Dark Notes

by Pam Godwin

“And all you need is a moment. Just make sure you’re there for it.”

But imagining her continuing her life without me evokes a toxic fume of poison so invasive I can smell the betrayal with every choking breath.

I’m proud of my achievements, but not when that lofty feeling distracts me from my hard-earned bitterness.

She’s exactly the kind of woman I’m drawn to. A woman who flees when hunted and comes alive when she’s caught. A woman who bends beneath punishments and seeks acceptance in her humiliation. A woman who bites at a heavy hand, only to melt around the unforgiving grip when it cuts her air.

I’m here to teach her, and that doesn’t include instructions on how to properly suck my cock.

I want to dig around inside her, carve out the useful facets of her misery, and obliterate the rest.

A twitch bounces in her cheek. “I hate you.” And I hate how badly I want to punish her mouth by shoving my cock in it.

“Here’s tonight’s lesson.” He erases the distance between us and leans into my space. “Don’t question me. Don’t lie to me. And never look away from me.” He straightens. “Sit down.” Those are ridiculous demands, but I find myself falling into the chair and locking my eyes on his.

In the depraved innards of my soul, I thrill at being the thing she fears. I want to claim her apprehension, dread, and uncertainty. I want to take ownership of all of her emotions and be the sole reason she trembles and cries.

are reminders that this isn’t just about what’s under her skirt. Beyond my hunger for discipline and pleasure, I feel this deep aching desire to provide for her in all ways.

three years.” He drums gnarled knuckles on the glass counter. “Whatever you’re doing with her, she wants to trust you.” His hand quiets, eyes unblinking. “The kind of trust she gives no one. But once you have what you want and discard her like your kind do, her distrust in men will be irreparable.”

“The things I want to do to you would give you nightmares.”

I would love to be loved, even if it comes with hatred. It’s better than nothing at all.

“Sometimes you love people you shouldn’t, and in the endless space of that love, nothing else matters.”

Ivory’s an intoxicating dream, the kind that visits a man at night, veiled by the darkness of dusk and safely pursued in the secret corners of the mind. But in daylight, she’s a dangerous fantasy, tempting a man to do things with his eyes wide open.

He doesn’t temper the hunger in his expression, but doesn’t act on it, either. It’s as if he’s letting it build naturally while keeping it contained.

As I stare at her, I realize with startling clarity she doesn’t need me to slay her past. She’s already lived it and came out the other side with more fortitude than any person I know. But she does need me to listen, to support her without losing my head, and most of all, to protect her from future harm.

“You’re mine. That means every inch of your gorgeous body, every thought in your head, and every word out of your mouth impacts me. Calling yourself dirty or any other offensive adjective is an insult to my girl, something I will not tolerate. Tell me you understand.”

He’s a deep well of discovery, and I hope he gives me the time and permission to learn everything about him.

His intensity smothers me, and his gravely noises shiver my skin. He’s a starving, growly man in need, and I want to feed him.

I died somewhere between my release and his. And now I know how it feels to be alive.

infuse my voice with authority, a tone that reminds her I’m the solution for her situation simply because I’m in charge, in control, and it is my purpose, above all else, to keep her safe.

Here, in this secluded suspension of time and space, nothing can break us apart.

The power is mine. I bask in it. His hands tremble, and I grab them, hold them, our fingers intertwined. I have him.

In the right hands, the piano can steal the soul. Clearly, his hands are made for the keys, because I don’t just feel the notes inside me. They devour me like a dark, voracious flame.

With my arms and legs hooked around him, I cling to the pillar of his torso. This brutal man is my home. His hell is my heaven. I’m his Ivory, and he’s my darkest note.

find that hard to believe. Anyone with half a brain must know that any love this man offers is more valuable than all the wealth in the world.

Her feistiness might be my fuel, but her obedience is my fucking fire.

Everything is perfect. Too perfect. Like life has handed me a song filled with soul-deep joy and told me to savor every note. Because eventually, the song will end.

We need each other, not because our bodies fit so well together, but because our hearts beat the same tune, for the same reason.

Oh God, this can’t be happening. How did he get out of jail? Why did he target this fucking house?

COme on bhes got to ha ve cameraseveeywhere

Whether it’s ruthless or gentle, giving or taking, every touch is a declaration of utter commitment.

He’s it for me. The zenith of my happiness. All roads, however perilous and winding, lead to this man, my teacher, the music of my soul.

Andrea Augustin?

Como who???

That someone is either Andrea Augustin or Prescott. Both knew I moved Ivory’s lessons to the theater, and both have a reason to fuck me over. But if they set me up, they would know it was me in the footage.

Literally the book hs bevermw tioned her....oh waif is that the teacher?

Words aren’t needed because we have something better. Our own notes. It’s just us and our song, the tune pulsing between us, nourishing, fusing, and making us one.