I pull back slightly, cupping the side of her face when our foreheads connect. The warmth of our breaths mingle together as we fight to keep them in our lungs.
I need her to do something for me first.
Her eyes flutter closed when I push a kiss to her forehead and whisper, “Go on, Cherry. I dare you to paint these walls with your peace.”
She shivers, recognition coating her eyes of the time she danced for me at her studio back in Shadow Heads. Her hand curls around my wrist and she pushes her thumb into my pulse.
Cherry’s glacial blues flick up to mine, and they stay locked there when she turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss onto my palm.
She looks so peaceful.
So fucking content.
Finally.
Cherry drops her hand and places both behind her, sliding backward before pulling off her shoes like she did the first time at the studio.
She stands up, then shoves off her tights, leaving her only in black lace panties, and an instant warmth of possession courses its way through my veins.
This girl is fucking gorgeous.
This girl is all mine.
She kicks the tights into my face and chuckles when I jerk back, pulling them away. Then, she spins around and disappears through the black suede curtains at the back of the stage. I bring my hand over the front of my jeans and adjust my now aching cock.
I’m so fucked with her.Chase called it early on, and the motherfucker was so right.
A thunk is in front of me when she drops her red pointe shoes onto the stage floor and begins lacing them around her slim ankles and up the length of her toned calves. When she’s done, she slides onto all fours and fuckingcrawls to me, and I have to control everything in me not to pause what I asked of her and take her right fucking now.
Her eyes are hungry as her shoulders guide her toward me with intention. Mouth open, her tongue rests at the top of her teeth when she stops, extends her hand outward, and whispers, “Phone.”
I slide the zipper of my leather cut down and grab her phone, that I was keeping safe on the ride back from Devil’s Peak, out of my pocket before dropping it into the palm of her hand. After a few taps on the screen, “You” by Ari Abdul plays through the speakers and she slides herself backward on her hands and knees.
When the pre-chorus starts, and she is still on her knees, she spreads her legs, locking her arms behind her, where they rest at the base of her spine. Curling her fingers around her wrists, she rolls her head backward. Her body syncs with the movement before she snakes her chest into a forward roll, her cheek planting itself to the stage, her ass propped high in the air, and her arms still behind her back.
Fuck. Me. Dead.
Literally.
My blood is sizzling, the need for her so evident as every vein in my body pulses out of my skin.
Her hands part, caressing over her ass before they meet the ground, and the look in her eyes is fierce as she edges herself closer to me. When she gets within arm’s reach, I latch my hands around her pointe shoes, wrenching her forward, and she squeals.
It’s the most beautiful fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
I pull her close to the edge before spreading her legs and guiding each foot into a point on either side. And then my mouth is on the inside of her thigh. She drops her head backward, her skull slamming into the stage as she arches her spine, heaving deep breaths. “Harlen,” she pants as I move closer and closer to her center. She’s already rolling her hips, eager to feel me, to have me right where she needs me.
I stop, only inches away, biting into the skin of her thigh, and she quivers, her spine arching farther.
“P-p-p-please,” she stutters as she begs for me to put my mouth on her cunt and, fuck me, it’s hot as hell.
My fingers latch around her panties, and hers meet mine there, squeezing as I rip the thin lace, throwing it to the side.
I slide both of my hands up her thighs firmly, bending back over, and when my lips are only a breath away from herglistening pussy, I lick my lips, making sure to flick my tongue across her swollen bundle of nerves.
She shudders, violent and deep. “Ah, fuck.”
I grin, then I do it again and again, and before I know it, her hands are threading through my hair, tugging at the fistful of curls.
