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I need her. Now. The idea of fucking her right here, right now, has my cock in agony. I kiss the side of her neck, and she lets out a little whimper. I kiss her, nibble her, and at the same time, my hand finds its way under her dress, up her thigh, and when I finally cup her pussy, she lets out a strangled little cry.
“Your panties are so wet, baby,” I murmur against her ear. I squeeze her pussy, just a little, and she moans. It only takes a second for me to push her panties aside, and my fingers find her wet, swollen, and needy for me.
“Fuck,” I growl, and she whimpers as my fingertips brush over her clit. I rip her flimsy panties off and stuff them into my pocket, and she looks at me with wide eyes. I know no one can see us up here, but even if they could, I’d fuck her right there and let them have the show of their lives.
I unbutton my pants and let my cock spring free. “Come here, Samantha,” I demand, and when she doesn’t even hesitate, I nearly roar in victory. I dig a condom out of my wallet and quickly slip it on.
“What if they come back?” she whispers.
“I don’t care.”
She’s on my lap, straddling me, and in one hard, fast thrust, I’m inside her finally, and I groan in relief. She moans, and her tight cunt clenches around me.
“Do it, Samantha. Ride me hard,” I growl, and she does, slamming onto me hard over and over again. The only thing that would make this better would be her gorgeous tits bouncing as she fucks me, so I push her gown down and they spill free.
“Harder, Samantha. Show me how much you need my cock,” I rasp, and she starts riding me harder, faster, tits bouncing, hands gripping my shoulders. She’s so wet, so tight, and I’m so fucking close. I lean forward and take one hard nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, and she cries out. She’s getting tighter, tighter, her movements jerkier, and I’m about to explode. I grab her ass and squeeze, my fingertips just grazing her tight hole, and she lets out the most helpless, perfect whimper I’ve ever heard.
“Come for me, baby. You know you want to. Look at you, fucking a man you barely know in a theater where anyone might see you. I did this to you, and it’s just the beginning,” I finish, and she comes, smothering what would have been a magnificent scream against the side of my neck. I keep talking, because it’s clear how much she gets off on it. “I didn’t tell you to stop, Samantha,” I growl, and she’s riding me again. “I’m going to take you, over and over and over again, until the only sensation that feels right is my dick pounding into you, and you feel empty without me there.”
She moans and slams onto me harder.
“You want that, don’t you?” I demand.
“Yes, Dante,” she breathes.
“You’ve wanted this since the first time we fucked, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to have you as often as I want, aren’t I, baby?”
“Yes, Dante. Please,” she begs, and then I’m pounding into her, hard, fast, brutal, and when I come, I swear I almost black out from the force of it.
When I’m spent, I pat her ass and claim her lips briefly. She shakily pulls herself off of me and goes to work putting herself back together again. She pulls her dress back up over her tits and fixes her skirt, then runs her hands over her hair. After throwing the condom into a nearby trash can, I tuck my dick back in and straighten my jacket.
“That was just round one,” I murmur to her, and she glances away. I hide a smile. A little bit more of her innocence taken by me. It won’t be the last time I corrupt her, either.
***
Samantha
When LeeAnn and John come back into the VIP box, I’m still in shock over what I’ve just done. I rode Dante like a lust-crazed slut in a public place. Anyone could have walked in and seen. I feel filthy…and I want to do it again.
My thighs are sticky with wetness, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I feel thoroughly used, but I don’t doubt him when he says there will be more later. This has been building between us since that first night, and I’m tired of fighting it. He’s an asshole, and he acted like a jerk, but I can’t resist the things he tells me to do. I need them the way I need air. I try to act natural, talking to LeeAnn before the next act starts, and I’m relieved when it does. I still enjoy the play, but I can’t stop thinking about what I just did, about how good it felt to do what he said, as if he read my mind and knew exactly what I needed.
I do not know how I feel about that. Right now, though, my body is pretty damn approving of it.
The show ends, and we all stand up and head out to the lobby. Dante, John, and LeeAnn decide to have a drink at the bar before we leave, and I excuse myself to go to the restroom. I want to get cleaned up as much as I can and try to get myself back together after what happened between Dante and me. I started this night feeling confident and in control, and now I don’t feel any of that. I feel like a mess of a woman who wants nothing more than to be alone with Dante again.
I spend a little time in the bathroom just breathing. I use some wipes to clean up my thighs, then I touch up my makeup and get my hair back under control. I stand there in my Valentino gown that probably costs more than the first three houses I lived in combined, and I feel like a stranger in my own body. I’m a good girl. I always have been, even with a body that seemed to make men assume the exact opposite. I’ve never felt anything like this, never wanted to be used the way Dante uses me, and it scares the hell out of me.
When I finally feel like I’m able to face him again and continue to play the calm, cool, collected “friend” on his arm, I force myself to leave the bathroom. I’m just rounding the corner, heading toward the bar, when I see Dante. Except he’s not alone, and he’s not standing with LeeAnn and John. There’s a tall, drop-dead gorgeous blonde standing with him. Model gorgeous. And she and Dante are leaning in, talking in a way that suggests a definite closeness and level of familiarity between them that most definitely doesn’t exist between Dante and me. My steps falter, and I feel my stomach twist. Envy, nerves, whatever it is, I kind of feel like I want to throw up.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” I hear a smooth, oily voice say behind me, and I recognize it at once. Anton, the slimy guy from the gala, is standing just behind my right shoulder. “Fancy seeing you here. The night just got a whole lot more interesting.”
“Anton,” I say stiffly, glancing toward Dante. His reaction that first time suggested that he wouldn’t like Anton talking to me, but he’s still engrossed in his discussion with the blonde.
“Ah. Don’t have Dante’s attention tonight, huh? Well, don’t feel too bad,” Anton says, and I can feel his breath on my shoulder.
