Double Dare (27 page)

Nathan had had enough of this. He'd got some serious thinking to do. He headed for the bar, ordering them in a couple of beers.

"What's up?" She peered at him when he handed her a drink.

He smiled. She was genuinely concerned for him. He'd never had that luxury before. What had he done to deserve this? Her caring streak spoilt him in ways he hadn't been spoilt before. "I'm okay. I've got to watch the support people, make sure they're doing their jobs. The band has had some interest from major labels and there will be scouts in the crowd."

"Okay, I understand." She squeezed his hand, snuggling against his arm. "It's fun to be here when they are on the verge of making it."

He finished his beer and nodded at the growing crowd on the floor. "Let's get closer." The place was filling quickly, the crowd growing dense.

She followed his lead and they moved into the crowd, closing on the stage, just as the lights lowered and the band came out. He nestled her in front of him so she was safe from the moshpit, and stroked her shoulders.

The music blasted out, angst-ridden, energy-fuelled stuff, the singer a longhaired, scrawny man with green eyes. He paced the stage and growled out to the audience, his eyes looking directly into the crowd with a challenging stare.

The crowd was moving in unison almost immediately, a good sign. Suzanne spooned in against his hips as she rocked to the sounds. He glanced down whenever the lights passed over her face. She was following the singer's dramatic path back and forth across the stage. He was pacing like a caged animal. Nathan couldn't help identifying with him and gave a wry smile. At the back of his mind, he vowed to make this odd situation right. He wanted to be with Suzanne, like this, but without the burden of guilt that was currently weighing heavy on him.

A whip of guitar sound licked out and locked them into the rhythm. They moved with it, her hips riding from side to side against his. It felt hot. It felt right, too. The music crashed and ground around them, the guitarists arched over in sheer concentration as they spun out the dramatic pace of the tracks. The crowd was rapt with the experience, a mass, at one with the sounds. There was a feeling of climactic release, of escape, in the building of the current song. The singer came to the front of the stage and his voice became solemn and low. As he let the final chords of the song free from his throat, he scoured the audience with his eyes, as if he could read their very souls.

As the next number began to take form, Nathan glanced over at the mixing desk, which was set on one side of the stage, and noticed that the soundman looked stressed. He hadn't noticed too many glitches—nothing out of the ordinary—but he'd promised he'd watch over it. Zac had wanted to do the best they could for the band.

Leaning down, he spoke against her ear. "I've got to go check on the sound, do you want to stay here?"

She nodded up at him, pulling him down for sudden kiss as she did so.

He made his way backstage and onto the sound station, glancing over the shoulder of the man at the controls. The guy gave a thumbs-up, but Nathan watched him through another track to be sure.

When he was satisfied, he straightened up and looked out at the audience, following the path of the moving spotlight that passed over them. His gaze found Suzanne immediately and she looked at him across the heaving crowd. She smiled in recognition, some message that didn't need to be voiced passing between them. They were becoming a couple he realized in that moment.

He stepped away from the stage and into the corridor that ran behind it, switched on his phone and scrolled to Zac's number. The voice at the other end told him the phone was switched off. He tried not to get irritated. He was already annoyed with himself because he'd lost his sense of humor about this. He knew Zac was busy in Paris, he just had to make a gesture towards sorting this or he'd go mad.

"Zac, it's Nathan. I need to talk to you. I need some advice. I know you're not going to be back in London until late on Sunday, but can we speak Monday, if not before? Cheers."

He pushed the phone into his pocket and moved back to the edge of the stage. Craning his neck, he tried to catch sight of Suzanne. He couldn't see her. Uncertainty gripped him, then discomfort. What if she'd gone?

He felt a tug on his t-shirt.

Turning around he found her standing behind him, and his sense of humor was back, and he was laughing at himself this time.

"Hey. I missed you." She smiled up at him. "Am I allowed up here?"

"Yes, of course." He gathered her against him, and found them a place to watch from the side of the stage.

"This feels like they're right in our home playing for us," she shouted over her shoulder, laughing.

The floor was vibrating beneath their feet. He snuck his hands down to rest beneath her breasts, enjoying the sexy feeling of her movement in his arms.

After a few minutes she turned around in his arms, pressed against him, looking up at him with mischief, she gestured him down so she could speak in his ear. "It's good here. I can feel the music pounding right through me."

"Right through you?"

She nodded, slow, her lips slightly parted, heat visible in her cheeks. "My pussy is on fire."

He wanted to feel that too. He led her from view and drew her along the dividing wall behind the spot were the band were playing, where the wall itself thudded with the sound. He backed her against it.

"Oh yeah." Her head rolled and her eyes were almost closing, narrowed into slits.

He put his mouth over hers, wanting to eat her up. She gurgled with pleasure, kissing him hungrily, her body rubbing up and down against his.

His cock was rock hard.

She panted, she was crazy for it. "Oh Nathan, I think I'm going to come, right here."

"Must bring you to gigs more often," he said, chuckling softly.

He groped inside her hipsters, desperate for the feeling of her moist hotspot. She was so soft and damp inside her panties, all peach-flesh and cream. He wanted to eat her. He pulled his hand out, licking her silky fluid from his fingers, enjoying the rich scent and taste of woman. He grinned at her when she groaned at his actions and shoved his hand in for more, fingers inside her folds, applying pressure to her hot little clit, pushing her on.

"The guitar," she whispered, hands flat against the wall, shaking her head, denying it.

She was going to come.

He reached his hand down—forcing her zipper all the way—and thrust his finger into the mouth of her delicious cunt, just as it tightened and spilled.

* * * *

Abby walked over to the dressing table and sat down. She could see Zac's reflection in the mirror. He seemed to like her forest green velvet dress. She'd brought it because she could scrunch it into a ball and it rolled over her body like a stocking, from bust to thigh, small shoulder straps covered in tight velvet buds the only decoration. She began to brush her hair and after a moment he got up and walked over to her.

Leaning over, he took the brush from her hand and began to brush her hair. He moved on it expertly, lifting it from underneath and drawing it up with the brush, his fingers tracing the texture of it in the wake of the brush.

She moved her head to follow the path he chose through the tresses, arching her neck.

"You look so good," he said quietly. She looked up and their eyes met in the mirror.

She took the brush from him and put it down, leaning back against him. He sank his hands down her throat and over her shoulders. She reached up against him.

He leaned over to kiss her mouth from above and his hands curved over her velvet-covered breasts. "You should wear velvet more often."

He kissed her forehead, her eyelids. His touch was so light, so gentle, yet so arresting. His mouth was the only thing stopping her from floating away. Then he reached across the dressing table and picked up the mottled box she'd noticed when she arrived. Opening it, he offered it to her. "It's for you."

She took the box and as she looked into it, he knelt down beside her to watch her face. The box held a heavy silver filigree chain that grew into a thicker setting at the front. It seemed to represent the irregular patterns of nature's growth, but on closer examination she saw that there were two serpents entwined at the center. Resting between their coiled bodies was a piece of amber, as if they were protecting it with their bodies or fighting over it. It was strange and beautiful and it rendered her speechless.

"It's Lalique," he said and lifted it from the box. "I saw it and it made me think of you. I thought you might like it." He unlatched the chain in readiness to put it on her.

"I do," she whispered. "But why?"

He smiled. "A beautiful thing deserves to be surrounded by more beauty." He stroked her face.

"I am surrounded by beauty." She looked into his eyes, feasting on him. She moved to kiss him and, as she did, his fingers slipped the necklace around her neck.

He turned her back to the mirror to examine the result. Abby let her fingers touch the necklace lightly. It was an exquisite thing and seemed to be the perfect partner for her dress.

"You have such good taste," she murmured as she looked at the chain in the mirror.

"I know." He stared at her meaningfully then chuckled low. "Come on. Let's go eat." He pulled her up from her seat, redirecting the mood of the moment.

Abby laughed as she fell into his arms.

He kissed her. "We'd better go now, or we might never get out of here." His tone was so darkly suggestive and her body trembled with resurgent arousal.

The restaurant he took her to was small, no more than a dozen tiny wooden tables squeezed into a space not much bigger than her office. Ancient candelabras hung precariously out from the walls. The light they gave off was increased by their reflection in the gilt-framed mirrors. A diminutive waiter ushered them in, waving his arm in front of himself, as if clearing a grand passage through the tiny place for them.

As they walked behind him Abby spied the noisy antics of the kitchens through a curtained entrance at the back. When they were seated the waiter carried over a blackboard that was easily the same height as himself, propped it on a chair in front of them and left them to study the enticing meals that were listed there.

Abby chuckled quietly when he left. "It's like a time warp."

Zac leaned in conspiratorially. "Yes...I thought you would enjoy it. What year do you think we are in?"

"1896?" she offered.

He nodded. "And you are Sarah Bernhardt, sitting there adorned by your Lalique jewels and your velvet dress."

Abby threw her head back and laughed, she felt gloriously happy. "And you? Who are you?" She leaned over as if to examine him closely. "You must be a Greek Prince who has come to entice me away from my true path."

He looked serious, drew her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. He said something in Greek. She wanted to know what he had said, but didn't want to ask. She felt as if they were circling each other again, as if he were holding something back. It made her want to offer herself, to beg him to use her.

He looked up from her hand but did not let it go. "What shall we eat?" he said, and gestured to the blackboard, but he was still looking at her.

Eventually she turned and looked at the board. She chose lobster, and he ordered a platter of gifts from the sea. The waiter brought a small carafe of wine that was constantly replenished. Abby felt mellow, content. It was as if the candlelight warmed through her body.

The lobster was delicious and was served with honey dipped prawns and a crazy salad that leapt from the plate in a tangle of colors. Zac constantly tempted her with offerings from his own plate. She watched him eat. His mouth was so strong, so firm, and decisive. When his teeth reached for a plump mussel she focused on them to the exclusion of all else around her. He grinned when he caught her watching then offered her an oyster. She shook her head but stared down at the thing as he squeezed lemon juice over it.

"This one reminds me of you," he whispered and took it to his mouth. His tongue came out and teased it from its resting place before devouring it.

"How am I ever to finish my food? Do you want me to starve?"

He shook his head and gave her an innocent look.

"Well, please stop it." He shrugged and returned to his plate. "There is a legend that says a young Athenian boy discovered that Oysters were good to eat," he said. He didn't look at her as he spoke, but concentrated on his food.