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His eyes widened. “I can’t believe it. The haunting fire.”
He took my hand and walked us faster, weaving past the people in the aisle between the booths at the market. I could hear the sound of music ahead. The closer we got, it was clearly a violin and piano. The song playing was familiar, though I couldn’t place it. Paul slowed to where they were set up on the corner of an avenue next to a restaurant. The young female played the violin, and a male sat before a keyboard. A few people were standing nearby, listening.
Paul became absorbed as they continued to play the obsessive melody.
“I’ve heard that song before,” I whispered to Paul. “Do you know what it is?”
“It’s “Absolution”, a song I wrote with Aubrey…she never played it the same way. It’s our song that never ends.” Paul’s gaze remained riveted on them, though a bit wistful.There was beauty in the blend of piano and violin, a haunting marriage, as the music swirled together in sync like birds murmuring in the sky. The song was indeed a magnificent creation and as compelling as other songs I’d heard from Paul. Yet, the music clung to a melancholy that stifled my mood. Had Paul and Aubrey’s original intention of the piece be this sorrowful? I didn’t want to spoil it. Only stood humbly with him, appreciating that in the billions of people on this earth, we were brought together at this moment for Paul to have his love with Aubrey honored. And for that, I was grateful.
The song came to its end, and Paul reached into his pocket and emptied the money into an open hat. The performers thanked him and eyed him curiously.
He came back to stand next to me as they moved on to play another song. I placed my head on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
He kissed the top of my head. “I am. Aubrey and I played together like this once on the Charles Bridge in Prague.”
“Really? That sounds like so much fun.”
“It was.…” He lowered his eyelids, a small smile on his face.
“You can talk about Aubrey anytime you need to. Your love for her matters, and it shouldn’t be suppressed.”
“Thank you. It just caught me off guard. I’m surprised to hear the song, and I’m more surprised I’m not sad about it this time. It felt good.” He sighed and hugged me to his side.
They started to play Carly Simon’s “Nobody Does It Better” from The Spy Who Loved Me. I started to sing softly. The musicians stopped and gestured for me to continue.
I smiled and shook my head.
“No, keep singing.” Paul took my hand.
“Yes…you sing,” the pianist said, and violinist nodded in agreement. “We’ll start over?” They all look at me expectantly.
“Can you let Paul play?” I asked them in my broken French.
The pianist and the violinist looked at Paul again, and their eyes widened. They walked to him and shook his hand as they spoke French. I understood from the conversation that they told him they loved his music and thanked him for his kindness.
The man motioned for Paul to sit before his keyboard, and Paul reluctantly agreed. He sat down and started to play, and his expertise was evident. I knew the song, but I hadn’t sung it before strangers.
“Nadia.” Paul started to play the beginning chords, and our gazes locked, and everything faded away. The song was pure poetry, pure emotion. It was about loving an extraordinary man. I tapped into how captivated I was by him and everything he did. How he made me fall so helplessly in love with him.
Paul’s expertise flourished as he skillfully played the song and guided my voice. And to my surprise, the violinist took up her instrument and joined in. I never sang with a violin. The strings mirrored my vocals in harmonies, which brought on an eager strength and haunting vibration to the piece. I added embellishments as I sang, and their accompaniment followed. It was enlivening. I swayed freely, but my attention never strayed too far from Paul. I serenaded him, my hand over the center of my chest. His soft gaze on me brought tears to my eyes. The song ended, and people around broke into applause. Paul gave the musicians handshakes, but he always kept me in his sight, and sparks charged between us. He came over and pulled me into his body, and his lips crashed against mine as he engulfed me in his arms; I gasped and tightened my hands on his neck.
Paul took my hand, and we broke into a jog, rushing us down narrow streets until he stopped outside a closed shop and held me close. He kissed me again, with a commanding passion that took my breath. My adrenaline surged and my pulse spiked. I was surrounded by his scent, his heat, his lust. “Fuck, look what you do to me.” His knee pushed between my thighs, and I writhed against it, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more, and so did Paul.
His hands moved inside the top of my dress to touch my bare skin. Yes. Touch me. Touch me all over. His head moved between my breasts, where he kissed and licked. I gripped his head and arched my back, moving my nipple to his mouth to suck, and I shivered as he suctioned on it.
“Just strip me here, fuck me,” I said breathlessly.
Paul moaned between breaths as he warned. “I’ll do it.” He kissed back up to my neck and sucked. I arched closer, moaning and pleading. Do it, Paul.
His hand went under my dress and inside my thong, stroking my pussy. I opened my legs wider, inviting him to do more. “I’m so wet.”
“You are, my love.” His fingers rubbed in circular motions, then pushed in. He let out a guttural groan. “You need my cock.” I moved my hips as he fucked me with his fingers. But it wasn’t enough. He ripped the fabric and yanked it off. Our tongues tangled together.
Reaching down between us, I clasped his hard erection in his trousers, stroking him harder. “I need you, my love.”
“Damn it, Nadia.” He cursed, kissed me, undid the front of his trousers, lifted me, and placed me on the top step before he thrust inside me. Fuck.
I wrapped my legs around him as he drove his dick in hard, brazen. My fingers scraped his shoulders. “Oh, fuck, take me hard.”
