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“Rio?!” Beth calls out over her shoulder, staring in to the room that used to function as Dean’s study.
She had moved one of her reading chairs in here and a torchiere floor lamp, redistributed some art from her bedroom on to the walls to make it feel less cold, but apart from the desk pushed in to the far corner of the room, almost everything had been cleared out when Dean left with finality.
It had remained sparse and largely unused, empty until Beth had time to decide what she really wanted to do with it.
Empty until today, at least.
Because now there’s a piano dominating the space.
A piano she certainly didn’t buy and has no knowledge of.
It’s huge. Nothing like the walnut baby upright she had begged for as a kid. That she had spent six years playing with love until – well – until she came home one day and it was gone.
No - this is one of those wildly expensive baby grand pianos that would look more at home in a concert hall. It’s polished ebony finish catching her eye as soon as she came in from work. Stopping her in her tracks. Speaking to something hushed and hidden deep within her, a little breathless from the shine.
“Hey, darlin’. Whassup?”
Rio bounces round the corner from the dining room where he’d been waiting for her, set-up with the books, finishing off a text on his phone before shoving it in to his back pocket and strolling towards her with purpose.
“What’s this?” Beth flails her right hand out in accusation.
Rio comes to a stop at her back, sliding his hands around her waist with slow familiarity, kissing in to the tingly spot just below her ear with such force she nearly sways to the side, before leaning his face against hers, his beard noticeably shorter and softer as it brushes her cheek.
Her left hand lifts to blindly inspect it, cradling his face as she strokes down his jaw. “Surprise.” He drawls playfully, “S’nice right?” dropping his head to nuzzle her neck, “You like it?”
“It’s - a piano.” She says brightly.
“It is.”
“It’s a giant piano.”
Rio hums against her, ghosting his lips over the shell of her ear. “You smell good.”
She’d been in such a daze this morning it wasn’t until lunchtime that she realised it had been Rio’s cologne, not her perfume, that she had sprayed herself with before leaving for work. “I smell like you.”
“Like I said.”
“Rio, why is there a baby grand in my study?”
He sighs as he straightens up, bringing his hands to her shoulders, grabbing the collar of her coat so he can pull it off.
“Thought you’d like it, mama.” He tugs the sleeves off her wrists and Beth turns to face him when he takes her coat to the hook in the hallway by the door, watching him hang it. “Room’s been empty for ages – remembered your sister said you played – thought you could show me what you got.”
He steps back over, coming to stand in front of her, smirking as he takes in her confusion, and now that she’s looking at him she can see how clean-shaven he is, just the lightest shadow left behind. Jarring in how much younger it makes him look, how it reminds her of him when they first met.
He remembers she played?
“It’s too much.” Beth stutters out, “And a normal person would ask before furnishing someone else’s house.”
“We ain’t normal people and you’re not just someone else.”
“Oh yeah, what am I then?” fluttering her eyelashes up at him as he tugs on the front of her dress.
Girlfriend felt too small. Partner felt too boring. Lover felt too theatrical.
“You’re mine.”
She’d normally roll her eyes, chew him out for being possessive, but right now – she just likes it. The unspoken And I’m yours that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them in the way his hazy eyes drink her in.
Beth huffs on a soft laugh, turning back to the piano as Rio holds her gently from behind again.
It really is beautiful. Something coming to life in her fingertips. Old lessons, sounds, the way the pedals felt under her feet, sheets of music that Annie used to scribble on in red crayon. Her mother’s clear voice, singing the words to her songs. Her father sitting next to her on the bench, the grounding warmth of his shoulder, his smile full of pride as they played duets together.
A pocket of happiness. Tucked away in the Before section of her mind, bubbling to the surface now.
Beth leans back in to Rio’s chest, almost trust-falling in to him as she uses his weight to counter hers, starting to step out of her heels. He wordlessly lifts his large hands, spreading his fingers over her rib cage to support her when he notices, holding her tight to him so she doesn’t wobble. She places her hands on top of his as she kicks off the shoes and drops a few inches in height.
He lets her go as she steps towards the piano, finally running her fingers over the sleek finish, the curved edge, the wide, flat expanse of the lid. Already curious what it might sound like when she props it up and plays, how the sounds will reflect and fill the house.
“I can’t make the room just for this - just for me.” she sighs. She had been thinking about a playroom for the kids, somewhere they could mess up that wasn’t the living room or the den.
“Why not? He did.”
Beth turns her head to Rio, watching her from the door as she runs her hands over the piano. His brows pinched together like what she said didn’t make sense.
And yeah – Dean had kept this room as his for so long that she never thought much of it. Even after his stuff was gone, her knee-jerk reaction when she looked in or passed by was Dean’s Study.
“Besides,” Rio wanders over, coming to stand next to her, his hip pressed in to the piano edge. “ain’t Jane been harassing you for a piano so she can keep learnin’ after her classes? I dunno - could be somethin’ you do together.”
Beth stares up at him over her shoulder, something lived-in and unselfish in his open look. Something tangled up with the memory of telling him about Jane’s pleas. Something hard to speak through building in her throat as she takes in his sincere face.
She sighs as she turns to him, reaching up to run her fingertips down the smooth line of his cheekbone, the muscle jumping under her touch.
“You shaved.” She whispers.
“I did.”
“Grow it back.” She commands softly, eyes teasing.
Rio growls with faux frustration, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, pouting as he pulls her in to his arms. “You said it was scratchy.”
“Maybe I like scratchy.” She shrugs a shoulder playfully.
She had grumbled when he made her neck raw the other day with where he’d been latched on to it, kissing down every inch of her body slowly, leaving a trail of tingly red. Her chest. Her inner thighs. And her – well everywhere. His beard just that little bit longer in a way that left her skin pink and tender.
She’d made a throwaway comment about shaving it down because it scratched her skin so much. She didn’t think he’d actually do it.
“Aight, then. Gonna remind you of that next time you get all grumpy ‘bout it though.”
Beth giggles when he runs his hands down over her ass and pinches, flicking her eyes to the piano then back to his. “Thank you.” She says genuinely.
“You’re welcome, mama.”
“I’m still not believing you bought this just out of the goodness of your heart. You always want something.”
“Baby, c’mon now. Why you always assume I got a motive? Maybe I just wanna watch my girl play some keys, yeah?”
Beth narrows her eyes at him like please, waiting for him to just say it.
His eyes drop down to her lips and focus there, a devious lift to the corner of his mouth, his voice a crackly whisper when he speaks. “And maybe I wanna see you spread out on top of it, wearing nothin’ but that black lace thing I like - sayin’ my name all breathless and shit.”
“There it is.” She smirks, rolling her eyes at the image he painted, ignoring the way his hoarse voice makes her tremble.
* * * * *
It was a quick dinner with Rio while they both tried to make sense of the books, the math not adding up for what felt like hours, a stack of counterfeit ten dollar bills next to their noodles that Rio said had come from some inexperienced new players in town. That he’d already ‘handled it’ but thought she’d get a good laugh out of seeing the cash they’d been trying to wash through his guys.
And she had. It was garbage.
She was clearing their dishes away when Rio got a call from Marcus, his sniffly voice saying Daddy and Nightmare audible among his little sobs down the phone and he’d mouthed a Won’t be long before taking himself out in to the garden.
Ten minutes pass and she pours herself another bourbon, wandering around the living room, still in her floaty navy dress, still barefoot. The thought has her drifting back to the study – or she guesses – the piano room now - to collect her heels.
She doesn’t pick them up though. Drawn to the piano, setting her bourbon down on the desk before moving towards it. She thinks about how excited Jane will be when Dean drops the kids off tomorrow, how she can’t wait to hear her playing music while she’s in the kitchen. Maybe she could sit next to her while she plays, maybe she could join in like her father used to.
The nostalgia of it makes her dizzy, something hot behind her eyes and she finds herself moving to sit on the long, tufted cushion bench, reaching to lift the fallboard up and securing it.
She wiggles, getting comfortable, stroking her fingers over the white and black keys – and maybe it’s the bourbon or the tidal wave of warm memories or the silence of the house or the fact that Rio’s outside and probably won’t hear – but she starts playing.
She’s surprised to find she still knows what she’s doing, her hands moving a little slower as they follow an old, familiar path - but the motions are assured. A song she remembers playing so many times, something old and easy and jazzy.
She retraces the beginning of the song a few times, a little more confident in the press of her fingers, and the words bubble up in her throat on instinct, singing the lyrics she knows so well, filling the gap of her mother’s voice with her own.
I'm confessin' that I love you,
Tell me, do you love me too?
I'm confessin' that I need you,
Honest I do, need you every hour.
Beth had always thought she had quite a nice singing voice, sweet and warm, but she could never sing in front of other people. When her Dad asked her to sing along with him she would frown and insist on just playing. Always marveled at the confident way her mom would sing loudly and carefree.
Even now, on her own, she sings quietly, to the back of her hands.
In your eyes I read such strange things,
But your lips deny they're true,
Will your answer really change things
Making me blue?
“So you sing too, huh?”
Beth startles - her fingers jumping away from the piano keys and her throat closing up - twisting on the bench to see Rio’s body leaning against the door frame, watching her.
“What are you doing?!”
“Enjoying the show.” He shrugs, arms folded across his chest, eyes still managing to sparkle in the low light, and she just – the warmth there – the affection – something desperately approaching awe - she can’t look directly at it without feeling overwhelmed. “Don’t stop on my account.” He urges. “What’s the song?”
“I don’t – I can’t sing in front of people.” Beth tucks her hair behind her ears nervously, feeling her cheeks heat up as she traces the navy string bracelet on her wrist.
“You just did.”
“I didn’t know you were - - god, how long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to know how pretty you sound.” He purrs, voice thick and earnest, tilting his head to the side, his knee swinging a little where his foot is propped up.
Beth flusters, huffing out a nervous laugh, picking at a buried button on the cushion of the leather bench.
She sighs, lifting her gaze from the bench to smile at him now that she’s calmed down after her initial embarrassment. “‘I’m Confessin’ That I Love You.’” She mumbles.
But something strange flickers across his face, his jaw tightening, and he doesn’t say anything. Just stares at her in – stunned surprise? His fingers pressing in to his forearms.
And it’s then she realises what that sounded like – and – oh god – no –
“The song –” she blurts out, hands flailing between them, trying to swipe away the awkward moment lingering in the air, “That’s the – that’s what it’s called. The name of it. You asked what it was so I was just – yeah.”
She clears her throat, tries to act casual, but she knows her cheeks are flushed, can feel herself blinking too fast, but the blank expression on his face suddenly smooths in to a charmed smile and she settles.
“Right, right. Think I know that one.” His eyes flash with something as he says it, before he’s pushing off the door frame and walking towards her, sitting down next to her on the bench.
Beth turns herself back so they’re shoulder to shoulder, leaning in to his side a little, feeling his eyes on her face as she looks down at her hands, twisting in the loose fabric of her dress.
“My mom used to sing it around the house. All the time. Until – well – anyway.”
She can see him nodding in her periphery, moving slowly so he doesn’t spook her. His right hand lifts almost in slow-motion to rest on her thigh, rolling his thumb over her knee. Sensing that this is difficult for her, her mom something she’s never spoken to him about before, letting the silence hang comfortably for a moment.
“My brother used to play, y’know.”
Beth whips her head to look at him, smirking when he notices her shock.
He has a brother?
It feels like something she should know - but she was so grateful for the way he’d never pushed her to talk about her childhood or her family, how he just knew it was something she didn't want to delve in to, that she didn’t want to unfairly probe in to his.
“Oh, yeah?” she stutters - aims for casual but misses.
“Mhmm. Before he got too cool for it.”
She laughs, tries to picture a person that Rio thinks acts too cool and is eaten up with curiosity.
What’s his name? Older or younger? Are you close? Do you see him often? Where is he now? Is he like you? Is he alive?
“That’s a shame. That he gave it up, I mean.”
“Nah, he was so bad.” He shakes his head, clearly reliving a funny moment, fingers tickling over her knee in swirly patterns, “Was a blessin’, trust me.”
He beams at her and she can’t help but mirror it, can’t help the way her heart squeezes as he laughs easily. His heavy-lidded eyes sliding over her face, the deep orange light from the lamp in the corner making him almost glow, golden and soft.
He leans over to kiss her gently – and it’s different without his beard, smoother in a way she guesses she could get used to - before pulling back and patting her leg.
“C’mon, then. Show me somethin’ else.”
Beth groans playfully, leaning away, but he loops his arms around her waist and hauls her up and over in to his lap. She squeaks as she finds balance on his right thigh, steadied by his arm wrapped behind her back, clutching at the dip in her waist.
“I can’t think of anything else to play.” She protests halfheartedly.
“Sure you can, don’t do me like that.” He drawls, nipping at her shoulder.
Beth’s mind races through all the basic songs she ever learned, songs she knows she could play even now, when she gets an idea.
“What if you played it with me?”
He pouts, shaking his head at her like she’s being ridiculous, “Elizabeth -”
“I’m serious, I’ll play something really simple, it has two parts, you can do the easy bit.”
She knows he’d normally flip it on her, bargain, turn it in to a game, but she can also see him thinking about it, can see that she has the leverage, that the main thing he really wants right now is just – just to watch her play the piano again.
“How easy?” he huffs.
“So easy.”
He finally juts his chin out, a wordless Go on then and Beth grins triumphantly, placing her hands back on the keys.
“Okay, so - you ever heard of Heart and Soul?”
“Aw, yeah, we always got that playin’ at the bar. How’d you know?” he mocks, but she just lifts her eyebrows at him unimpressed. “Yeah, mama. Not so much.”
“You might recognise it when you hear it.” She assures him. “So –” she places her right hand on the keys, “this is my part,” and she plays the bouncy tune of the song, one of the first things she ever learned, pleased to find she barely has to think about it, muscle memory kicking in.
She can feel Rio’s eyes on the side of her face, quietly watching, quietly adoring. She catches it as she finishes playing and turns back to him - the dazed, dumb look on his face turning in to a satisfied grin.
“And this is your part -” reaching out her left hand to the middle C of the piano, playing the simple melody that follows the lyrics of the song.
“And that’s it. See?”
He’s squinting at her when she turns back, chewing his bottom lip.
“You gonna sing this one for me too?” he purrs, deliciously low and raspy as he lifts his left hand to brush her bangs aside.
Her breath catches, swallowing as her throat goes dry, never able to control the visceral reaction she has when he uses his voice against her like this. And she almost says yes simply because it’s how her body feels in his arms, when the lyrics of the song run through her head and sober her.
No - there was no way she could sing that for him.
“I – can’t think of the words.” She pinches her brow, feigning ignorance.
“Uh huh.” His tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth as he eyes her knowingly, snake-like, distracting, before biting back a grin. “Aight then, walk me through it.”
He lays his free hand on the keys, waiting for instruction.
“You okay using your left?”
“Always.” He smiles lewdly, dragging his eyes down her body, lingering on the bottom edge of her dress, bunched up on her thighs.
Then he rocks her off his knee in to the cradle of his body, sliding her so she slips on to the bench, to the space between his thighs, bracketing her with his legs, widening them to make space for her hips so he’s sitting behind her, shuffling to his left a little so he can see clearly over her shoulder.
Beth turns to look up at his face next to hers, “This isn’t exactly the best position to show you from.” She wiggles her hips back on the bench so she’s balanced, rubbing her ass against his groin, catching the tight grunt he makes as she does so.
“I disagree.” He mumbles, all pleased, running his right hand over her rib cage, thumb tracing the underwire in her bra through the thin cotton of her dress.
Beth ignores his roaming fingers and places her left hand on top of his on the piano. Moves his hand to the correct section of keys.
“So - the first thing you do is press this key, C, with your middle finger three times –” she does it first, and then he copies, a little gracelessly, but it’s impossible for him to mess up.
“Then pause, middle finger C again, ring finger B, little finger A – you got it?” He copies, then stops with his little finger holding down the A key, a committed mhmm as he waits for the next step.
“Okay, then you just reverse that all the way till your index finger gets to this key here –” pointing to the white D key between two blacks.
He nods, watches her play the sequence so he gets the rhythm then repeats. “Got it.” He mutters proudly, and Beth tries not to stare at the veins on the back of his hand, the way his long fingers deftly roll over the keys.
She clears her throat, “Then you jump to the E key, and tap that three times, like you did at the start, same rhythm. So it should sound like this -” and she plays, humming the tune of the song as she goes.
“You wanna try that so far?” she turns to him, voice breathy as she looks in to the jet black of his eyes, his slow blinking making her want to lay kisses over his eyelids.
He nods and turns back to the piano, Beth’s left hand lifting to lay on the back of his, her fingertips tapping the knuckle of each finger as he plays, guiding him just in case, but he gets it just fine.
Beth shifts in her seat, gearing up to teach the next part, when she feels him through his jeans, hard against her ass.
“Rio.” She scolds.
“What? You’re in my lap bein’ all sweet and shit, what do you want from me?”
She gestures at the piano, at what had been quite an innocent lesson so far, “How is this turning you on?”
“Cause it’s you.”
It does something in her gut – the way he unravels at the strangest things. At her gentleness as well as her harshness, the way he responds to this side of her, undone by both the light and the dark, both compounded by the other.
And she gets that. Because whenever his hands are impossibly gentle, she thinks of them caked in blood from too many hits to a strangers cheekbone – and it just makes her want to get lost in his skin and feel it all.
And he’s looking at her like that now.
His left hand comes to rest low on her stomach, stroking circles down her belly as he drops his head to her neck.
He mouths at her throat. Sticky, drawn out kisses. His hot breath making her skin tingle and she gasps as his left hand drops lower between her thighs, cupping her through her dress.
“You sure you don’t wanna sing for me?” he rasps, the sound low and thick as he bites at her shoulder.
Beth drops her head back, shaking a breathless no as she rolls her hips a little in to his hand, aching for more friction.
Rio hums encouragingly when he notices, then lifts his lips to her ear, his crackly voice sending tremors throughout her body when he whispers, “You know I can make you sing, baby.”
His left hand slides to the inside of her thigh and strokes down to her knee, opening her leg out as far as it will go at this angle. Then he lifts her calf up high so her bare foot lands with a thud on the low notes of the piano, creating an ominous bass sound in the room that makes them both laugh.
She reaches behind her, grabbing his neck for support. Her leg is wide out to the left, her toes curling in to the piano keys as he strokes his fingers back down the path of her knee, her inner thigh, fingers rubbing over the damp cotton of her panties as he sucks on the skin by her ear, nudging the fabric aside and slipping two fingers in to her, achingly slow, right to the knuckles she’d just been tapping.
Beth whines, pinching her nails in to the wing on his throat as she cries out from the feeling.
“Yeah, just like that.” He chokes in to the nape of her neck, and she can feel the tilt to his lips against her skin as he smiles.
He builds her up slowly, drawing out every pulse of his fingers, the obscene wet sound of her cunt, his panting breath in her ear and her left foot rocking against the piano keys echoing in the room.
All punctuated by her staccato, high-pitched mewling. A song with only the words Yes and Rio and Please that she knows too well.
“You look so fuckin’ good with my fingers inside you." He growls, sinking a third in to her and pulsing faster. His thumb swiping over her clit so softly she bucks off the bench and has to grip the edge of it to stop from falling.
She can feel herself clenching around him, her body tensing and jerking in his grip as he crooks his fingers in a way that makes her yell, and she comes suddenly and hard as he continues to slowly work her through it, waves of pleasure rippling throughout her body as she screws her eyes shut, smacking his hand away eventually where she feels too sensitive.
She’s catching her breath, blissed out, resting her limp body back against Rio, when the fallboard suddenly slides back down to cover the keys. The rim hitting her ankle and trapping her foot with a thwack that stings for a second before she pulls her foot free - letting it thud back down to the floor - and starts laughing.
“Ow.” She hiccups through her giddiness, feeling Rio’s body shake behind her, both his arms secured around her middle.
“Worth every penny.” He chuckles gruffly in to her hair.
* * * * *
The following evening, Beth is dragging laundry out of the dryer when she hears the muffled sounds of the piano being sporadically played. Jane’s clear, commanding voice and then Rio’s much deeper one, the bouncy lilt he uses with the kids.
Jane had screamed with delight when Dean dropped her and Emma off, Danny and Kenny having gone to sleepovers, and covered Beth and Rio in exuberant thank yous, her little body unable to contain her joy, and immediately dragged Beth to the piano to sit and play with her.
She’d sat with her for a while, watching Jane play, her tiny, confident hands on the keys while Beth aided with the pedals, and then Jane had asked her to play a song.
She played a piano version of Long Ago & Far Away, humming the words as Jane leaned in to her side.
Rio had strolled back in to the room then, Emma slung over his shoulder like an old rug after she’d begged him to braid her hair. Two perfect plaits, fastened with fuzzy pink bobbles, swinging where she’d gurgled with laughter hanging upside down, until Rio had carefully lowered her to the ground, right way up, smoothing out the static flyaways on top of her head before she ambled back towards the den.
He’d stayed and watched. A peaceful, wide smile lighting up his face as she’d fumbled through Somewhere Over The Rainbow that she blames for distracting her.
He’d gone back to watching a cartoon with Emma in the den, tapping away on his phone, but now it sounds like he’d been dragged to the piano by Jane, and she can’t help her curiosity as she drops the clothes in her hands and wanders towards the sounds.
As she gets closer she recognises the tune being attempted.
Heart and Soul.
Beth leans against the wall just outside the door so they can’t see her, but their voices carry.
“How am I ‘sposed to know which key I start on though?” she hears Rio question.
“You see the two black keys? Think of the white key between them as a dog in a kennel and that’s the D key. Then you move to C and that’s where you start.” Jane pronounces proudly, patiently.
“Aight, cool. Think I got it. Why don’t you do the tricky part and I’ll back you up, yeah?”
She hears Jane begin to play and can’t help peeking around the corner when Rio’s part comes in.
The image steals her breath away, a lump in her throat as she looks at their backs. Jane’s little shoulder pressed in to Rio’s. Her in a denim pinafore dress layered over a pink floral top and Rio in his black t-shirt. The bar tattoos on the back of his arm lined up next to Jane’s flowery sleeve.
Jarring and perfect.
And the flashes of Beth sitting like this with her father swell in her heart.
When they make it through a section, Rio lifts his left hand up like he’s going for a high-five, but they do the complicated little handshake unique to Jane that ends with a fist bump. “Good job, sweetheart. Had no idea you were so good.”
“I’m okay.” Jane sighs cheerfully.
“Whatchu mean? Your momma was just sayin’ how amazing you are.”
“Mom only thinks that cause she loves me so much.” she states, assured. And Beth’s about to barge round the corner to tell her how special she is when Rio beats her to it.
“You know she can love you and you can be a ‘lil superstar, right? Cause you are. Forreal.”
“I guess. But when you love someone you think everything they do is amazingggggg. But I know I’m not, it’s just the love.”
She hears Rio hum, unsure, can see the back of his head nod along as he listens, trying to think of something to say.
“You know you were smiling all big when my mom was playing?” Jane continues, “Even when she played the wrong keys?”
“Oh I was, was I?”
“See. It’s the same thing.”
The doorbell cuts through the quiet and jolts Beth, clearing her throat as she goes to answer it.
She pays for the pizza and turns to find Jane and Emma bouncing near her.
“Okay, okay. Go sit at the table, I’ll bring it over.” She directs them and they run off in the direction of the dining room.
Rio follows her to the kitchen island where she places the pizza box down, leaning her hip in to the counter as she stops to watch him grab the plates.
When he comes to her side, setting the plates in a stack next to her, he juts an eyebrow, noticing her silently ogling him, her doe-eyes wide.
“Somethin’ on your mind?” he drawls, turning so he faces her, chest to chest.
“I heard you playing.”
His grin peels across his face, all teeth, stupidly impressed with himself. “Heart and Soul, baby.”
Beth leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him, slower and deeper than he expected, sliding her tongue over his bottom lip in a way that keeps his eyes closed for a few seconds when she pulls back, his mouth chasing hers.
“What was that for?” he whispers, eyes opening softly, his lashes fluttering as he continues to peer down at her lips.
“What? You were being all sweet and shit, what do you want from me?” Beth chirps, mimicking him, a flirty smile tugging the corners of her mouth.
Rio makes a grumbly, appreciative sound in his throat before he reaches up to grab her jaw in his hand tightly, harsh enough for her lips to pop open in a pouty O shape, dragging her face close to his, heat spiking in her gut at the sudden action.
He surveys her for a second, the way her plump lips are squished in the crook of his hand.
“Later.” He purrs, biting at her mouth quickly, sucking on her bottom lip with a groan before he lets her go, picking up the plates with a cocky smirk on his face, moving to the dining room, leaving Beth breathless.
* * * * *
Mick swings by the next weekend, just after breakfast, coming inside to drop a duffel by the door and to jump in the car with Rio on the way to one of the warehouses in the city today.
She’d offered him a coffee to-go but he politely declined, waiting with Beth in the hallway as Rio slipped on one of his dark navy beanies.
She goes to open the front door when she sees Rio approaching, but Mick lingers, stops to jab a stubby, gloved finger toward the piano in the room next to them.
“How’s it workin’ out?” he rasps, his slow voice genuinely curious as he turns his face back to her.
Rio must have had him drag it in here. Poor guy.
“Oh, yeah – it’s great. I’m not very good though to be honest.” She waves a hand out, self-deprecating.
“Yeah? That’s not what you said.” He nods towards Rio who shoves his hands in his jacket pockets a little awkwardly. Something flashing for just a second in his eyes as he looks at Mick, the air between them crackling like when your friend tries to embarrass you - but you can’t punch them just yet.
Beth tilts her head as she looks at Rio, trying to catch his eyes but he purposefully looks away, pouting as he chews the inside of his mouth.
“What did you say?” she pushes sweetly, finding his sudden avoidance irritatingly charming.
“Nothin’.” he shrugs with faux confusion, shifting his gaze to hers, nodding resolute like he’s clueless.
“Said you were dope.” Mick cuts in, “Said you sing, too. Won’t shut up about it actu -”
“Aight, man, let’s go.” Rio speaks over him, and Mick just shakes his head as he moves to the door. A quick Seeya, Boss with a conspiratorial smirk aimed her way as he passes.
“I’ll swing by at like 9 tonight. Cool?” Rio runs a hand down her bicep and squeezes, before leaning down to kiss her quickly, and again, slower, before he tugs on the ends of her messy hair and slips out the door.
She eyes the piano, pictures the expression on his face as he watches her play, and gets hit with a wave of desire to show him how much she truly appreciates it.
It gets to sometime after 8pm, alone in the house, when Beth digs out the black lace lingerie set that Rio likes so much he stops himself from tearing off her, the long black silk robe with fluted lattice sleeves that hang down over her palms, the same see-through trim lining the bottom edge, swishing against her calves.
The tiny panties don’t really have a back, just four black straps running over her ass like it’s a present, meeting at a little black bow at the top. The bra is also - barely a bra. Just delicate cups made of sheer Chantilly lace with single straps that run over the swell of her breasts like a cage, emphasising them in a way that makes Rio’s eyes bulge.
She slips the lingerie on and grabs the body lotion Ruby had gifted to her, massaging the buttery cream in to her thighs, her hips, down her arms, a delicious hint of passion fruit in the scent that Rio said he could taste.
She debates which perfume she wants to use when she eyes his cologne and decides to spritz herself with that instead, pumping it in to the air in front of her a few times and walking through it, fluffing her hair in to the mist as it dissipates. He had gotten a weird narcissistic kick out of her smelling like him last week after all.
She slips the robe on and fastens the sash, hoping to do a dramatic reveal of the lingerie beneath at the opportune moment.
It’s nearly 9 when she makes her way to the piano and attempts to haul herself on top of it, but her hands are still a little sticky from the lotion and it’s higher than she realised. Scrambling, huffing, grateful nobody can see her flailing limbs, she eventually finds herself sitting on the lid of the piano.
She tries to position herself alluringly, pulling the robe out from under her ass as she shuffles to the edge, facing the wall where Rio will appear around the corner.
Her ears prick up when she hears his key in the front door and she goes to swing her left leg over her right, crossing them, leaning in to the heel of her right hand.
But the action makes the slippery skin of her upper thigh slide along the smooth piano lid and she’s falling off the edge before she can stop herself.
She squeaks when she hits the floor, a dull ache in her knee and a sting in her palms, cursing herself for being too generous with the lotion when she sees Rio’s converse in the corner of her eye.
“Yo, what you doin’ down there, darlin’?” he hurries towards her, genuine concern in the pinch of his brow as he gently reaches for her arms to help her up.
“Being ungraceful.” She grumbles, coming up to stand in front of him, his big hands pulling her tousled hair away from her face.
“You alright?” he asks, and she can see he’s trying not to laugh now when she meets his eyes.
She nods, sighing, when his gaze drops down to the robe. Still securely tied, hiding the fun beneath, but definitely not her regular evening attire.
His fingers go to the sash, eyes glowing as he seems to put the pieces together. “What were you climbing the piano for, huh?”
She huffs, fluttering her bangs. Eyes taking him in properly. He looks so good. Soft. Warm. His dark beanie snug on his head making the sharp lines of his face even more pronounced. The freckle on his cheekbone that looks like a heart in the right light. The soft scruff growing back in. The jacket with the little white buttonhole detail that sits on his shoulders so nicely.
She wants him right now but this wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
“Can we try that again?” she pleads, laying her hands on his chest and pushing him backwards.
He furrows his brow at her, puzzled and not budging. “Go back out and come back in again.” She commands.
“Elizabeth -”
“I’m serious. Go.” he shakes his head but begins to turn. “Oh. Wait. Help me up first.” She gestures to her body and then knocks the lid of the piano.
He growls as he comes to stand in front of her again, but he pauses for an extended moment where he just looks down at her with what feels like amused devotion.
He dips to grab the back of her thighs and lifts her up like it’s nothing, dropping her ass on to the lid with a squeeze as he waits for the next instruction.
“Thank you. Now go back to the door and – I don't know – count to ten.” Shooing him away.
He looks down at the knot in her sash like he wants to bite it and sighs dramatically as he turns back, but she can hear him laughing warmly as he turns the corner.
She decides to just go full out and undoes the robe, slipping it all the way down her right shoulder so it spills to the crook of her elbow, the lingerie underneath on full display. Quickly re-arranges her boobs in the lace of the bra, puffs her hair up and leans down on to her forearm, crossing her left leg over her right – carefully this time - angling her body in a way that makes her feel like she’s posing in a calendar.
Wanna see you spread out on top of it, wearing nothin’ but that black lace thing I like.
She hears Rio clear his throat with exaggerated drama, signalling that he’s coming back in to the room so she better be ready, and she rolls her eyes.
He’s taking his beanie off as he turns the corner, his hand suspended in the air a moment as his jaw goes slack and any hint of amusement at the situation melts away and he just looks like he feels impossibly lucky.
He drops his beanie to the floor, pupils blown, eyes pinned to the fragile lace and straps covering her heaving chest as he slowly approaches, shrugging out of his jacket. Making a primal rumbling sound in his chest that she’s not entirely sure he’s aware of, touching every atom in her body with it.
He comes to stand in front of her, eyes dragging all over her as she slowly sits up, rolling her shoulders, arching her back, pushing her chest out as she slips out of the silk robe, making a little strained whimpering sound that she knows fucks him up.
His fingers are twitching restlessly at his side, eyes so heavy-lidded now she can barely see them, his breaths coming hot and fast.
Beth lifts a finger to trace the taut lace of the bra, gently rubbing over her nipple, watching him watch her hand.
“You wanna touch?” she whispers, and his eyes jump to hers, burning, black, promising.
“Oh, please.” He hums cockily, husky, his hands rising to stroke up the top of her thighs, pressing himself in to the space between her legs, her knees opening for him.
His hands run everywhere, reverent and restrained, his mouth on her, beard scratching her skin just the way she likes, sucking at her neck, her lips, hands in her hair, crushing her to him.
“I do somethin’ to deserve this?” he breathes between hungry kisses.
She just laughs softly, lets him adore her, lets him guide her back down on to the piano so she’s lying flat, gazing up at him between her legs, his hand running from her sternum to the edge of her panties.
He tugs them down her legs slowly, carefully, dropping them on the floor, bending down to bite at the blurry Chinese symbol on her hip, licking at the pink mark his teeth make.
He locks eyes with her as he unzips his jeans, pulling his cock free and lining up with her throbbing center, sinking in to her painfully slow, both moaning as he bottoms out.
“Rio, ughhh – Rio –” she cries, gasping, eyes rolling back in her head.
Sayin’ my name all breathless and shit.
“There it is.” He sighs, deeply satisfied from within, her eyes snapping open to watch him watching her. Realises he’s echoing her words, teasing her. Savoring the image of her exactly the way he’d described. The way he’d wanted.
She starts to smile but he pulls out and thrusts back in so deeply that her face contorts, choking on air instead.
And it’s gentle and hard and frenzied and tender - it’s everything they are. Her shoulder blades rubbing against the lid of the piano with every delicious rock of her body, his beautiful face, utterly captivated by every soft inch of her, every sound, the agonising cadence of their bodies, a harmony filling the house.
And when she hears him make a high, strained noise – guttural, almost holy, something like worship - a long, drawn out moan that touches the top of his husky register, untamed in naked pleasure as he spills inside her, she thinks that might be her favourite sound of them all.