Playing With Her Heart (31 page)

He places one hand on
my belly, and pushes me down on the bed, then shakes his head
appreciatively. “You on my bed. This I have wanted since I met
you.”

“Really? Did you
think about this when I first sang for you?” I scoot back and he
climbs up, as if he’s prowling his way toward me. I love the way he
talks to me during sex, how he’s always telling me what he wants to
do, and I can’t resist going fishing for more of his sexy, dirty
mouth. Because it’s yet another thing I’d never expect from him.
And yet another thing I crave. Those filthy words from this classy
man.

“No, back when I saw
you in
Les Mis
, I imagined you completely naked in my bed and
coming for me. Let’s make that happen.”

He tugs off my panties,
and we’re still in this same uneven zone where I’m undressed and
he’s only halfway there, but hell if I care, as he presses his
hands on the inside of my thighs, spreads my legs wide open, and
brings his lips to where I’m aching for him. One kiss, one lick,
and I am inside out with pleasure. I arch my back, lifting my hips to
his face, desperate, terribly desperate for more of him as he
caresses me with his talented tongue. His lips are so soft and his
tongue draws the most delirious lines across me so that my vision
goes blurry with the exquisite pleasure surging through my body. I
moan and pant and grab hard at his hair, and I can hear him groaning
too as he tastes me, licks me, tortures me with that tongue that I
want to feel all over me.

His hands grip my ass,
and he tugs me even closer to his mouth, like he can’t get enough
of me, and it’s so intimate and intense the way he devours me. I
don’t need fingers this time, because with one more flick of his
tongue against my throbbing center I am his, as the waves of pleasure
ripple through me. I call out his name many times over, and I swear I
dig my nails into his skull as I come hard and fast.

He layers kisses on my
belly and my hips, and my legs are still trembling from the
aftershocks. He travels up my body with his mouth, leaving a trail of
kisses between my breasts and the hollow of my throat. He has the
most satisfied look on his face. “You’re like a drug to me. I’m
not sure I’ll ever be able to get enough of my fix. I’m going to
need more and more hits and even so I’ll only grow more addicted to
you.”

“Good. I’ll be your
enabler. I want you to be hooked,” I say, because I love these
words, I love the reassurance.

Then he stands, and I
push up on my elbows, watching as he unbuttons his jeans. My mouth is
literally watering because I want him so badly. I want to see him in
all his naked glory, and I watch him strip as if I have a front row
seat to the best show in the house as he takes off his jeans. He’s
wearing nothing but boxer briefs, and I crawl forward to the edge of
the bed, kneel, and push them down.

His erection springs
free, thick and hard and totally fucking beautiful. Heat surges
through me and I run my teeth over my lips as I roam my eyes over
him. Strong legs, smooth stomach, all those hard lines, leading to
the V that draws me back down to what I want most. I take his cock in
my hands, thrilled to be touching him without any limits now. He
groans and grabs my hand, gripping me tighter around him, moving my
palm up and down on his hard length.

“God, it feels so
good to have you touching me,” he says in a hot, hungry voice
because he’s held out for so long. His breathing shallows and he
closes his eyes as he rocks into my hand. I don’t want to stop
touching him, but the need to have him inside of me is so intense.

“I want you,” I
whisper as I let go of him in my hands so I can have him between my
legs. He inches me back on the bed, lowering himself onto me. I feel
him hard against my thigh, and then his hand is on the back of my
leg, opening me up, making room as he settles between my legs.

Holding his cock in one
hand, he teases me with the head, rubbing himself against me, and I’m
going to lose my mind if he doesn’t slide inside of me now.

“Please. I want you
now,” I pant.

“Oh, you’re going
to have me. You’re going to have all of me.”

And then he sinks into
me. I inhale sharply as he fills me, and he stills. “Does it hurt?”
he asks gently.

I nod against him, my
hands around his strong, solid shoulders. “I’m just not used to
this,” I admit.

“I know. I’ll be
gentle.”

“You don’t like to
be gentle.”

“I do with you. I’ll
be gentle, or I’ll be rough. I’ll do it however you want or
need.”

“I just need you.”

Then I breathe again,
and he brings a hand down to my leg, hitching up my thigh and holding
me in place like that, opening me up as he pulls back, then strokes
into me again. Slow, gentle, gliding strokes. Filling me up,
stretching me, and when he’s so far inside me he stops for a beat,
brings his hand to my face and cups my chin, so I’m looking at him,
so I have to look deep into his beautiful blue eyes because that’s
what he wants. He wants to see all of me. To connect with me. To know
me.

In all my fantasies,
all my imaginary nights of pretending, I never really knew what I was
missing. I never understood how out-of-sync my make believe life was
from this real life, this possibility, from this phenomenally real
moment with this man who makes me feel everything, who wants me to
feel loved, and cherished, and desired.

“I know what you need
right now,” he says, and the moment is no longer suspended as he
buries himself in me again, and my back bows, inviting him to take me
further, to guide my body to wherever he wants it, because he alone
has the keys.

“What do I need right
now?”

“Wrap your legs
around my back as tight as you can. I want to go deeper into you, and
I’m going to kiss your neck the way you want me to.
Hard
.”

I do as he says,
opening myself even further for him as he thrusts into me. I hook my
ankles around him, surrendering to him in that position, to however
he wants to fuck me, to make love to me, to bring me to the far edge
of pleasure and back again. He bends his head to my neck, kissing me
there as he drives inside me again and again, and the feeling of
completeness is so astonishing, that I’m both here and I’m lost
in the waves of sensation that flood through my veins, as pleasure
spins wildly inside me.

“I have wanted you
for so long. For so fucking long, and now I have you, and you are
completely and absolutely mine,” he says with a low growl that
somehow makes me hotter, and I didn’t think it was possible to feel
any more desire than I do right now. But then he thrusts into me
again as he reaches his hands into my hair, fisting a handful and
tugging, like he’s always wanted to.

I arch into him,
letting him know I want more.

He kisses me hard and
hungry, his teeth nearly piercing the flesh on my neck, and I cry out
from the sensation. It’s pleasure and just a touch of pain, but
it’s a good pain. It’s a pain that surges through me, and reminds
me that I’m alive, that I’m here, that I’m living every moment.
Maybe that’s why he’s the one to bring me back to me. Because he
never wanted a part of me. He wouldn’t take the half of me I was
willing to give. He wanted all of me, only all of me, and now he has
it.

“You have me. You
have all of me. You’re the only one I want,” I say as I thread my
hands into his soft hair. I know he knows this. I know he feels it.
But I have to voice it. I have to say all these things out loud that
I feel for him, because I don’t want to keep anything hidden
anymore. I want the man I love to know that he’s the only one.

His body slides against
mine, damp with perspiration, and I grab his shoulders, bringing him
deeper, wanting all of him.

“Harder,” I
whisper.

He groans loudly in
answer then pumps faster, rougher, and I wish there were a mirror so
I could watch us as he moves inside of me, my legs spread and clasped
around him, his beautiful body surging into me, touching me deeper
than I’ve ever felt. The world around us dissolves, and this is all
there is, this closeness, this far edge of ecstasy. We are lost in
each other, and there’s nowhere we’d rather be.

“You feel so good. So
warm and tight around me. I love how hot you are for me. And I
fucking love how there’s no one else but you and me, and I want to
feel you coming while I’m inside you,” he says, and his words
come out in a hot ragged rush, his breaths erratic, and the sounds
thrill me. The sounds I’ve longed to hear. His grunts and thrusts
that tell me he’s getting close. That he’s nearing the same place
he’s brought me to so many times over.

“I want to know what
you sound like. I want to know what you look like when you come,” I
tell him, as I wrap my legs tighter around his ass, so divinely
sculpted, and he drives into me, sending me near the edge once again.

He breathes out, hard.
“I need you to come again. I need to feel you coming on me. I need
it now.”

I look at him, his eyes
open and wild, his lips parted, his breath hard and fast and I’m
there in an instant, I’m shattering beneath him once again,
writhing and bucking my hips and pulling him deeper with an orgasm
that tears through me, and it’s all the more intense, because he’s
coming apart with me.

At last.

Davis

We sleep well, but not
much. I wake up in the middle of the night, needing more of her and I
pull her against me, spooning her. She sighs sleepily at first, then
wakes up, and brings my hand to her breasts and wriggles her backside
against me.

“Let’s go again,”
she says, and I am only too happy to oblige as I slide into her, her
hot flesh surrounding me. We make love like that, slow and unhurried,
and I have plenty of access to her breasts and her belly as she hooks
her leg around my thigh, giving me more room to sink into her, in the
dark of the night, all of Manhattan sleeping and we’re the only
ones awake. She moves languidly, wrapping her arm around my neck as I
rock into her, and soon her voice is rising, and she’s moaning and
gasping and crying out, and I will never tire of making her come.

“Your turn,” she
says seductively as she shifts onto her stomach and raises her ass.

“My favorite
position. How did you know?” I say, then grab her hips and plunge
inside of her, enjoying the view—the curve of her ass, the length
of her back, her body underneath me, as we finish yet another round.

In the morning I make a
quick breakfast of eggs and toast, and then we have to get ready
because there are only four days left before opening night.

“I brought a change
of clothes. I should probably go shower and get ready,” she says.

I look at her as if
that’s the craziest idea in the world. “No. I don’t think that
will happen.”

She tosses me a curious
look. “I’m not allowed to shower here?”

“You’re not allowed
to shower without me.”

I take her into the
beige tiled bathroom, and there’s room for two. As the steam fills
the shower, I rinse the shampoo out of my hair. Then, I feel
something absolutely fantastic as Jill’s hands run down my chest,
my legs, and then she’s kneeling, taking me in her mouth, her
beautiful lips surrounding me. I look down, and groan because there
is no hotter sight in the entire world than this. I watch her lips
move, and I want to finish this. But I want her too, so I pull her
off, grab her hips and lift her up and against the shower wall, then
bring her down hard on me and move inside her fast, furiously, as she
grapples with my hair, my shoulders, my back until she comes apart,
and I do the same.

Then, we go to work.

Davis

“This is awful. It’s
all terribly awful. It’s the worst mess I’ve ever seen.”

Alexis stomps her
high-heeled foot dramatically down on the floorboards, decked out in
Ava’s costume for our final dress rehearsal.

“It’s not,” I
assure her. “It’s great. It will all be great,” I tell her,
doing everything I can to keep my cool as she throws her patented
dress rehearsal fit.

“No, it’ll be a
disaster,” she whines, pursing her lips into a pout as if she’s
going to force herself to cry. “It’ll close in eight days.”

“Don’t say that.
Don’t ever say that,” I say, as if I’m talking to a petulant
child, but one I need to encourage because that’s the only way to
end this sort of tantrum, since she’s now flung herself
dramatically onto the steps that lead up to her dressing room. “It’s
going to be fantastic. Now, come on and let’s do the final number.”

Her head hangs between
her legs in the most woeful pose. I offer her a hand. “You can do
this, Alexis.”

She shakes her head and
heaves her shoulders. “I need a minute alone.”

She retreats up the
stairs to her private dressing room, slams the door and stalls the
rehearsal for a full ten minutes as she’s locked in there, the rest
of the cast waiting for her to deign to return. Shannon gives me a
wide-eyed look and taps her watch as if to say
tick tock
.

I sigh heavily, then
march up the steps and knock on the door.

“Alexis, we need to
finish up. I know you can do this. I have absolute faith in you.”

She opens the door and
peeks out, and in a meek voice she says, “You do?”

“Yes, you’re Alexis
fucking Carbone, for God’s sake. Everyone loves you. Now let’s
finish the rehearsal.” I offer her a hand, but instead she flings
her arms around me, clasping me tight.

“Thank you. Thank you
for believing in me, Davis.”

She lets go and flashes
me a smile, and as she does I can smell whiskey on her breath. I roll
my eyes when she looks away. She heads down the steps holding the
railing, descending as if she’s some southern belle at a debutante
ball, waving to the cast on stage waiting for her. Then the heel of
her shoe hooks into the metal on one of the steps, and in an instant
her leg is bent, and she’s grabbing at the railing, but missing as
she tumbles in a wild mess down the stairs.