“Doesn’t work with the dress,” I rasp.
The delicate crescendo of the music builds, and while the audience is turned toward the stage, I can’t help but feel wildly rebellious with Jax’s hand up my dress. Dipping, swirling, coating his fingertips. Twirling them around my clit. It’s almost too much to handle. I shove my fist into my mouth to stifle my moan.
Jax’s elongated canines glint with his smile before their sharp tips drag down my throat, nipping at its base. My breathy pants paint the air in thin smoke as I dig crescents into the chair’s arm cushions.
“Tell me to stop or spread that skirt and let me devour what’smine,” he growls.
My eyes dart frantically, the tiny, logical part of me screaming how crazy this is. We’re in a full theater. I’m a ballerina. The picture of poise. Decorum.
But even as those reminders echo like a chorus in my mind, my hands grip my skirt, slowly inching it up.
He slides down in one smooth motion until he’s kneeling before me, his prismatic gaze captivating my attention from the floor. It’s brutally carnal and full of gentle reverence. Behind him, a swan bourrées delicately across the stage as the music starts to intensify.
Jax’s hands trail over the pale-pink scar on the outside of my knee, one that has nearly faded completely. Pressing a long kiss there, he continues to pepper them up my hip and then across, toward my center. Each kiss is a promise of pleasure, vibrating through my whole body.
“Wider, Tempest.” His words are wind, brushing up the inside of my thighs. Instead of snapping them shut to the cold, I let them fall open, spread before him. Bared. Obedient.
“So perfect for your mate.”
I lean back, my shoulders digging into the cushions of the lush box seat. My eyes dart toward the few other boxes, buteveryone seems to be enraptured by the ballet in front of them. Like Ishouldbe.
But then Jax’s tongue laps at the apex of my inner thighs. There’s only him and the sound of Tchaikovsky reverberating through me, making me bolder than the black swan moving silkily across the stage.
I bite my lip, copper bursting on my tongue. He swipes it with a finger, the chill of it soothing my mouth, then he brings the crimson drop past his lips and sucks it down with a groan. The silvery shards of his gaze almost vanish completely, swallowed up by his pupils.
His fingers disappear again, two of them pushing into me. My pelvis shifts and my sequins snag the fabric of the seat. Not that I care.
“That was a bad idea.”
“Why?” I breathe, legs shaking.
“Because, Tempest, now that I’ve had a taste, all I want to do is bury myself deep inside you. Claim you in every way.”
Whatever that entails, I’m in.
I jolt at the next flick of his frosty tongue parting me further. The cold is unusual but not unwelcome and each stroke against my center eases me into its embrace. My head snaps down to look at those holographic eyes radiating a rainbow of colors from between my thighs. His tongue spears into me, twisting and devouring, before he replaces it with his fingers. The music crescendos with my quivering body until I’m fisting the seat’s arms, holding my upper body in place while my lower half, the part hidden from view, writhes against Jax.
Every limb pulls taut with a tension that threatens to leap out from me with nowhere to land. With a final curl of his fingers, I break apart, pulsing around him until he draws them out from me. For a moment, I mourn the emptiness, until his nose grazes my clit, tongue pushed inside me so far I wonder if that part ofhim is somehow magical too, deep and swirling within my body. It’s as if he has to taste every ounce of my pleasure. Anything less would be wasteful.
My body becomes sensitive to each nudge of his nose. I grip his hair to ease him away, his lips glistening with my release.
“Are you okay?” His brows furrow, like he’s worried he’s done something wrong.
“More than,” I sigh. “Just a bit…sensitive.”
“Sensitive how?”
“I’ve just never…” I lower my whisper as much as I can, grateful for the applause camouflaging my embarrassment. “Finished. With someone else, that is. Solstice with you was the first time.”
“I’ll be the first and only.” He smirks.
I almost huff out a laugh. From anyone else, I would have. Not with Jax, though. His expression is earnest. No cockiness flitting across his features. “And I plan to have you coming until the curtain closes. Unless you don’t want—”
“I want it,” I say hastily, biting my lip and debating if I should say more. His brows lift, a twinkle of mischief dancing in his eyes. His hands come up higher on my thighs, the slit of my skirt exposing me obscenely to the room.
“Yes,” I rasp when his fingertips swirl inside me, coaxing me to give into the pleasure cresting again.
He kisses me deeply, a mix of ice, magic, and my release lapping against my tongue. Lowering onto his heels, he nips at my inner thigh. “Let me savor you.”
