Page 16

FIFTEEN

CONNECTION

ROYCE

I didn’t.

Before Nicolette, I knew shit about anything musical theater-related. Like, I remember hearing there was one about humans playing cats that was famous before I was born. Bonnie and Clyde had a short-lived show about them that I only heard about because, when I was a teen, I was fucking obsessed with Clyde Barrow. Other than that, I wasn’t interested.

But Nicolette is, and I made it my mission to learn.

“No,” I admit, taking one of the seats. I wait for her to lower herself into the other. She’s wearing a skintight, black cocktail dress that had me seconds away from calling the whole night off just so I could have the pleasure of peeling it off of her, and she moves carefully as she turns to look at me. I run my thumb along the edge of her jaw. “But you like this stuff. And if you like it? I’ll look into it. I’ll give it a try.”

“Royce…”

I knew I outdid myself.

It’s not that I picked a random musical that just so happened to be playing locally, either. It’s that I took the time to research the show to make tonight as special as possible. I drew the line at putting a half mask over my face, though the beaming smile she shot my way when I stopped and bought a rose from a vendor in the lobby makes me wonder if I should have.

The private box earns me more brownie points. It’s recessed on the side of the theater, with a curtain behind us to give us privacy. It doesn’t have the best view of the stage, but I figure the trade-off is worth it. Despite being in a theater with a thousand other people, in this box, it can be just the two of us.

With my free hand, I take hers in mine, twining my fingers with hers. “I want to like the things you like.”

I see it when she swallows roughly, a hitch in her voice as she asks, “What about the things you like?”

“Me? I like being a Sinner. I like gambling,” I tell her honestly, “and I like you .”

She sucks in a breath. Since the lights go off the moment after I tell her that, followed by a round of applause from the audience, I figure that’s what caused her reaction.

I’ve never been so fucking happy to be wrong.

Leaning over the seat, she pushes past my outstretched hand, laying hers on my cheek. She gives me a quick kiss, telling me more with actions than she can with any words as the show begins.

I have never been to one of these things before, but even I know there’s a certain etiquette in regards to how to act.

Fuck that.

I shift in my seat, collaring her throat, keeping her where she is as she begins to back away. That one kiss just reminds me how much I hunger for her. She started the kiss, and as the thunderous chords to the overture echo around us, I take that kiss, turn it around on her, and devour her in the darkness.

She’s panting softly when I finally break it. “Royce,” she murmurs softly, “the show’s started.”

I know. But whether I was planning this or not when I got the idea to book one of these private boxes, it doesn’t matter. As though I’ve got Link whispering in my ear, I’m reminded of a talk we had a few years ago over a couple of shots of whiskey.

I couldn’t understand why he’d willingly give up all women when he couldn’t have Ava. He couldn’t understand why I’d hop from bed to bed, getting nothing out of it except a quick nut and a sense of self-loathing when I abandoned another conquest.

There was, however, one thing we agreed upon: the best sex happened when there was a connection.

Right now, as a huge ass fake elephant comes rolling onto the stage, behind a shrill redhead singing far more opera-y than I was hoping, I think I finally understand what my boss was getting at all those years ago.

And, suddenly, I crave it.

Letting go of Nicolette’s neck, I pull on her hand. I’m still holding it, and I squeeze her fingers, wordlessly gesturing for her to come closer.

She leans over the armrest, a curious look in her eyes. “What’s up?”

No. I need her closer. I pat my lap.

Her eyes widen. She points at herself, then at my thigh.

I nod.

Nicolette chuckles, her eyes go even wider at the sound, and she slaps her hand over her mouth. In the shadows of the private box, I can just about make out the amusement dancing in her eyes as she shakes her head.

I raise my eyebrows, pressing my palms together.

Like me, Nicolette leans more toward being agnostic. We had the discussion once while watching Fiddler on the Roof . While I was raised Catholic before leaving the church as an adult, Nic’s mother bounced from religion to religion, depending on her husband du jour. She says she was baptized, was pretty sure she had a Confirmation—which makes me think she was Catholic once, too—but she hesitates about whether she believes there’s a God or not. Though the gesture might look like I’m praying, it’s more like I’m pleading.

She leans in. “You really want me to fuck you right now? The show just began.”

Exactly. We have at least an hour before intermission—but that’s not necessarily what I do want.

“No fucking,” I tell her. Not yet, at least. “I just want you to sit on my lap.” For now. “If you’re worried anyone will see, don’t. They’re watching the stage.”

“We should be watching the stage, too,” she whispers back.

I release her hand, stroking the column of her neck with my fingertips. “You’ll have a better view from my lap.”

Nicolette throws her head back, preening at my gentle touch even as she mutters softly, “You don’t know how to quit, do you?”

I don’t—and it’s about time she figures that out.

She had her chance to refuse. Pulling my hand back, smirking when her head snaps down again, mourning the loss of my caress, I rise up from my seat. Just like I thought, no one is paying any attention to us as I take Nicolette’s fingers, tugging on them until she’s standing up on her heels.

Another tug and, oops, I’m sitting down and she’s sprawled across my lap.

I give her a moment to adjust her position, satisfied when she doesn’t even try to get up and scurry back to her own seat. Instead, giving in to my desires, she leans back, resting her head against the shoulder of my suit jacket.

I leave her that way for the next few songs. If she notices the erection beneath her pert ass, she doesn’t pay it any attention, and I’m so used to being hard around her that I can handle the temptation of her curves for a little while—until the Phantom starts singing a love song to the girl on stage and Nicolette sighs.

That does it for me.

I hike up her skirt. So engrossed in the scene, she doesn’t seem to notice that I’m pulling on both sides of her dress, lifting it slowly until it’s bunched up around her belly button.

I worried when I saw she wasn’t wearing any hose earlier. It’s March, and though it seems like we’ve said goodbye to inconvenient snowstorms, it’s still fucking cold outside. Now I’m grateful for it since the only thing coming between me and her pussy is her thin panties.

I hook my finger beneath the fabric, shuddering out a breath when I find that they’re soaked. Her panties are barely an inch wide where it counts, and it’s easy to move them past her pussy lip, baring her to me.

Nicolette can’t pretend not notice that, though she gives it a good try. But when I slide my finger through her slick heat, gathering the moisture, bumping her clit with my pointer finger before dipping low, fingering her gently?

She squeezes my thigh as she moves just enough to take my entire finger inside of her.

Oh, baby… if she’s feeling empty right now, I have something that will fill her up more completely than my finger.

Placing my palm beneath her ass cheek, I lift her up so that I can reach my zipper. I wait until the song finishes and the audience claps to tug it down, the applause drowning out the tell-tale sound. It’s only a matter of maneuvering her just so to get my cock out, and that’s what I do.

Pulling my finger out of Nic, I instantly try to replace it with my aching erection. The head of my cock immediately finds her entrance. As wet as she is, it slips right past, but the nudging is enough to have Nicolette turn and look over her shoulder at me.

I take advantage of her distraction to grip my shaft, fumbling in the dark to angle it right before— yes —I’m lodged inside of her.

She sits up straight, arching her back the same time as her hands slap out to her sides, gripping the arm rests of my seat.

“Royce,” Nicolette hisses just as the actress on stage sees some creepy doll wearing a wedding dress. She drops, the Phantom catches her, then carries her to a bed while still crooning about the music of the night. “I thought you just wanted me to sit on your lap.”

“That’s what I said. That’s what you’re doing. I just want you to sit down and—” I shift my hips, feeding her another inch of my cock—“be comfortable.”

“Comfortable? With your dick inside of me? In public ?”

“No one can see you, remember? And think of it as just keeping me warm and cozy while the show goes on. That’s all.”

“Well… if that’s all …” She takes a breath and, exhaling it softly, lowers herself down so that she’s fully seated on me.

I have to grit my teeth to keep from groaning out loud.

Instead, I whisper, the heat of my breath—or maybe the way I’m stretching her out—causing her to shiver, her pussy contracting around the intrusion of my cock.

“Yes… that’s it, baby. Fuck … do you know how good this feels?”

She backs up against me, forcing my cock to move as she does. “I might have an idea.”

I hiss at the pleasure rushing through me.

My body wants to move with her, but I stay motionless. That felt fucking amazing, too, but I don’t want her to think I was slowly tricking her into fucking me. When I want sex, she’ll know it. When I want to sit here, this gorgeous creature on my lap, holding my stiff cock inside of her as if it was made for her perfect pussy alone… she’ll know that, too.

I nuzzle her neck as my hands go to her waist. Digging my thumbs past the bunched up material of her dress, I put enough pressure there to keep her from wiggling again. “Don’t move,” I breathe, pressing an open-mouth kiss to her skin. “Just sit right here, baby, and enjoy the show.”

I know I definitely will.

Sex is great. Stealing Nic away from some lowlife at the Playground who thinks his two dollar tip is enough to keep me from my girl, then enjoying it when she drops to her knees, sucking me off eagerly on one of her “breaks” is more than a bastard like me deserves. Waking up with her blonde hair spilled across my chest, her hand splayed across the devil on my side, and her legs entangled with mine? I love it.

But having her trust me enough to lean back, her fingers moving from the arm rests to settle on top of my thighs as I spread her wide open, my cock nestled inside of her heat while a love triangle plays out on the stage?

This… this is what I’ve been waiting for—and there isn’t a single thing I won’t do to keep it.

As the first act draws to a close, I start to thrust a little. She’s comfortable now, but Nicolette isn’t Ava Monroe; exhibitionism isn’t her thing. She’ll sit on my lap in the dark, but once the light goes back on? She’ll scatter, leaving my dick wet and my balls ready to explode.

Good thing I have a solution for that problem. And when my slow thrusts pick up speed, Nicolette immediately matching my rhythm as she realizes that I am fucking her right now, I’m so close to coming that I have to edge myself before I blow my load, leaving her wanting.

If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a selfish lover. So, while I guide Nicolette to ride me in the theater seat, I reach around her, using two fingers to rub her clit until she begins mewling softly.

She’ll never forgive herself if someone hears her being fucked while the show’s going on. That’s why, right as the chandelier comes crashing down, I grip Nicolette by the chin, tugging her mouth down to mine. I swallow her cries as she begins to come around my cock, and just as the lights flicker on for the intermission break, I buck up inside of her, filling her completely as she goes boneless against my suit.

Once we’re both finished, I press a kiss to the top of her hair as I run my sticky fingers along the side of her thigh.

Now that ’s a connection worth writing home about.