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“Quiet now, little flame. No talking.”
The couple finishes their dance, and I applaud along with the rest of the audience. Cyrus doesn’t clap. He lifts me onto his lap, still facing forward so I can see the stage.
I squirm and try to return to my seat. “Someone’s going to see.”
“Let them.”
A thrill of excitement races up my spine. It’s not likely that we’ll be spotted. The theatre is dark and the little half wall along the front of the balcony will hide us from most of the audience. It’s really only the balconies across from us that might see, and half of them are empty.
Both Cyrus’s hands explore my exposed back. My belly flutters, anticipating more now that he’s got me positioned where I can feel how much he wants me. I want to turn and face him, but I follow his instructions and keep my attention on the stage. For now, I’ll listen, because I really have always wanted to see a ballet.
Five men take the stage next, powerful legs propelling them through the air.
Just as I’d hoped, Cyrus’s touches become less innocent. His hands dip into my dress from behind and work their way to my breasts. He spends long torturous beats teasing my nipples to the rhythm of the music. Flicking them each time the dancers leap, squeezing each time they land, twisting for every spin.
I clutch my dress, feeling flushed and overheated.
“If I’d know men in tights turn you on so much, I would have added this to my list.”
“What would you have… added,” I ask, breathless.
“Better if I show you.”
One hand drags up between my breasts under the fabric and out the top to circle my throat. The other down between my legs. It’s clear he likes holding me this way, by my sex and my throat at the same time. He does it often. I’m surprised how much I like it too.
“Still no panties?” His voice is a low growl, almost angry. “Were you going to wear no panties for Damian?”
I shake my head. “Only you, Cyrus.” I wiggle, pushing against his touch, seeking more friction. “Only for you.”
“So you’re finally done pretending this is nothing?”
“Are you?”
“I never said this was nothing, Ra’ia. This is everything. I just couldn’t let myself have it until now.”
Deft fingers part my curls, sliding up and down my slick entrance. “Now watch.”
As if his words summoned her, the ballerina runs onto the stage and leaps so high it’s as if she’s suspended in air. I gasp, and Cyrus sinks two fingers deep inside me. Her partner catches her, spins, and twirls her to the floor, following her down.
Cyrus kisses my neck, sucking the tender skin. His fingers stroke small circles inside me. I buck my hips, trying to get more. He withdraws completely just as the males separate the lovers on the stage.
“Asshole,” I snap as he squeezes my thighs, teasing me with how close and still so far his fingers are to where I want them. “Are you seriously going to keep me on edge the whole fucking show?”
He brings his wet fingers all the way up through the top of my loose dress and places them against my lips. “Shh, my flame, you’re supposed to be quiet at the ballet. If you can’t, I’ll have to fill this naughty mouth with my cock.”
To prove his threat, he pushes three fingers into my mouth, pulling back just when I start to gag. He strokes my tongue, in and out, then brings his hand to his mouth and licks betweenhis fingers while holding my gaze.
“Fuck the show,” I hiss. “We can come to the ballet another time. I want you, Cyrus.”
He groans, the vibration shaking against my back. The music changes and new dancers take the stage. I don’t give a fuck what they’re doing. There’s only one thing I want to see right now, and it’s Cyrus’s gold covered cock.
I twist and sink to my knees between his legs, pushing them wide so I can get closer. His face is a picture of wonder that borders on pain.
“Finley.” A warning.
I smirk. “Maybe I’ll teaseyouthe entire show as payback for making me wait so long for this.”
Undoing his pants, I reach through the opening of his boxer briefs and pull out his cock. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. I’ve never thought that about a cock before, but this is a work of art. Every time I see it, I’m left breathless. The gold swirls climb from the base all the way to the tip and I study them in a way I didn’t have the luxury of before. I trace a finger along the lines. In the dark theater, the gold seems to glow. A trick of the light.
