Playing With Her Heart (18 page)

Her lips are soft and
full and greedy. But I like to lead, so I kiss her deeply,
possessively, twining my hands through her glorious hair, as I trace
the soft underside of her lips with the tip of my tongue, eliciting
the sexiest moan from her that I kiss away. I nibble on her bottom
lip, and she gasps. “Davis.”

My name alone sends me
into another realm, and before I know it I am tugging on her hair and
roaming my mouth down the gorgeous column of her neck, and right
before I reach her shoulder blade, I press my teeth to her skin,
lightly, but heavy enough to make the smallest of marks.

“Ouch,” she says,
but the word tapers off, and the next thing she says is
more
,
in a breathy whisper that turns into a groan of pleasure as I give
her what she wants. “Do you know why I want to have my hands in
your hair?” I say in a hoarse voice.

“Why?”

“Because I want to
pull on your hair as I fuck you. I want to bend you over and take you
against the wall, and I want to gather all your hair in my hands and
hear you cry out.”

“Oh God,” she
moans, and her mouth opens in a gorgeous, perfect O that sends my
body spiraling further into such dark longing for her. “Do you
think I’d like it?” she asks, playing along.

“You’d love it.
Because I’d always make sure it was good for you. And because you
like it a little rough.”

“I think I would
too.”

“And I think you’d
want me to tell you what to do. To direct you.”

“Yes,” she says,
panting, as I bring a hand down to the little pearl buttons on her
sweater. “I want to bite these off,” I whisper in her ear, my
breath hot on her skin and making her shiver. “But I think you like
this sweater. I think you wore it for me. Did you wear it for me?”

I nibble my way down
her neck to the hollow of her throat. She gasps out a yes, as I tug
on the bottom of her sweater, making room for my hand to slide across
her belly. God, her skin is so soft.

“Were you thinking
I’d like the way your breasts look in it? That I’d like you in
red?”

“Yes.”

She grabs my shoulders,
and slams me on top of her, her beautiful body against the
floorboards.

“This works too
though,” I tease.

She laughs, but then
turns serious again. “What else do you want to do to me?”

“I want to go down on
you on the piano. I want to lift you up and put you on the baby
grand, and push your skirt to your hips and tell you to spread your
legs for me,” I tell her, and she responds by opening her legs, and
grabbing my ass, so we are in perfect missionary except for that
little problem of clothes.

“Do you think I’d
do what you say?” she says breathily, as she thrusts her hips
against me.

“Yeah,” I say
confidently. “I think you’d spread your legs for me, and let me
taste you.”

“Do you think I’ll
taste good?”

“I bet you taste like
sin and heaven at the same time. I bet you taste fucking delicious
coming on my tongue.” I look straight into her eyes, and they are
full of fire and lust. “And I’m going to find out right now,
Jill.”

I offer her a hand and
pull her up, bringing her to the piano at stage right. Then I take
off her boots, unzip her jeans, and leave them in a pile on the
floor. I lift her up and gently lower her on top of the piano.

Her eyes widen with the
realization that I wasn’t joking.

“Are you really going
to?”

“Do you want me to
stop?”

“No. The last thing I
want is for you to stop.”

“Good. Now let me
admire you.”

I step back as if I’m
appraising her. Red lace panties, red sweater, and the look in her
eyes is all she wears.

“Take off your
sweater,” I tell her.

“Don’t you want to
take it off of me?”

“Yes. But I want to
watch you undress more.”

She nods, and reaches
down to the waistband, crossing her hands, and tugging her sweater
over her head. She wears a white strappy tank.

“Now the tank.”

She inhales sharply and
does as I ask, tossing it into the growing pile of her clothes on the
stage. She’s wearing only her matching bra and underwear and she’s
a sight to behold in all that red. My eyes roam her body, memorizing
her skin, her curves, the way she’s so sexy in anything and
nothing. I’m so hard right now it hurts, and I know I’ll be
taking care of myself later. Still, I touch myself through my jeans
once. “What you do to me, Jill…” I say, trailing off.

Then I stalk over to
her and place my hands on her thighs. She quivers as I touch her, and
arches her back instantly. I run my thumbs along her inner thighs,
and she’s gasping. Then I reach her panties, and trace a finger
over the thin fabric between her legs that can’t hide how turned on
she is. I circle my index finger across the wet spot that reveals her
need to me. She grabs my hair, and tries to pull me closer.

I meet her gaze, and
her eyes are fiery.

“Please stop teasing
me.”

“I’m not teasing
you.”

“You are.”

“I would only be
teasing you if I planned to stop.”

She presses her hand
against her mouth. “I can’t take it any more. Just touch me.
Please.”

“Take off your bra.”

She reaches behind her
back, and unclasps it instantly, handing it to me. I drop it on the
ground, then cup her breasts. “So beautiful,” I murmur. I lavish
attention first on one breast, tugging on her nipple as she moans,
then the other, and the noises she makes drive me on.

Then I pull back. “But
that’s not what I promised you tonight.”

“I know, and I want
what you promised.”

“What did I promise?”
I ask in a teasing voice.

“You said you’d go
down on me very soon.”

“So is now very
soon?”

“Yes,” she says,
panting.

“Is now when you want
to come on my tongue?”

She closes her eyes
briefly, opens them, moistens her lips, and says yes. “I want to
come in your mouth,” she says, and her voice is full of reckless
desire. There’s something so wild in her, so untamed, as if she
wants to be unleashed like this, and wants me to do it.

“Let me see what you
look like on my stage with nothing on.”

Jill

I shimmy out of my
panties and hitch in a breath. My whole body is vibrating, and I am
lit up from the inside out. Every part of me is screaming for him.
I’m completely naked on top of the piano and he rakes me over with
his eyes, making me feel like I’m the only one he’s ever wanted
like this. I don’t know how he does this to me, how he makes me
feel charged all over, but I’ve never been this turned on. I didn’t
know I
could
be this turned on, but this man makes me feel
like my body belongs to him, like he can bring me places I never
thought I could be. Like he can take me way past this reckless
longing into some sort of altered state of bliss.

“Jill. Fucking Jill,”
he says in a rough voice. He steps closer, curves a hand around my
neck, and kisses me gently on the lips, then pulls back to drink me
in with his eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever
met. You have to know that. You have to know how beautiful and
intoxicating you are to me. And I’m going to bury my face between
your legs right now. Spread your legs for me.”

I am aching for him,
throbbing past the point of no return. I want him so badly it’s
like my desire has become its own life force here in the theater with
him. I scoot back on the top of the piano and part my legs, my knees
falling open for him.

Then his hands are on
my thighs and I cry out. He hasn’t even tasted me yet, and I’m
already in heaven with him so near me. He bends down and traces his
tongue across all the wetness between my legs. Sparks of sheer
pleasure shoot through me, from the center of my body all the way to
my fingertips. I loop my hands in his hair, holding onto him and
pulling him closer. I want him so badly, I want his mouth, and his
tongue, and his lips, and I even want the bristly scratch of his
stubble against me. I want every single sensation all over me. But
mostly, I want him to quench this burning need in my body, because it
feels like I might die if I don’t come. I know that’s not true
yet nothing has ever felt more true, because I’ve been reduced to
nothing but feelings, to the constant bursts of pleasure that he
brings me as he licks me, his moans the sexiest sounds I’ve ever
heard in my life as he tastes me, savoring me.

I didn’t even know it
was possible to be wanted this much, but Davis makes me feel as if no
woman in the world has ever felt like this before, as if all the
pleasure cascading through my body is happening for the first time.
He flicks his tongue against my clit, and I grab his hair harder and
buck against him. Then his lips are on me, kissing me between my legs
and it’s beyond amazing the things he can do with his mouth.

Until I learn what he
can do with his fingers at the same time. He thrusts two inside me,
and my head falls back from the dizzying feel—the softness of his
mouth, the roughness of his fingers. He swirls delirious lines with
the tip of his tongue, all while fucking me hard and deep with his
fingers, and all I can picture is him inside me, filling me up,
stretching me. Soon, my world spins off its axis, sending me into a
place of pure and absolute bliss, like every molecule and atom inside
of me is vibrating, and I’ve never felt more alive.

Somewhere, somehow, I’m
vaguely aware of all these sounds I’m making, these wild moans, and
pants, as I cry out, and beg him for more and more because I’m
racing, rocking against him, reaching for his hair, his shoulders, as
I move harder and faster, my breaths erratic as I climb my way to the
far edge of desire.

I am devastated by the
feelings that wrack through my body.

I am undone. Completely
and utterly undone for him.

I call out his name,
and it echoes around the theater, reverberating across the walls and
crashing all over the empty auditorium as I come on his mouth, his
tongue, his lips. He holds tight to my hips, slowing his moves, but
still kissing me until I can’t take it anymore, and he pulls away.

My shoulders heave and
I pant hard, as if I’ve just finished a race, and maybe I have.
Soon, I open my eyes, but I still feel woozy, as if I’m barely
grasping at reality, as if I’m still living on the edge of a dream.
But he’s here, looking at me, with the same wildness in his eyes
that I felt moments before.

“Did you picture that
before I did it to you?”

I press my teeth into
my lips once then nod, still dazed on the aftereffects.

“You imagined me
tasting you? You fantasized about me eating you?”

“Yes.”

“Was it how you
imagined it? Coming for me?”

I shake my head.

“No?”

“It was so much
better.”

He inhales sharply, and
the expression on his face says he wishes he could take me now, yank
me off the piano, and slam me down hard on his cock, and fuck me
right here, like this.

“Do you want to fuck
me?” I say in a voice that’s comprised solely of lust.

“Yes. But I’m not
going to.”

Jill

I wash my hands then
dry them, checking out my reflection one last time. My cheeks are
still rosy, and I have that just-been-fucked look still. I don’t
think that’s going to disappear any time soon, and I’m okay with
that. I toss the paper towel in the trash can, smooth my hands over
my red sweater and return to the backstage hallway, then to the
stage. I still feel like I’m floating, but there’s another
feeling surrounding me and it’s harder to get a handle on.

Nervousness maybe?
Chased with a touch of hope? I’m honestly not sure, and maybe
that’s because I don’t know what’s going on. I barely even
understand who I become around him, how I can spin out of my
carefully constructed world of happy-go-lucky, everything-is-fine and
transform into this ravenous woman grasping at pleasure as if I need
it for my very survival. As if the release I feel with Davis has
somehow become as necessary as breath and air.

I move the curtains
aside and walk to the piano, trying to compose myself. But into what
I don’t know. The actress here for rehearsal? The woman unfazed by
her boss? Or the person who doesn’t have a handle on herself?

He’s on the bench,
straddling it rather than sitting at it, and he’s swiping his index
finger across his phone.

“Texting someone?”
Something annoys me about the fact that he’s doing something so
ordinary—texting—while I don’t have a clue how to act. I wish I
could abort the snottiness in my voice, but it’s too late.

He shakes his head.
“No. I’m reading the news.”

“Oh.” Now I feel
foolish, but also relieved. I sit down next to him. “Anything
interesting going on in the world?”

“It’s snowing, and
the government still has a deficit,” he says with that wry smile. I
want to reach out and touch his face, trace the outline of his lips.
So I do, and he leans into me, like a cat who likes being pet. Then I
stop because I want to know more about him. I want to understand him.

“Are you a news
junkie or a weather junkie?”

“Both. But in this
case, news. I read the
New York Times
religiously.”

“What else? Do you
read books?”

“I have nothing
against books. But I would have to say nearly all my reading is the
newspaper. Well, the paper online.”

“Cover to cover?”

He nods, and it seems
fitting that he’s a news hound. It works for him. It suits him. He
seems like a man who wants to understand the world, and so that’s
what he does. But I also think there’s more to it. “Do you think
you lean towards news so much because you spend your day with make
believe?”