I feel her stiffen against me, so I tighten my fingers around her neck.
“I-I’m probably awful now. I haven’t practiced in years.”
I lean in, running my tongue along her jaw. “You don’t lose talent like yours,” I tell her.
I run my other hand along the split in her dress, touching her thigh. Just as the dancers are extending their legs up near their damn heads.
“I bet you can still do that,” I say, guiding her head back to look at the stage.
Her heart thrashes against my palm, but her breathing is calm.
“If you’re a good girl for me, I’ll reward you.”
She blows out a deep breath, keeping her eyes fixed on the stage.
I smile as she drags her foot up the side of her leg, stopping at her knee, and then extends it. Gracefully. Beautifully. Into the air. Her fingers are gripping the balcony rail with one hand, and her other is in the air. Just like they are on stage.
I run my hands along her smooth, outstretched leg. “Perfect, lastochka.”
“It’s called Développé,” she tells me.
I hold her ankle, keeping her in place, while my other hand dips in the slit of her dress and along her panties.
“Is this all for me, baby?” I mutter in her ear.
“Y-yes, sir. Always for you.”
“Good girl,” I tell her, pushing her panties to the side, circling her clit.
“Does this feel good, hmm?” I ask.
She nods, and I press a kiss against her throat, sliding two fingers inside of her. “Would you like to enjoy the ballet while I enjoy you, lastochka?”
Her breath hitches, and I grin, her walls clamping around my fingers.
“I want to grovel on my knees properly. Let me, please.”
She turns her head to look at me, a naughty grin dancing on her lips. “Get on your knees, Drago. Show me how deeply sorry you are,” she teases.
A low growl erupts from my chest as I pick up the pace of my fingers.
“The fact that your pretty pussy is dripping all over my fingers tells me that you have forgiven me. But, because I like to keep you deeply satisfied, I’ll gladly clean you up with my tongue, baby.”
Her cheeks flush a deep red.
“Hold on to the railings,” I tell her, as I lower her leg and step in front of her, my back to the railings.
I sink down onto the ground and hoist her leg over my shoulder. She helps me by pushing up the dress further.
“You got a dress with a slit down the front on purpose, didn’t you?” she whispers.
I bite my lip and wink. “Maybe.”
With my hand on her ass to keep her firmly in place, I push her panties to the side, and I get to work, devouring her. Earning forgiveness. Showing her how she deserves to be worshipped. How, even in a place she believed would be a trigger for her, that actually, she can enjoy herself.
Lily is free to be whoever she wants to be.
I just want to be here to love her. To see her happy. And if that means having my tongue buried inside her at the ballet, then so be it.
