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Anya’s soft hand squeezes mine with surprising strength. “You don’t anymore,” she reassures me.
“Did I… hurt you in any way that night? I mean, aside from the obvious,” I amend, realizing the question might not quite come across as I intended, since I used a riding crop on her to make her orgasm the first time.
Again, a torrent of emotion ripples across Anya’s face. Her lips part as though to confess, then close. She does this two more times, seeming ready to tell me something and then thinking better of it. I’m dying to know what it is. Obviously, I did something to hurt her, but it must be bad if she’s struggling this hard to tell me. I fight the urge to command her to tell me instead of forcing myself to be patient.
Finally, she releases a deep breath and looks down at her hands, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. “I guess you just hurt my feelings, is all. I mean, I’d never done anything like that… with the bondage and the… whip. I didn’t understand that it could be something…otherthan what itseemedto be until I saw how Whitney and her partner are together… and then when you started mocking me about my virginity….” Deep splotches of color rise across her chest, and her cheeks almost turn purple. She’s so clearly uncomfortable to be talking about this. “Oh God, I’m doing a terrible job of explaining this. Please, just forget I said anything.” She can barely look at me as she peers up through her thick lashes to gauge my reaction.
I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh,” I say as my mirth rocks my frame. I fight to get it back under control as I give her hand a squeeze. “Thank you for being honest with me,” I say.
Inexplicably, her blush intensifies even more.
“Look, I’ll drop it, okay? I just wanted to understand you a little better.”And get to the bottom of why she seemed uncomfortable when we came in.But now that I have, I can see why she wouldn’t want to revisit our first night together. She’s been scared enough lately, and in all honesty, the last thing I want to do tonight is hurt her feelings.
As dinner comes, I steer our conversation in a different direction, and Anya starts to loosen up, her humor returning as we talk and joke. Time flies by, and before I know it, it’s time for us to head to the Civic Opera House.
Anya’s eyes grow wide as we pull into the valet parking. She peers greedily out the window at the impressive building. “We’re going to a performance?” Excitement bursts from her lips.
“Something like that,” I hedge.
I help her out of the car and hand my keys to the young valet before escorting Anya inside the grand building. We make our way through the grandiose lobby to the theater itself and make our way to the best seats in the house. Distracted by her program, Anya follows me without looking at where she’s going as she tries to uncover what we’re about to see. And when I stop her, gesturing for her to lead the way from the aisle to our seats, she looks up for the first time and gasps.
“No!” she breathes, her eyes growing round as she seesDraculasplattered across the curtain in what is meant to look like blood.
“You said you loved going to see ballets with your parents when you were a child. I thought maybe it had been a while. Do you like it?”
“Oh, Nico,” Anya murmurs, tears shimmering in her eyes. Turning to me, she flings her arms around my neck and kisses me passionately.
I’ll take that as a yes.
The prolonged embrace makes my blood rise, and when we take our seats, I find my pants almost uncomfortably tight. But we settle in, and Anya’s arm snakes around mine as we share an armrest. It feels like such a normal thing for a couple to do. Yet the gesture feels enticingly intimate. And as the lights dim and the curtain rises, I find myself focused more intently on the beautiful ballerina next to me than on any of the dancers on stage.
I love how absolutely spellbound Anya seems by the performance. Her eyes never leave the stage, and I wonder if she might have forgotten to blink on occasion as she stares adamantly, seeming unwilling to miss a single moment.
I try to pay attention and can manage to appreciate the talented dancers as they move across the floor. Still, the tantalizing slit in Anya’s dress keeps drawing my eye. When she recrosses her legs about halfway through the performance, emphasizing just how revealing her skirt can be, I find I’m unable to control myself.
Letting my hand fall to her side of the armrest, I lay my palm on her bare leg. The silky softness of her skin entices me to run my fingers lightly across her flesh, and I’m rewarded by Anya’s visible shiver. Her eyes flick in my direction, leaving the ballet for the first time to acknowledge me, and the fire in their depths tells me I’m going to love taking her home with me tonight.
Forcing myself to behave, I keep my hand in the same place on her thigh, only letting my fingers stray ever so slightly as I enjoy the feel of her soft skin. Tension crackles between us as the show unfolds in what even I can see is an impressive display of art and athleticism.
Finally, after hours of mounting tension that has put my shoulders in knots, the final curtain drops, and the audience bursts into applause. Anya rises to her feet, giving the dancers a standing ovation, and I join her, smiling as I watch her from the corner of my eye.
“That was amazing!” Anya gushes as we make our way out of the theater. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such talent. I mean, did you see the way Mina and Dracula danced together? It was absolutelyhaunting.”
Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I pull her close to press a kiss to her temple. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Did you?” she asks earnestly, glancing up at me from beneath my arm.
“Definitely.” I give her a suggestive look that tells her I very much enjoyed the foreplay of seeing her sexy legs on display and not being able to fuck her right then and there.
Anya blushes as a smile breaks across her face.
The valet brings my car right up to the front door of the opera house. As we slide inside the vehicle and turn out onto the city streets of Chicago, that electric tension crackles between us once more. I don’t waste time slowing for yellow lights or easing around my turns as I make my way back toward my penthouse.
Anticipation of what I plan on doing with Anya when we get there has my pulse racing and my cock growing hard in my slacks. I know she must feel it, too, as she sits exceptionally quiet in the passenger seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her glancing at me every so often.
As soon as I put my car in park, my self-control vanishes. I lean across the console to cup the back of Anya’s head and bring our lips crashing together. Anya responds hungrily, shifting in her seat so she can grip the collar of my suit jacket and pull me closer. White-hot desire burns through my veins, and I feel like I might explode; I want her so badly. It takes all of my strength to pull back so I can look Anya in the eye.
She reads my thoughts, releasing my jacket to spin toward the car door as she exits hastily. I follow suit, clamoring out of the car and barely remembering to lock it as I join her in front of the elevator doors. As soon as I hit the call button, I’m on her again, kissing, nipping, fondling, groping. I feel like a horny teen with no experience or plan of action. I want to feel every inch of her, and I can’t wait to get up to my apartment before we start.
