All the Pretty Poses (19 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE- Reese

I have to make myself sit through the first
hour of carefully orchestrated performances. I’m not interested in
seeing, hearing or participating in anything that doesn’t involve
Kennedy.

It’s my own fault that she goes on last. Part
of that is because I had Karesh add her at the last minute. I know
she wants to feel like an employee and I know she loves to dance.
But I hate, and I mean hate with a passion that rivals my passion
for her, the thought of anyone else having their eyes on her as she
dances. It sets my teeth on edge just thinking of how uncomfortable
those four minutes will be. But it’s for her. If I can just keep
that in mind…

When it’s finally time for her spot, I find
that I’m both excited and testy as hell. I glance left and right to
see who’s watching. Everyone is. Of course.

I muffle my growl of displeasure.

The lights go dark and I turn my attention
back to the stage. When I hear the first notes of the music, I
can’t help but smile. She said her choice for tonight would really
please me. She’s already right.

When I was younger, my brothers and I used to
watch some of my dad’s old movies when he wasn’t home, which was
often. It was one of those mischievous little things that bond a
bunch of young boys for life.

One of my favorites to watch was a tale about
a hard-working girl who was a welder by day and a dancer by night.
She always wanted to be a ballerina and she met a guy who made that
happen for her. My father used to say she was white trash and that
nothing like that would ever happen in real life, but I admired her
determination, not to mention her hot body and the way she danced.
I’m pretty sure that girl gave me at least a dozen of my earliest
hard-ons.

I once told Kennedy about it, during that
summer so long ago. She said she’d seen the movie and that she
loved to watch the girl dance, too. It makes me wonder how much
that show influenced both of our lives. I grew up to own dance
clubs. Kennedy grew up to dance in one of them. And now, here we
are as the girl who has practically nothing and the rich man who
can make her dreams come true. Could it be life imitating art?

If we ever had a song, this might be it. And
she’s playing it for me.

With the first few beats, Kennedy slips
quietly out from behind the curtain. Dramatically, she drags her
bare toes with each step she takes, her head cast down as she
walks. Her slim legs are bare but for the material bunched around
her calves. She’s wearing a short, skin-tight black skirt and a
gray sweatshirt with the neck cut out. It hangs off one shoulder,
revealing one narrow, black bra strap. If the music hadn’t told me
what she was thinking, the sweatshirt would’ve.

She makes her way to the center of the stage
where she dips and sways and twirls like a graceful ballerina. It’s
easy to see that her talent runs much further than just sexy
dancing, although every move she makes is sexy just because she’s
Kennedy. I don’t think she can help it.

Mesmerized, I watch her dance. As the song
plays, her moves become more titillating, her eyes swing my way
more often. When she spreads her legs into a deep split, her lips
part on what looks like a silent moan, like she’s remembering me
between them. When she bends backward, perfectly displaying her
round tits, she closes her eyes like she’s feeling me touch her.
Everything she does makes my cock that much harder.

It’s when she makes her way to the lone chair
that I somehow overlooked that I realize what’s coming. The lights
dim into one spotlight that’s focused on her in a single bright
beam.

I watch her hand rise to loosen her hair,
letting it tumble free in a thick, shiny wave as she arches her
back away from the chair. She raises her hand again, this time
reaching above her, toward a cord that I can just now see.

I stand to my feet, knowing what comes next.
In slow motion, I see her tug. Water falls from out of nowhere,
crashing down over her chest and stomach and splashing onto the
floor.

She arches her back further and I can hear
her gasp clearly, even over the music. Through the wet material of
her gray sweatshirt, I can see her nipples harden. As much as I
want to taste them, at the moment, all I can think about is how
much I hate that anyone else is seeing this, that anyone else is
seeing
her.

My anger rises fast and hot, boiling over
before the song even finishes.

“Out!” I shout, loud enough to be heard over
the music. There is a pause, during which I turn to scan the room
before I repeat, more harshly, “Everybody
out
.”

The room clears within a few seconds, the
music of some other song left playing in the background. Kennedy is
sitting up in her chair, watching me, water dripping from the ends
of her hair. When I make my way up onto the stage, she’s not
moving, not breathing.

Neither am I.

CHAPTER THIRTY- Kennedy

I see him leap onto the stage with one
graceful jump. I see his eyes roving my body like he’s deciding
what part to attack first. And I see the patience that he’s shown
me thus far as it dwindles to nothing. Nothing but hunger. Desire.
Passion in its rawest, hottest form.

When he reaches me, I know the instant he
sets his hands on me that this is going to be a rocket ride to the
moon, fast and furious and mind-blowing. And I’m ready for it.

It’s time.

His hands go first to my hair, winding into
the wet strands and holding my face still for him. His mouth
plunders mine. Our tongues tangle, our lips devour.

I feel his hands skate urgently down my arms
to curl in the hem of my shirt. He rips it up over my head and
flings it to the side. With a growl, he pulls me to him again,
bending his head to suck my lower lip into his mouth.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he
says, his voice dry and hoarse. “Tell me I can do anything I want
to you. Right here. Right now.”

His words are a spark to dry grass and my
insides go up in flames, like a desert wildfire. Heat licks down my
spine and burns in the space between my legs.

“Yes. Yes to everything.”

That’s all he needed to hear. I unchained
him, I freed the animal inside, but this time I’m ready for it.

With a savage rip, Reese tears open the back
of my bra and pulls it roughly down my arms to bare my breasts to
him. When he bends me back over his arm and clamps his lips down
over one nipple, I squeeze my thighs together to keep myself from
coming apart on the spot.

I thread my fingers into his hair, fisting
them in my own frenetic need. When he straightens me, I immediately
reach for the front of his shirt, yanking open the buttons in one
try.

Reese’s hard chest, with its dusting of dark
hair, is gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat that makes my mouth
water to taste it. So I do. I lean forward and drag my tongue up
the dent between his pecs, detouring to take one flat, masculine
nipple into my mouth.

He cups my head and hisses when I bite down.
“Damn you,” he spits in what almost seems like anger. “I didn’t
want it to be this way, but you’re driving me crazy.”

My eyes lock on his as I shake free of his
grasp. In this moment, I realize that I
want
to drive him
crazy. I
want
him to feel as desperate, as wanton as I
feel.

Dropping to my knees in front of him. My
fingers work nimbly at the button and zipper of his pants. I part
them, pushing them half way down his thighs.

He’s not wearing any underwear and my breath
sticks in my throat when I come face to face with his enormous
cock. I’d forgotten how big it is. That hasn’t changed. But one
thing has. There, going through the smooth, round head of his
penis, is a gold-stud barbell.

I’m fascinated as I look at it. I raise my
hand to stroke it with one fingertip. He jerks in response.

“Do you like that?” he asks softly. “It’s
called a Prince Albert piercing.” He exhales, the end of his breath
rising in a hiss. “I can’t wait to show you what it feels like when
I rub you from the inside with it. I want you screaming my name
when you come.” Reese’s voice is like rough velvet rasping along my
skin, touching me in all the right places.

I lean forward to swirl my tongue around the
studs. His answering groan and the way his fingers curl into my
hair send moisture pouring into my panties.

When I close my lips around the head, Reese
twitches, reaching to pull me to my feet and up into his arms. His
lips crush mine in a kiss that I fear might set me on fire if it
weren’t for the puddle of water I’m standing in.

Reese kicks off his pants the rest of the way
and swings my legs off the floor to lay me down on the wet stage.
The cool water at my back has my nipples puckering into painfully
tight nubs, which Reese attacks with his lips and his tongue and
his teeth. He lifts his chest off me and I feel his hands pulling
at my skirt, shoving it and my panties down my legs. He even drags
the warmers from my calves.

As soon as I’m practically bare beneath him,
his mouth is on the move. He kisses and caresses a hot path down my
stomach to the triangle between my legs. My whole world seems
centered on that one spot and how much I need to feel his touch
there. He nuzzles me with his face, but the touch is light and
brief, giving me no relief.

Just before I give in and beg him to put an
end to my misery, Reese rolls me onto my stomach. The cold water
hits every surface of my front and makes me gasp. The skin of my
backside is still cool from lying on the wet stage, making the
first touch of Reese’s hot mouth almost painful. His tongue at the
base of my spine sends shivers through me and the feel of his
scorching palms on the curves of my hips steals my breath.

Reese spreads his fingers around my hipbones,
tugging them up off the floor, arching my lower body toward him. He
drags his lips alongside the crease of my butt before nudging my
legs apart. There is a pause where my heart completely stops inside
my chest before I feel his lips at my entrance.

I’m helpless against the onslaught of his
torture. Reese holds me spread before him, his lips and tongue
working white-hot magic between my folds and over my clit as his
thumb delves just into my entrance, only to back out again. All I
can do is lie prone beneath him, rocking against his mouth as he
brings me to the edge.

Just as my orgasm breaks, as though he could
taste it hit, Reese rolls me over onto my back, throws my legs over
his shoulders and buries his face against me, licking and sucking
and fingering me through the waves of my release.

Before my body can completely recover, Reese
rises and sits back on his haunches then slides between my legs. I
look up at him, his eyes like aqua coals burning from the center of
his ravenous face, and I know there is more to come. Much more.

“That piercing that you were so interested
in,” he begins gruffly, “I want you to feel it rub you on the
inside you while you look into my face. I want to see the flash of
gold slide in and out of you. I want to see your come dripping off
of it.”

I feel my muscles contract at his words,
grasping at him where he sits at my entrance. My mind is fuzzy with
passion, but one thing shines through, like the bright light of
panic breaking through early-morning fog.

“I don’t have a condom,” I admit
breathlessly.

“You don’t need one. I’ve had a
vasectomy.”

I know I’ll feel differently about that
later, but right now, I only feel relief. And a surge of desire at
his next words. “God, how glad I am for that. I want to feel every
inch of you, every drop. And I want you to feel every inch of me,
stretching you tight, shooting come deep inside you.”

“Oh, god,” I moan, tightening my legs around
Reese.

I watch him as he reaches down and spreads my
folds, his fingers massaging my clit as he teases my entrance with
his thick head. I glance down and see the light glinting off the
golden stud and I feel more heat gush into my core.

“Now, Reese,” I plead.

“I need to go slow. I don’t want to hurt
you,” he says, his voice strained as he guides his tip into me,
still toying with my most sensitive part.

My mouth falls open as I watch the gold stud
disappear into me. He eases it ever so slightly in and out in
short, choppy strokes. I can feel the gold balls moving against me,
the kind of friction that makes my belly tighten and brings me one
step closer to absolute annihilation. I rock my hips toward Reese,
trying to take in more of him, but I meet resistance. He’s just so
big.

“Easy. After you adjust to me, I’ll give you
what you want. I’ll give it to you until you beg me to stop.”

I’m panting. I’m dizzy with what he’s doing
to me, with the bright spotlight shining into my eyes, with the
voracious look on Reese’s face.

I lift myself up onto my elbows, certain that
I can’t take one more second. Reese grunts and I see his jaw
clench. “Kennedy,” he warns, stilling himself with just a couple of
inches inside me.

“Reese, I can’t wait. Please.”

I know I look desperate. I know I sound
desperate. I can hear it in my voice, the needs of my body leeching
out into my tone. But I feel like the world might explode around me
if Reese doesn’t fill me. Completely fill me.

I can hear his heavy breathing. I can see the
sheen of perspiration on his forehead where he’s holding back. His
eyes search mine. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I reply without hesitation.

After only a short pause, Reese leans
forward, pulls my left leg over his shoulder and thrusts hard into
me. For a moment, I feel faint the pleasure is so intense. His
overwhelming presence inside me is pure ecstasy and with the
friction of the studs as he pulls out and thrusts back in, even
deeper if that’s possible, I tumble right back over the edge.