Chapter 9 Tessa #2
Once the show had started, the screaming and desperate attention-seeking energy was relentless, practically radiating off every woman in the audience.
Those with the closest seats and loudest voices were brought up on stage one after the other to be personally entertained and put on display by the performers.
A couple of the dancers tag-teamed their guests while others preferred a more intimate, one-on-one approach—the two scenarios equally romantic and erotic, because why the fuck not—the Eiffel Tower was both a romantic attraction and a sex position. Tomato, tomato.
Adventures always await those with an open mind. And mine was more than available, especially for him.
When the last performance finished, the chosen woman was ushered back to her seat, and the mood lighting faded to a dim, deep red.
“Play with Fire” by Sam Tinnesz began playing with a delayed introduction, and my attention was lured back toward the smoky stage—the song and atmosphere transforming to feel more like a siren’s seductive call directed solely toward me.
As the tempo of the music increased, the velvet curtains were drawn, revealing the bare chiseled back of the one man I was dying to see return to the stage.
One minor detail I had noticed throughout the evening was that every performer had a unique name embroidered in bold black lettering on the heel of their sneakers—his spelling Levi.
I had questioned the name at first, thinking they must have been branded to match their jeans. But after taking a second to inspect the rest, noting that with every routine the dancer had a different name, I knew it had to be his.
Even though my booth was positioned right up against the front edge of the stage, the majority of the dancers avoided my section for the bulk of the show.
I don’t know if it was because of who I was, the social status I held, or if Levi had mentioned something backstage that prevented them from interacting with me—regardless of the reason, for once, the lack of attention didn’t faze me.
Ultimately, I had my sights set on him; the other six could be thrown to the ravenous she-wolves for all I cared.
Levi was mine.
His muscular torso flexed as he slowly brought his arms up to grip the matte black bar above his head, the lighting emphasizing every minute detail of his back like high definition. Shadows sinfully dancing along his skin, their favorite playground.
After roughly a minute of open-mouthed gaping, I returned to my senses and took a good look at what he was actually holding on to.
Not just a rail, but a rail connected to the frame of a four-poster bed.
One with red silk sheets and matching sheer drapes that had been brought on stage during the last transition.
Excitement and anticipation coursed through my veins at the sight of him as he skirted around the massive stage prop, using the posts as if they were stripper poles, sliding down with his back pressed against them, spreading his legs, and thrusting his hips into the air in time with the song.
There was nothing left to imagine. He was the fantasy, and every move he made was nothing short of a dream.
When Levi reached the front end of the bed, he stretched his arms out along its edge, lying back while driving his hips in an upward motion, and all I could imagine was me riding his waves all night long.
Fuck, I want him to play with me.
Heat pooled between my thighs the longer I admired his performance, using the bed as if it were a jungle gym, swinging over and through the upper rails with expert precision.
His arms, his chest, his back.
I was locked in a trance, absorbed by every cut and contour along his body, nearly dropping my champagne flute, as I found myself gravitating toward the edge of the stage.
Magnetically drawn to him—the pull was too intense even to bother resisting, and when our eyes met, I suddenly found my world tilting like a ship caught in a violent storm.
My heart beat in tandem to the bass as I watched Levi cross the stage to where I had been lingering, and he crouched down in front of me, extending a gentle hand out for me to take—a gesture straight out of a fucking Disney movie.
“Do you trust me, princess?” There was a slight glimmer in his eyes as my gaze flicked over his shoulder to the bed, the sheen of the silk shimmering in the lighting before returning to him.
Once again, I found myself unable to speak. I, an actress who rehearsed lines day in and day out, performing monologues as if they were casual conversation, unscripted, couldn’t even find the dialogue to consent to what he was offering.
How was he doing this to me?
When did simple words suddenly become so foreign?
Yes.
Yes.
Fucking yes!
Answer him, for fuck sake, Tessa!
“Uh, Uh-huh...” I mindlessly responded while trapped in my entranced state, sliding my hand into his and allowing him to pull me up onto the stage. Get a grip, girl…
Levi guided me toward the prop, while the pad of his thumb drew lazy circles around the back of my palm; the motion, almost… affectionate in a way.
Of all the things I could imagine, why would my mind make me feel as though he wanted me, and not just for this performance…
Reaching the edge of the bed, I plopped down onto it, seating myself upright and watching him intently while his body towered over mine as he leaned in to release a pair of black leather cuffs from the side of the frame.
His abs were so close to my face that I could smell his succulent sweat—vanilla, spice, and sandalwood. Goddamn, he smelled so fucking good.
“I’m going to ask you one more time…” His voice was smooth, seductive, and had me melting for every word as he took one of my wrists and brought it up to his face, pressing a gentle kiss to the inner pulse point.
“Do you trust me? I’ll need a more confident answer this time, princess. Use your words.”
Confidence. I had to remind myself of who I was—the award-winning actress whom everyone adored and fawned over, and not the woman I was behind closed doors.
The woman I became when the cameras were off and the lights were no longer on me.
The one who suffered in silence as the world spiraled out around her, controlled by the threat of defeat and, worst of all, disappointment.
“I trust you,” I murmured my words with a weight that I felt deep in the pit of my stomach, squeezing my thighs together beneath my tight black skirt.
Levi’s eyes dropped to my exposed thighs, and he huffed with a devilish smirk—pure sin dripping from the sound he’d just made.
He carefully slid my wrists into each cuff, and I watched as his fingers secured each buckle. In the process, a chunky jet black ring caught my eye, and my heart sank at the sight of it and what it most likely represented.
I may always get what I want, but there were certain motives that I would never remotely consider, and one of which was fucking a man who belonged to someone else.
I had morals. I knew the difference between right and wrong.
Don’t do unto others what you would not want done to yourself, or so the saying goes.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I took a closer look at the design of his ring and noticed that the material seemed unusual, not your typical solid tungsten or colored metal. I also noticed that it was on the wrong hand—his right instead of the left.
In the split second of making the discovery, I found myself being roughly flipped onto my stomach, Levi now holding my hips in the air with a firm grasp as he ground himself against my ass, my mind melting from our new position.
Without even thinking, forgetting where I still was, I moaned into the sheets, not even caring if my makeup smeared from the fabric, given the heat of the moment and my starved libido.
His warm chest rested against my back as he leaned over to whisper in my ear, his delicate fingers wrapping around the front of my throat and lightly laying across my lips and chin.
“You’re going to have to keep it down, princess, or the audience will think I’m fucking you, for real.”
Oh God, but could you please? Jesus fucking Christ.
I was utterly oblivious to the fact that we were still on a stage, in front of hundreds of feral women. Distracted by him, drunk on champagne.
Between the music and the blood pounding in my ears, I forgot that we weren’t alone—and how I fucking wished we were.
Levi wrapped his arm around my waist and lifted me back to stand wedged between him and the bed, still facing away from the crowd.
With deft hands, he secured the cuffs on my wrists to the rail above my head, teasing me with every fluid motion, as he then ran a palm down my chest and stomach once I was locked in place.
I swallowed down another moan as the champagne rushed straight to my head like the bubbles at the bottom of a freshly poured glass, right before bursting as they met the surface. I was on the edge of rapture, ready to explode like a firework on the Fourth of July—just for him, only for him.
“Let them believe whatever they want. A little voyeurism never hurt anyone.” I boldly rasped as my eyes fell shut, and I gave in to his gentle touch. What’s the difference between a scene on set and here, besides the lack of cameras and recording equipment?
After tonight, none of this will matter anyway…
“Actions speak louder than words, princess.” Levi pressed his lips to the back of my ear as he spoke, releasing my wrists from their restraints before turning me to face him.
My gaze drifted from his lips, down his strong chin and firm chest, before landing on the silver button of his jeans. Undressing Levi with my eyes was easier said than done—I wanted to see every single inch of him in real time.
Another prideful smirk, accompanied by a set of provocative bedroom eyes, he then lifted and carried me by my thighs across the bed before setting me down amongst the pillows, firmly taking control of my wrists.
He held me pinned in place while peppering kisses along the sides of my neck before pulling away once more—fucking tease.
Was this all for show? Did he treat every woman this way with his routine?
This felt far too intimate for pretend.
Using the rail above my head, Levi hoisted himself up to stand over me, a leg propped on either side of my waist as he toyed with his jeans, and I bit my lower lip, my eyes begging for the best part to come. And what a fucking angle to bear witness.
Timed to perfection, when the music reached its final peak, he ripped away his jeans, revealing bright red briefs that hugged his body like a second skin.
Levi then tossed what was left of his clothes over my head, proceeding to taunt and shake his mouthwatering ass above me, while pulling the ties of the black mesh drapes.
Closing them around the perimeter of the bed as the music eventually faded out, along with the lights.
Leaving the two of us shrouded in a cocoon of dark desire.
Not a moment after the main curtains had shut, I could feel the vibrations of the bed already being rolled across the floor to the far back end of the stage just as a heavy weight settled over me, and suddenly, I forgot how to breathe.
I tightened my grip on one of the bars above my head for grounding, the cool metal at my fingertips being the only sense of certainty I had, knowing that I was still here and this was all very fucking real.
Darkness can play cruel tricks on the mind when it wants, and not in the best of ways either. If this turned out to be all in my head, just a figment of my imagination, I would be so goddamn disappointed.
“You—” Levi’s voice was a low rumble in my ear as a set of fingertips grazed down my left side toward my hip, and another trailed up my right arm to dance in my palm. “Are fucking perfection, princess.”
A moan escaped my lips at his sensual touch as my body screamed for more—my breath accelerating, skin tingling, core fucking molten. I ground my hips searching for friction of any kind while my eyes adjusted to the darkness that surrounded us.
“Levi.”
Please.