10. Chapter 10 #3
Odette moaned in response, and he plucked enough buttons open to slide his hand beneath her bodice to cup the swell of her breasts, still caught beneath the stitching and stays.
As she arched into his touch, she panted and squirmed in his lap.
Even with the high of his own orgasm still fresh inside him, all hunger satiated, he recognised her desperation, the urgency of her desire.
Cassius abandoned his attempts to bypass her bodice and instead set to work yanking up the swathes of her skirts until they bunched above her knees.
Her black, low-heeled boots swung above the floor, and he trailed a finger over her white silk stockings as he buried his hand beneath her skirts.
He fought his way through petticoats, over ribbons, brushing bare skin at last—soft thighs and, finally, the sleek wetness of her cunt.
He had defiled her beautiful mouth. Now he needed to make it sing.
With a crooked finger, he stroked over the plump flesh, smooth as her thighs. What a wicked surprise. The soprano shaved, or maybe waxed. She spread her legs wider, and he stroked her slit, teasing at her nub, caressing but not penetrating her body.
‘My turn,’ he grumbled low in her ear. He rubbed until she moaned, a high, needy sound. ‘Keep quiet, Miss Delaney. If your voice carries across the theatre, everyone will know. Because your voice is unmistakable.’
‘Don’t you tease me, Zadora.’ And she spread a little wider, until her skirt stretched taut between her knees.
‘Now that I have you, I will do exactly what I want. Take the time I want. Enjoy you as I please.’
Odette buried her face in the crook of his neck, stifling a moan against his skin, and when he languidly circled her nub, she exhaled with both desire and relief, bucking her hips at his touch.
He kept stroking, kept working her until she clung to his shoulders and her nails pressed through his coat.
‘What would you do if I stopped?’ He slowed his gentle movements. Ran the tip of his finger along the line of her sex again. ‘What if I decided to make you wait?’
‘I would finish myself,’ she snapped, already rummaging through her skirts with her free hand.
‘Don’t you dare. Not until I say,’ he warned. She hesitated, then submitted, limbs growing liquid within his arms. ‘Good,’ he offered, and resumed his rhythm. ‘I want one note from you. One sound. One moan, just for me. And I don’t care how loud it is. Understand?’
She nodded, biting her lip. Cassius slowly slid two fingers inside her, deep, deeper, until his knuckles pressed against bone.
He pulled out even more slowly before pushing into her again.
And again. In and out, in and out, he strummed her as an adagio, and when Odette forced another rumble of pleasure into quiet, he withdrew completely and licked the tips of his fingers.
She watched him, lips parted, and as he fumbled his way through fabric once more, she pulled her skirt up a little to help.
Her breath caught when he thrust inside her again.
She was wet, warm, so soft, so tight around his fingers.
Cassius stroked faster now, all the while trying to imprint the feel of her in his mind, the smell and the taste of her.
This was a memory to pluck out later, to relive on lonely nights or through boring conversations.
He would relish recalling how he’d played the soprano as if she was his instrument.
He rubbed her nub, too, his dexterous fingers working at all her points of pleasure, and Odette thrust against him, riding his hand.
She tightened around him, still stuffing down her groans, her mouth pressed close to his ear, and her hot breath seared his skin. ‘When?’ she panted.
‘Now.’ He thrust faster, drew neater circles. ‘Sing for me.’
Her entire body softened. Little gasps blossomed into tiny moans, and she rolled in sync with him, at first matching, then mastering his rhythm.
Now it was his turn to follow her, to stroke as she guided.
She held a breath, her eyes fluttering closed, and with a delicious gasp, gave voice to her climax.
One long, throaty moan filled the pit, swirling all the way up through the empty mezzanine to reach for the boxes, a sound of heaven made audible, of touch turned to song.
Cassius took in her flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair, her eyes closed and her expression abandoned to pleasure…
damn, she was beautiful. Always so beautiful, but this was beauty turned to chaos, uncontrolled, unravelled, only for him.
A ripple chased through her, her muscles tightening and easing, outside and in.
He flicked his fingers one more time to stretch out the last of her moan for just a beat longer… then she collapsed against his chest.
Cassius withdrew his fingers. She stayed curled against him, trembling.
‘Was that better than—’ he began, but stopped when she sat upright, blinking hard like she didn’t recognise him. She placed her palm against his chest and pushed herself up to shake out her skirts and fix her hair.
‘That… that’s settled then,’ she said, her tone unusually flat. ‘We have that out of the way. Now we can go on as we were.’
And before he could flex his fingers or even wipe her wetness from them, she had crossed the pit.
‘Odette?’ he called, but the door slammed shut.
Cassius licked, then sucked at his fingertips. Smelt what he’d drawn from her. Savoured it. Tucked every sensation away.
The soprano undone indeed.