Her neck was still unadorned for now and James wondered how soon he could remedy that.

Cecilia felt a subtle change drift over James. All night he'd been kind and attentive. Dinner was incredible and they simply got to know and understand each other better. His apology and admission calmed her. She slowly stopped wondering when she would come to and find she'd hallucinated the whole evening.

James' voice was low when they entered their room. "Stand still, and don't speak until spoken to."

Uncertainly, Cecilia whispered, "Yes Sir."

He'd loosened his tie as soon as he finished performing tonight, but now he pulled it off and opened his shirt collar. His dinner jacket came off and he offered Cecilia his forearms. He brusquely answered her questioning look, "The cufflinks." Her slim fingers fiddled with the finicky bits of onyx and brushed steel.

James rolled up his shirtsleeves to just above his elbows. She watched him from beneath her lashes, and he saw the nervous shaking return. It seemed an involuntary reaction, and James wondered:

"Cecilia, are you scared?"

"Umm... a bit... Sir."

"Tell me why." He worried that she was afraid he'd hurt her.

She blushed crimson. "I've never been in this situation before, Sir."

"Are you afraid of me?"

"No Sir. Not you. Just—I just..." she didn't want to talk about her previous encounters.

James braced himself for the answer. "Cecilia, do you want me to leave you alone?"

"No Sir." She replied almost too quickly.

"Cecilia, if you want me to stop, just say: 'red'. I'll listen to you. I promise."

Cecilia trusted his promises. Even if James thought he'd been going back on his word by taking her here tonight, Cecilia saw it differently. If he actually wanted her, then she didn't care. He brought her back to the States. Mercifully, he hadn't left her back at her little apartment. "Yes Sir."

"Tell me your safeword Cecilia."

"It's 'red,' Sir."

"Good girl."

Each time Cecilia said 'Sir,' James' desire burned hotter.

"Take off your shoes."

Cecilia stepped out of her heels without a word. Her feet ached and she was relieved to take them off. Her toes and ankles cracked as she did. She felt even smaller without them.

She was like a little pixie, James thought. He stepped behind her and pulled on the silver ribbon at the back of her gown. His fingers touched her shoulders softly and he took his time unzipping the blue silk.

She continued to tremble. The gown started to fall from her shoulders, pooling like water at her feet. She was left in a simple black bra and matching panties. She crossed her arms over her chest as if cold, but her face flushed red again as if she were still embarrassed. James couldn't believe how perfect she was as he stood in front of her. "Are you cold, or are you hiding yourself from me?"

Cecilia took a long time to answer. "Both Sir."

"Well, I can't have that." He crossed to the wall and fiddled with the thermostat. "It shouldn't take long to warm up. But I won't have you hiding yourself. That endearing modesty belongs to me now. Place your hands behind your head." Seeing her bow her head he added, "And stand up straight."

Cecilia swallowed. She'd be so exposed. And it was such a familiar position. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if she could do this. His voice was deep and barely audible. "Stay with me, Cecilia. Stay here with me." She felt his lips on her forehead and she opened her eyes. His hands rested on the smooth skin of her lower back. "You're with me now." With that declaration, James kissed her. The romantic action had an edge to it. James needed to possess more than her mouth.

The kiss reached her heart and her toes, and Cecilia realized that despite the similarities, this was, in fact, very different. She'd never been properly kissed before James. Her whole time in that place with Lace, she'd never been made to feel beautiful or valued. But everything James did made her feel all those things and more. She reached to pull him closer and run her fingers through his hair, but he broke the kiss and shook his head.

"No. Hands back where they belong Cecilia." She almost complained, but James brought a finger to her lips. "Shhhh. Be good."

She looked just the least bit pouty. James figured that in time, she'd be just a bit petulant, and smiled at the thought of needing to give her a spanking over his knee. The thought made his already hard cock throb uncomfortably. Tonight though, he would take one thing at a time—slowly. Her innocence was something to savor.

The angles her slight frame made as her arms returned to position entranced James, who still couldn't believe that she was here. He noticed her uncertainty all night, and knew he was the reason. He traced her arms and elbows and brushed her underarms, surprised as she wiggled and squirmed.

"Are you ticklish, Cecilia?" He ran his fingers over the sensitive spot again. She giggled and squirmed, trying to keep her arms up and shy away at the same time.

"Y-yes S-sir!" She gasped.

James catalogued that information too. "Very good. Take off your bra and panties," he directed.

She hesitated, knowing her panties were wet and that James was watching her every move. James watched her modesty battle with obedience. He didn't care how long it took. Her dilemma was adorable. While her reticence battled and lost, James looked on absently unbuttoning his own shirt, and putting it with his dinner jacket. It left him in a soft cotton t-shirt, which stretched enticingly over his muscular torso and broad shoulders.

James was still completely clothed, but his motions made Cecilia feel less isolated and uncomfortable. She shimmied out of her panties, oblivious to how sexy her every movement read to James. Even after everything that happened, she was still an innocent. She looked at him, nearly pleading with her eyes to be allowed to hide from his gaze. He didn't want to scare or push her. He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes and socks. Her nipples puckered as they met the cooler air. James needed to give them a pinch. First he asked, "Cecilia, do you want to stop?"

Why did he keep asking her? He kept giving her an out. She wanted him to stop giving her an excuse to back out. She felt foolish for not wanting to take it. She didn't want to say it out loud, but the last thing she wanted to do was stop. She was supposed to say "yes." That's what good, proper girls did. What was wrong with her that she wanted this so badly?

"Cecilia?" She hadn't answered, and James could tell she was somewhere in her mind and not with him.

"Yes?" the sound of her name brought her back.

"You want to stop?"

"No!" she replied quickly.

"Tell me." James needed her to be sure. As much as he wanted her, he wasn't going to push her if she wasn't ready.

"I don't—I don't want to stop, Sir."

James exhaled. "Come here then. Hands back where they belong."

Cecilia walked to where James sat on the bed, her body fully exposed by the position. James eyed her hungrily and for a moment Cecilia reveled in the fact that he wanted her. She licked her lips, uncertain of what was to come. His hands reached out and cupped her generous breasts. He massaged them for a moment, and just as Cecilia began to enjoy the sensation, his thumbs found her nipples. He rubbed them vigorously and then pinched them sharply. At her gasp, he pulled her another step forward. She stood close to him, almost between his legs, squeezing her own legs tightly together. James could see wetness glistening between her thighs. He was impressed by her bare pussy. He squeezed her pink nubs harder still and gave them a fast twist before letting them go, admiring the ruddy colour and the soft little whimpers she made.