As Emma wandered through Jefferson's house, she felt a familiar shiver spread through her body. There was something about drifting through his house alone that left her unsettled, no matter how much time she spent there. It was too big, too silent. The cavernous home was made for a Waltonesque family, not a widowed father and his only child. Even if she and Henry moved in, and brought Snow and Charming with them, the mansion would still feel massive and mostly empty.
Stop that right now, she told herself. It was much too soon to think about combining households, even in casual, passing thought. Emma paused and took a deep breath. With someone as intense as Jefferson, it was easy to get caught up and swept away. She knew she should be trying her damnedest not to be, well, swept along, yet she knew she was making a half-hearted effort, at best, to remain distant and properly pace their relationship, whatever that meant. Hers was a lifetime spent starved of love, and now it was coming at her full force, from all directions. It, and he, was hard to resist.
She had woken up in an empty bed. That in itself was not unusual, but the timing of it left something to be desired. Moonlight streamed through the vast windows, illuminating the sumptuously decorated room and revealing that Jefferson was not there. After squinting at the clock and determining it was somewhere around midnight, Emma had tossed and turned, attempting to fall back asleep but knowing she was really waiting for him to return. She had sighed in frustration and left the room, clad only in one of his shirts.
Emma had never spent the night before. Oh, she had wanted to, but she made it a policy early on to never spend the night when both Henry and Grace were at their respective homes. Despite Jefferson's pleading and cajoling, it was a milestone she wasn't ready to meet. As a result, most of their... quality time occurred during the day or early evening, and always with a definite time limit. But Charming had taken Henry camping the same night Grace was attending a sleepover, and Emma hadn't even finished her sentence before Jefferson had cut in, excitedly making plans for her to stay over. There were times when resisting him wasn't so much difficult as it was impossible. Truth be told, she was tired of saying no, and as much as she was loath to admit it, she wanted to wake up with him.
Key words: with him. So where was he?
She traced her fingers against the walls as she slowly walked around. The workroom was empty, as was Grace's bedroom. The playroom and the multitude of guest rooms also did not yield any results. And then she heard the music.
Of course.
Jefferson was in the drawing room, playing softly on his grand piano. She lingered in the entrance, leaning against the doorway as she listened to him play a piece that sounded vaguely familiar. It was gentle, hypnotic, tranquil. It seemed to move slowly, deliberately, as it built to a slight crescendo, only to peacefully subside. Emma had no doubt that this was the kind of music people listened to when they wanted to daydream, when they wanted their thoughts to drift along like clouds in a sunny sky.
The music should have relaxed her. It should have calmed her to the point where she could have curled up on his sofa to go back to sleep. Instead, as she watched his hands deftly move across the keys with grace and care, she knew she wanted to feel those hands on her body. She left her post at the door and moved towards the piano.
He continued to play as she sat beside him on the bench. "I didn't want to wake you," Jefferson said. "So I thought I'd play something soft... quiet... something that would let you dream." He paused. "But I had to play." The piece built towards its final crescendo and then died down for the last time, the final, sparse notes echoing throughout the room.
There were a million things Emma could have said in response. She should have offered soothing, comforting words-anything that showed empathy and understanding. She opted to lean forward and kiss him. Her hands wandered to his face, his hair, tracing and entangling tendrils everywhere. It wasn't a storybook kiss-it wasn't a chaste caress, the kind her father had bestowed upon her mother, so still and quiet in her glass coffin. This was a kiss filled with need, with longing, with heat.
He met her need with his own, moving her so that she was suddenly sitting on top of him. Emma shivered as his hand slowly ran down the curve of her neck, trailing down to her arms, then under her shirt, cupping her breasts. As his fingers brushed her nipples, she could no longer resist, moaning slightly. She felt her breath hitch as she responded in kind, shifting slightly so that she could unzip his trousers. She lightly stroked his cock before moving upwards to unravel the cravat he was still wearing. After everything, he was still self-conscious about his scar. Emma let the lush piece of fabric drop to the floor as she briefly ran her tongue along the old wound. Leaning back to look him in the eyes, she smiled. "I missed you." So simple, so true. The truth is usually simple, she thought for a fleeting moment, before her senses were assaulted, and her thoughts obliterated, by the feel of Jefferson's lips on her own.
He began to stand up, lifting Emma and setting her on top of the piano's keyboard. The keys let out a squalling, cacophonous sound as she struggled to find stable ground. She wrapped her legs around him, bracing the balls of her feet against the piano bench. He impatiently undid her shirt, and she returned to the favor, wanting to feel every inch of his bare skin. He pressed his lips to her neck, teeth grazing her skin as his fingers searched and probed for her swollen clit. Jefferson sank to his knees, his mouth working its way down her body. As he nibbled on one inner thigh, then the other, he stroked her, his fingers delving into her molten heat. Just as her frustration began to mount in earnest, he tasted her, running his tongue up and down the opening at the apex of her thighs. When he came to the tiny bundle of nerves at her core, he swirled his tongue around before sucking hard on it.
Emma's eyes had been closed as she reveled in the sensation of his mouth lapping and caressing her, but at that, they flew open as she gasped. She surrendered herself to the overpowering sensations of pleasure that were spreading throughout her body. Heartbeats later, her body responded uncontrollably, and she let out a cry as she spasmed. Vaguely hearing the melody the piano keys played below her, she knew it wasn't anything close to a properly composed song, but it still sounded beautiful to her.
Standing back up, Jefferson kissed her greedily, wrapping one arm around her waist as his other hand tangled itself in her hair. She pushed his pants down and fondled his cock and balls. He let out a guttural moan and leaned forward as he rubbed the head against her sopping wet cunt. He slid inside her and paused, drawing a shaking breath before beginning to thrust. His long, clean strokes were slow at first, but Emma moved with him, adding a twist of her hips and using her legs to catch him as he pulled back. They moved together, the sounds of his hips slapping against her thighs mingling with stray piano chords to resonate throughout the room.
Emma tilted her head back and dropped one arm to the piano, feeling as limp as a rag doll as their joining began to push her body back up the peaks of sensation. She was dimly aware of a strangled, almost sobbing sound; with a slight start, she realized it was coming from her. She tried to slow her breath and danced away from him a little, wanting to delay the inevitable, wanting to prolong this absolutely exquisite feeling. She began to wiggle against him, striking an inconsistent rhythm, feeling the urge to stop without actually stopping.
He snorted, apparently on to her strategy, as he slowed down, alternating thrusting and withdrawing from her. "Not ready?" Jefferson whispered as he pushed in as deep and as far as he go, before pulling out completely.
She tried to respond but her voice failed her. She sat up and kissed him hard before croaking, "Don't stop."
He shot a smug grin at her and let out a short laugh. "Emma. Don't you know? I'm never going to stop loving you like this." With that, he slipped back into her, slamming her with so much force she was certain the grand piano moved backwards. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, raking her fingers down his back, feeling overcome with the need to be as close to him as possible.
Jefferson continued to push into her with greater speed and urgency, and the thought that he was pounding at her the way he pounded away at the piano briefly crossed across her mind. He snaked a hand between her legs and rubbed at her clit with his thumb. She let out a choked cry and shuddered at the flood of pleasure spreading throughout her body, a feeling so intense it was almost painful. Jefferson's strokes grew shorter and quicker; a rumble rose in his throat, spilling out in a long, low moan as he throbbed within her. He slumped over her for a second, kissing a bare shoulder, paler than normal in the moonlight, and then drew her back on top of him while he sat down on the bench.
Emma's head was swimming, joy surging through her body. She leaned her forehead against his cheek, trying to catch her breath. They sat in silence, both too spent to move. Jefferson brushed the tendrils of hair out of her face and kissed her gently. "Seducing me at my piano," he teased. "I didn't see that one coming. Wonder what you'll do when I play the guitar for you."
She had to laugh at that. "Make sure to sing too. Women love being serenaded, I've heard."
He gave her a serious, but sweet smile. "Is that what you would love?"
Emma exhaled deeply, wondering if her pulse would ever return to a steady rate. Unlikely, she decided, as long as she was around him. "Maybe." She closed her eyes and smiled at the thought. "Try it anyway."