Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
ZOE
Iwear a short black dress for the drive to the theater.
For some perverse reason, I want C to reach over and put his hand on my bare knee.
He hasn’t touched me since we parted ways in the game room.
At first I was relieved, but now I’m not.
Despite the danger that comes with getting close to him, I crave his touch.
I think I put my hand on his chest earlier to provoke a physical response.
I didn’t get it. His hand didn’t come up to cover mine. He didn’t lean in. Or reach out.
I glance at his hand where it rests on the gearshift. Those strong fingers were inside me last night. Deep inside my core, I throb from the memory.
“What’s on your mind, beautiful?”
How wrong is it that my heart races from him calling me beautiful? From the sound of his voice and the way the word rolls off his tongue? Nothing was ever so sexy. No word ever reached inside me and made me burn the way that one from him does.
I turn my head to look at him. He glances at me and then back at the road.
I search for something to say, something other than the truth. “I’m thinking about the show.”
“Do you get nervous before a performance?”
“Yes,” I say and that is the truth. “It’s the good kind of nervous.”
“How’s that?” he asks.
I love everything about the way he asks that question, especially the intent way he looks at me.
Performing is my life. Or at least I hope to make it my life, so I’m happy anytime someone seems interested in my dancing.
This time means more because Connor McCann’s not known for doing the boyfriend thing.
He and his closest friends hook up with women frequently, and apparently in some kinky ways that leave me breathlessly curious.
But I don’t get the sense that asking about a girl’s hopes and dreams plays into those scenarios often, or at all.
The way he asks me questions makes me feel special; it feels like I matter to him and since he’s so powerful, so coveted, and normally so aloof, that’s a rush.
I drag my mind back to his question about why I think nervousness can be a good thing.
“It heightens my energy and attention. I feel like I’m better on stage when I’m nervous before I step out.”
“Nervous anticipation makes sex better for some girls, too,” he says, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a sexy smile.
I’m instantly transported to memories of being over his lap, of the spanking, of the way my heart raced, and of how fast and hard I came when he fucked me afterward. My face flushes, and I squeeze my knees together.
He pulls into a parking spot right near the backstage door. “Stay there until I open your door,” he says. C gets out and checks around the corner of the building, then returns. He opens my door and steps back.
I slide out, shoving my skirt down when my feet are on the pavement. I reach for my bag, but his hand is faster.
“I’ve got this for you,” he says, shutting the SUV’s door and motioning for me to head into the theater.
His hand’s on the small of my back as we walk down the hall. I know I should walk faster to put some distance between us so people don’t get the idea that we’re together, but the warmth of his hand and the way it sends a thrill through me won’t let me.
“I’m in here,” I say, nodding to the door of the big group dressing room.
“Nah,” he says, catching my arm. “Come with me.”
“Hey, Mr. McCann,” someone says and once that happens, everyone that we pass follows suit in greeting him and pressing against the wall so he can pass without adjusting his path.
He stops at a door that’s been locked since we started rehearsals.
He unlocks it. The single dressing room is clearly meant for a star.
The vanity table is cream lacquer, there’s a small chandelier overhead, and rose and taupe silk pillows rest on a chocolate couch.
A taupe rug covers a section of the marble floor.
A giant spray of pink roses with white baby’s breath rests on the dressing table in a stout vase.
They’re the flowers he promised me, I realize, and I can’t help but walk over to smell them.
They’re beautiful, elegant, and as luxe as the room.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. This is the star’s dressing room. You’re the star. You should’ve been in here all along.”
I can’t suppress my smile. “Thank you.”
He nods and sets the duffle next to the dressing table.
“I need to get my costume and to let—”
“No. Sit down. They’ll come to you.”
My heart flutters, but I try to contain my excitement over the fact that he thought my performance warrants this. I remind myself that everyone worked hard to make the show a success, including and especially Rachel. This isn’t all about me.
“Connor, I don’t want anyone to think I asked for this dressing room on the second day of the show.”
His brow cocks. “Zoe, it’s all right to act like the star when you are the star. But if it makes you feel better, I doubt anyone will think this was your idea. Wherever I am, people assume I’m calling the shots. Which I am.”
“But even that… people could get the wrong idea about us.”
“You mean Frank Palermo could? What’s going on there? Were you involved with him?”
“Involved?” I say, confused.
“Did you go to bed with him?”
I suck in a breath. “No! God, no!”
“Good.”
“But you’re in a war with him. And I visit his house. That could be awkward. Or worse.”
“Then you should stop going to his house. Rachel can come to your apartment. No reason you need to hang out in the Palermo mansion, is there?”
“Am I addicted to the sauna and swimming pool, do you mean?” I say with a bitter little laugh, thinking about how Rachel and I were encouraged to use and be photographed by the pool the summer before.
“Are you addicted to anything there?”
I shake my head. “Sometimes it was fairly sketchy to open my eyes and find a big camera lens pointed at us. I will miss swimming though. Maybe C Crue can buy the community center and reopen the pool. Since you’re in the revitalization business,” I say, swirling a finger to indicate the dressing room and theater.
“Maybe,” he says noncommittally.
I have no idea why I said that. I’m not going to be Connor McCann’s five-minute girlfriend and then be forced to desert my years-long relationships for the sake of a quick fling.
I’m not even sure Frank would let me do that without some really horrible scene.
And what if he decided I didn’t need to see Rachel anymore?
Unthinkable. The best thing to do is walk the line until I can get out of this situation.
“I’ll be back,” Connor says before he walks out of the dressing room.
I turn toward the mirror. Concentrate on the show. Get ready for the show.
CONNOR
I send the backstage people in to Zoe. They transform her back into a beautiful bird.
For this performance, I sit at the far left of the front row. The music isn’t as intense and fantastic during this show, but Zoe’s just as amazing as she was the first time. After her bows, I walk backstage and wave away the guy who helped her get in costume.
I enter the dressing room with one thing on my mind. I want her.
She’s flushed and moving with barely restrained energy.
“What did you think?” she asks.
“I think you’re incredible.”
The smile she flashes is brighter than the stage lights.
“Did you notice anything different this time?”
“The music wasn’t as good, and the troll king doesn’t have a mole anymore.”
She exhales like I’ve let the wind out of her sails. “You noticed the mole last night?”
I nod.
“Do you think everyone did?”
“You mean do I think Frank did? Yeah, I think he did.”
She stops and leans forward over the dressing table. Her hands shake slightly before she rests them on it, looking like she might wilt like she did onstage when she was wounded.
“Hey,” I say, moving forward. I grab her and pull her into my arms. “If you need protection, I’m offering.”
She looks into my eyes, her expression soft and vulnerable. It makes me want a lot of things, and not all of them involve my cock.
“That’s probably not a good idea,” she finally says.
“If you say so,” I say, turning her so I can unzip the costume. The curve of her bare spine emerges, making me want to run my tongue over it. I press my thumb against the hollow just above her ass.
She tries to step forward. “C—”
I stop her progress and then push the costume down, revealing a tan thong and her firm, very round ass. There are no marks from last night’s spanking, which I guess is good since she had to perform. I can’t help but wonder how she’d respond to a whipping that leaves some marks.
I put my hand on her belly and slide it lower, dipping my fingers into her panties.
She grabs my wrist. “Connor, the door’s not locked,” she says in a whisper.
I let her go, walk to the door, and throw the latch.
“Take the pins out of your hair.”
Her back’s still to me as she obeys. The wild curls puff up when she runs a hand through them.
I cup her left ass cheek and tip my mouth to lick the side of her neck. “I should bend you over the end of the couch and spank your ass for being so fuckable.”
She shudders, and I know a part of her wants me to do it. Instead I slap the cheek I was holding and take a step back. Zoe looks over her shoulder, her big brown eyes wide, pupils dilated.
“Strip off those panties,” I command in a rough voice.
When she obeys, my cock jerks in my pants, ready to be turned loose. I shed my suit jacket over the vanity’s chair then sit on the couch. I toss a couple of pillows on the floor between my Italian leather-clad feet.
“On your knees, little girl.”
She blinks, then turns. She’s naked, and her breasts sway when she takes a deep breath. I love her brown nipples. The tips are arrowheads at the moment. Her hands grip my thighs, steadying her descent.
“Take out my cock and suck it.”
“C,” she says, trembling slightly. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.”
“We’re fine. No one will knock on that door while it’s closed.” I cup her chin and draw her closer to my groin. “Now be a good girl, and do as you’re told.”
“Just this once,” she whispers. “Because of how great you’ve made tonight—the flowers and dressing room and everything.”
I don’t care what she tells herself. This is not going to be the last time, and my treating her like my beautiful submissive has nothing to do with payment for lavishing her with the star treatment.
She undoes my belt and unzips my trousers. When she lowers the front of the boxer briefs, my cock springs free. I lean back and put my arms behind my head, watching as she takes me in her mouth. Her lips close around my girth, and I’m encased in her soft wet mouth. It’s heaven.
I close my eyes and savor the moment. A gorgeous naked dancer on the floor of her dressing room, servicing me while the crowds file out, talking about her other masterful performance.
“Deeper,” I groan, my lids rising enough so I can watch her breasts sway.
Her nips are tight beads. Being commanded to suck my cock turns her on. For the moment, she’s all mine and everything I want.
She swirls her tongue around my shaft, then draws back to suck the plump head.
“Yeah,” I murmur, gripping the back of her head, pushing her back down.
I glide into her, toward the back of her throat, until she grabs my knees. I let her take control of the pace again. Her hand grips me at the base, pumping up and down in a steady rhythm while her head rises and falls. I’m in her hot little mouth, as she hollows her cheeks and works me like a pro.
Fuck, it feels good. I lean back and groan. My balls are ready to explode.
I pull her head back with a firm grip on her hair. “Get up here on my lap.”
She’s breathing hard as she straddles me.
She slides down on my cock like a stripper on a pole.
The soft plump lips of her pussy cradle my aching cock.
I cup her breast and bring it to my mouth, using my teeth to tug on her left nipple.
She drags in a breath. I bite down with a little more force, and she moans.
“Yeah,” I whisper after I release it. “You’ll be my good girl, won’t you, if I put tight little clamps on these pretty nips?” I suck on her nipple and take more of her breast into my mouth, suckling hard.
She moans and circles her hips, moisture from her pussy coating the base of my cock.
Her fingers grip me and she rises, ready to put me inside her. It’s exactly what I need but I also want to train her to behave the way I want. I cup her pussy, blocking my cock’s entry into her body.
She lets out a tortured whimper.
“Ask permission,” I say.
She stares at me.
“Should I spank your ass until you’re ready to obey?”
She husks out a breath. “C—?”
I slap her breast. The sting startles her and causes her to move back an inch and then to lower herself onto my thighs. I let go of her pussy, but raise my hand to my mouth and lick my fingers, loving the tangy taste of her.
“What did I tell you to call me?” I ask.
“Bastard,” she husks.
I slap her ass and give her a hard look, but I’m not angry. I like her feisty.
She leans forward, her breasts against my chest, rubbing the fabric of my shirt.
“Please? Sir,” she adds.
“Yeah, ride my cock, beautiful.”
She doesn’t hesitate. With my hand gripping her ass hard, she rises up and then lowers herself onto my cock. As it pierces to her core, she tosses her head back and moans.
I smile because I can tell that it feels as good to her as it does to me. I start to guide her forward so she can rub her clit against me, but she’s already positioning herself. Then she grinds and bobs in small pulses.
“That’s it. Ride me. Make yourself come.”
She pants and then bites her lip, closing her eyes.
I lift her and lower her fast, my cock jerking up to hit her cervix.
“Oh, God,” she groans.
“Like that?”
“Yes. More. Please, more.” She buries her face in the side of my neck as we grind away. Her slick, lithe body is as stunning as it was on stage, but right now she’s all mine.
I growl as I get close. I tighten my grip on her globes and pull her forward, spreading those ass cheeks. She cries out, and her hot tunnel spasms around me. I thrust in short, hard jerks until I’m spilling cum into her throbbing pussy.
“So good,” she pants. “So, so good.”
I twist a hand in her hair and pull her head back. I find her mouth with mine and kiss her hard, my tongue fully penetrating her mouth. She clings to me. Her body gets it, even if her mind doesn’t yet. She’s mine to fuck whenever and however I want.
And she’s going to stay mine.