Dark Notes

by Pam Godwin

Nothing is inconceivable, and everything is possible. The proof is in the magic of music.

Home is a fleeting feeling I’m trying to fix.

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.

It’s universally known that the more forbidden something is, the more desirable it becomes.

Beyond my hunger for discipline and pleasure, I feel this deep aching desire to provide for her in all ways.

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

The exquisite cadence pulses through me, awakening sensations I’ve never felt, composing a melody I’ve never heard. Our hypnotic, dark notes.

Christ, this girl… She’s my music, my place in this life, my part in it all.

“I’m afraid of hurting you.” He tilts his head in the opposite direction, a new angle, eating at my mouth as if he can’t reach deep enough. “But I’m not stopping, Ivory.” Another hungry kiss. “You’re mine.”

She’s in my head, like a whisper of promises. She’s in my heart, softening it, mending it, and making it pump again.

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

Sensations that have never been there before surge like a fever. I feel so damn hot and needy. For my teacher.

“When we’re together, Ivory, when it’s just you and me like this, happiness can only be limited by us. We make the rules and decide how this is going to go. Our world is as boundless and real as our feelings for each other.”

“Everything you do turns me on,” he whispers. “Especially the feminine motion of your body when you play. I want you naked, sitting at my piano and rolling your hips like you’re fucking the notes.”

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

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.

“Ah, fuck.” The headboard groans in his grip. “Look at you.” I open my eyes and collide with his, a smile pulling at my cheeks. “I’m fucking my teacher.”

He brushes his mouth against mine. “Trust me?” “Deeply.” His teeth catch my bottom lip. “Let’s go home and take care of your pussy.”

His tongue fucks my mouth the way his cock fills my pussy. Deeply, urgently, and completely unrestrained.

“We’re a timeless concerto.” I kiss his lips. “A musical masterpiece.”

“We’ll compose our own masterpiece.” His mouth glides down my neck, kissing and licking. “A song that will never end.”

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

I’m no prince, but when I’m buried inside Ivory, I will always come.

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

“So fucking tight.” He kicks his hips. “Leaking all over me.” He grunts, his fingers tightening against my hips. “Love your hot little cunt.”

We are the ultimate love song.

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.