His knee ground into my pussy, and his breath was scorching down my skin, making my nipples prickle with arousal.
I let him carefully undo each lace until, with a sigh of relief, the bodice popped open and my breasts sprung free, naked, full, with the strawberry pink nipples taut and tight.
“Oh, god, Birdie, you’re torturing me.”
Forrest captured my mouth with his, tongue teasing at the seam of my lips.
“Baby girl, please. I’m fucking dying away from you. I can’t stand it.”
I gave him five more seconds, his low groans echoing in the small room, his cock digging urgently into my belly.
“Nope. Going home to work on my lines for tomorrow. I haven’t forgotten or forgiven.”
Chapter fifteen
Birdie
It was one week until the curtain opened for Phantom of the Bloody Opera, and I realized things were about to get a little fucked-up when I saw Pierre-Phillipe hanging from the chandelier and singing about curses.
Of course, he clearly didn’t want everyone to know it was him since he was wearing a ridiculous mask, but his voice was pretty obvious.
“This production is doomed.Doomed! Run for your lives before the Phantom chokes the life out of you!”
Pierre might be good for an afternoon sex romp, but unfortunately he was an idiot if he thought no one was going to recognize either his voice or how the tight costume he was wearing showed every recognizable bulge on his body.
Unfortunately, Francois was voluble, passionate, and highly superstitious.
Mon Dieu!” he cried, leaping dramatically away from where Pierre’s dramatic pose was framing his testicles rather obscenely in his tight pants as he swung above the rest of us practicing on stage.
“Beware! Doom and curses upon anyone involved in this production!”
“Get out of here!” Hieronymus cried, but Pierre was clearly enjoying himself, swinging on the chandelier like an acrobat and bending his magnificent body into complicated patterns.
“Security!” Paige called, while Percy rushed over to try and grab Pierre’s legs, but the younger man was much more agile, and he flipped easily out of his reach, then landed on the stage and made a rush for Francois.
“I am the true Phantom!” Pierre roared, seizing Francois around the throat. “You have usurped my rightful role.”
“Mercy, mercy,” Francois begged.
“Pierre, we know it’s you!” I snapped, and then Forrest was there, ripping the other two men apart and sending Francois tumbling head over heels.
Pierre made a dash in one direction, but Forrest kicked one of the rolling tables over so fast it blocked his exit, and Pierre-Phillipe was forced to twist around, but he wasn’t fast enough. Forrest pounced with a snarl, gripping Pierre by the mask and ripping it off.
“You’ll throw your back out,” Lulabel called sweetly as Forrest threw the first punch.
It was pandemonium, the cast and crew screaming as the chandelier swung wildly above us, spitting chunks of glass and crystal and diamonds everywhere as Forrest drove Pierre into a gravestone.
Someone was playing the organ very loudly and dramatically in the background, reaching a crescendo so stupendous I felt it in my chest.
Even though Forrest was fully forty years older than Pierre, he was still beating the shit out of the younger man.
“Who sent you?” he demanded, grunting as Pierre managed to get a blow in on his ribs.
“Who fucking put you up to this?”
“The goddamn organ is broken!” Hieronymus bawled, and Percy and I raced over to see that someone had been fucking with it too. Percy rubbed his hands together briskly and dove in, managing finally to cut the power code and silence the organ.
Meanwhile Forrest was slamming Pierre’s head into the floor as Lulabel criticized his form.
