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“Why do boyfriends whine about going to the ballet?”
Sipping her champagne, Jules stared at Jack in disbelief. “Who are you and what have you done with my man?”
“I’m serious,” Jack said, leaning his forearms on the high table between them. “Swan Lake is good shit. Doomed love. Synchronicity that’s seriously impressive. A lot of jumping and angst. It’s basically the NFL with different moves and without the head injuries.”
She shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”
He grinned, clinked his glass with hers. “You love it.”
Jules did love that Jack read as many books as she did and not only came with her to the ballet, but actually suggested they make a night of it. They rarely got dressed up and Jules was enjoying every minute, from the audience’s collective inhale when the curtain went up to swilling champagne at intermission with people who made twenty times what they did.
She was also enjoying the sensation of her silk thong that she’d splurged on at Nordstrom, soft and sleek against her recently-waxed pussy. A surprise for Jack, for later. She was going to make him fuck her so hard she’d see stars.
The lobby lights blinked, and Jules quickly gulped the rest of her champagne, feeling the bubbles tickle her throat. Jack did the same and offered Jules his arm.
“Ready, my lady?”
“Ready.”
Jack pulled Jules to him, and she shivered a little – after all these months they still had insane chemistry. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, salted caramel voice making her body tingle all over as his lips brushed her ear.
Not trusting herself to speak, Jules nodded.
“Get a room,” someone muttered, shuffling past them, but Jules and Jack didn’t give a shit. As they kissed hard and deep, she tasted champagne on his tongue. His hands slid down her back, stopping just above her ass – they were in a classy joint, after all. Jules could feel him starting to get hard, and much as she’d love to drag him to the nearest coat closet and finish them both good, she pulled away.
“Act two,” she said, biting her lip and taking Jack’s hand, leading him just enough so he could admire the sway of her ass as they followed the herd of patrons back inside.
During the pas de deux, Jack put his hand on Jules’s knee.
He did that a lot, when they were watching TV or hanging out at the bar with Evie and Liam. Jules loved the warmth of his palm that spread over her entire body, making her feel safe. But now, the way Jack’s hand was slowly but surely sliding up her thigh, Jules was feeling a lot of things, and safe wasn’t one of them.
She looked over at him, eyebrows up to her hairline. What the hell… Jules asked with her eyes.
Jack’s handsome face, still discernible even in the dark, had a little half grin. He was up to no good. Still, his eyes said, want to?
His hand stopped on her thigh as Jules quickly glanced around. Everyone was absorbed in the live orchestra, the swelling music, the incredible feats of the dancers onstage.
No one was looking.
His fingers felt so good, brushing the delicate skin of her inner thigh. Jack was always, always good with his hands.
Maybe it was time he discovered her thong.
Jules looked back at Jack, her grin matching his.
Ready.
As Prince Siegfried held his swan lover Odette over his head in a truly impressive display of athleticism, Jack’s fingers slipped underneath the hem of Jules’s short dress. Careful not to knock knees with the old woman next to her, Jules placed her large purse on her lap and spread her thighs just enough to let him go a little further. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw his telltale shit-eating grin, pleased with the challenge the tight space presented.
The ballerina playing Odette was spinning on her toes as Siegfried watched in awe. Meanwhile, Jack placed his whole hand on Jules’s pussy, palm pressing down on her clit, murmuring in appreciation at the soft silk of her thong as the conductor’s hands frantically guided the orchestra through the challenging score just feet away.
Jules bit her lip, clutching her purse, the tiniest of moans escaping. She was already ridiculously turned on, what with the close quarters, the breathtaking display before them, and Jack’s fingers sliding underneath her panties, stroking her seam just the way she liked. He looked over, having just discovered her new smoothness, raised an eyebrow and sharply inhaled. Jules grinned. She sneaked a look at his crotch. Yep, the pussy wax was working.
Her clit hardened, poked through, and Jack began to play her slowly but surely, just like the cellist in the orchestra pit. Jules’s pussy was his instrument and he was familiar with every crevice, every stroke that would elicit a groan, a shriek, a scream.
But Jules couldn’t scream here.
Instead she bit her lip, hard, slid her hands over the leather of her handbag, and began to ride the fingers he’d slipped into her core. As seamlessly as Siegfried and Odette moved together onstage, so did Jules with the barest hint of movement, as Jack thrust to meet her, slowly at first, gradually building speed until she thought she’d die if she didn’t come, much like the doomed Odette.
The music swelled and Jules felt her orgasm building, then a crescendo just as Odette soared above Siegfried once again. As Jack rubbed her clit and fucked her with his fingers and the woman on her left was none the wiser, Jules was getting closer and closer to climax when…
The old lady looked over disapprovingly.
Shit.
“To be continued,” Jules murmured, licking Jack’s ear and biting the lobe as he gently withdrew.
Jack grinned at her, slipped his fingers inside his mouth and leaned over. “Sorry, babe. You still taste great, though.”
“More champagne?” he asked as the lights came up for second intermission.
Jules crossed her legs, the world still spinning around her and waited for the woman to leave her seat. “Drink after? Finish what we started?”
Jack nodded, kissing her soundly. Jules tasted the faint tang of her own desire on his tongue and she groaned in his mouth.
Hope act three goes fast.
“Aw man, that was brutal.”
They were sitting in the nearest swanky bar a few blocks away, a former gymnasium with great ambiance and lots of old-school touches. Jack studied his playbill, shaking his head as he read the plot summary for the tenth time.
“You’re like a Swan Lake fanboy now,” Jules teased, slipping out of her high heel and running her stockinged foot up his leg. Now that the ballet in all its doomed love glory was over, she was hornier than ever. Jack did look totally adorable with a furrowed brow, but right now she wanted attention. “Eyes up here, soldier.”
Jack looked up and grinned, shutting his program. “Apologies. Guess Odette’s whole death sequence hit me harder than I thought.”
Speaking of hard… Jules wondered if she could make him so, right here in this glam downtown bar. Guess she’d never know unless she tried.
“Swan Lake always gets to me too,” she admitted, leaning forward so he could see the full effect of the push-up bra she’d stolen from Evie’s drawer earlier today. Jack’s eyes widened at the sight of her soft, pale skin – her tits weren’t as big as Evie’s, but the bra still made them look like scoops of ice cream – and Jules grinned. Boys are so easy.
“Anyway,” she continued, running her finger around the rim of the glass holding her French 75, “something about the white tutus, and those precise little steps, and how the whole corps moves like they’re one person, or swan really…I always wonder what it’s like to be part of something so perfect. The idea blows my mind, you know?” She shouldn’t have said the word blow, conjuring up so many naughty images. Now Jules was full-on wet.
“You blow my mind,” Jack murmured, eyes glinting in the candlelight, and Jules knew he too had only one thing on his mind.
She slid her foot all the way up his crotch.
“You’re killing me,” Jack groaned as Jules wiggled her toes against the smoothness of his trousers straining against his very hard cock.
She giggled wickedly. “Now you know how I felt when that old lady glared at us.”
As she continued to stroke his cock with her stockinged foot and watched Jack’s eyes try not to roll back into his head, Jules had the perfect, naughty idea.
Removing her foot, to Jack’s whimper of protest, Jules raised an eyebrow.
“I dare you…” she began, craning her head to see if she could spot the women’s restroom with single occupancy that she’d spotted on the way in. Once Jules located it, she cocked her head. “To meet me in there in two minutes. Knock three times.”
“How the fuck did I get so lucky,” Jack said. Jules felt her heart melt at the wonder in every syllable.
But hey, she also really wanted to come again.
Swaying her ass extra hard, Jules made her way toward the door marked WC.
Knock knock knock.
Those two minutes had been the longest of Jules’s life. Visions of Jack pounding her as only he could danced through her head as frantically as Odette in her final moments. She very nearly gave in and touched herself, but as soon as her naughty fingers were working their way up her inner thigh, Jack rapped on the door.
“Thank god,” she started to say, but her words were muffled when his mouth crushed hers.
Jules felt the sink bite into her back, but the slight discomfort was nothing compared to Jack’s tongue in her mouth, his lips taking exactly what they wanted, his hands pushing up her dress, one resting on her bare ass (thank you, thong), one traveling up her neck to gently but firmly fist her hair at the nape, just the way she liked, every kiss and stroke saying mine.
She began to grind against that lovely hard cock, so sure she could come then and there, backed against the sink, when Jack came up for air and uttered the two most beautiful words Jules had ever heard him say:
“Turn around.”
A little sigh escaped her mouth as Jules gripped each side of the white porcelain, planting her feet in their fuck-me heels and sticking her ass out for Jack to admire.
“You work out or something?” he asked. When Jules looked over her shoulder, he’d backed up, still hard as fuck but wanting the full view.
Jules couldn’t help it – she giggled. They were getting ready to screw in a classy bathroom, while glass tinkled and drinks were poured just outside. Granted, she’d fooled around in a public bathroom before, but this one was way nicer.
And the city’s hottest bartender was getting an eyeful of her glorious tush.
“Barre classes, baby,” she said. “Now get that condom on and fuck me.”
“With pleasure,” Jack said. Aware of Jules’s eyes on him, he slowly unzipped his trousers and pushed down his boxers to reveal an erection just as beautiful as anything they’d seen onstage tonight. “You like that?” he asked Jules, and when she murmured her approval, he wrapped his strong hand around it and fisted his cock a few times, grunting with the effort.
“Oh, baby,” Jules murmured, watching him work himself. She was tempted to let him finish, right there, or crawl over on her hands and knees and let him fuck her mouth, but her wet, wanting pussy was demanding much more.
“I got you,” Jack said, and ripped open the condom packet in his other hand. Once he’d suited up, he waddled toward her with his pants around his ankles, and they both burst out laughing, the ridiculousness of public sex hitting them both at once.
“Okay,” Jack said, once they’d calmed down. “Do something for me?” His gaze met hers in the mirror, intense and ready.
Jules nodded.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Jack said, and with one hand firmly on her ass, he thrust inside her so powerfully Jules’s knees buckled.
“Oh god!” she cried, her ecstasy echoing off the walls as Jack took her, hard and deep. Gripping the sink, she focused on their mirror images: him behind her, hair tousled and eyes on fire, fiendish smile matching hers exactly. Her cheeks were flushed, her expression wanton as she matched him stroke for stroke, pressing her ass against his torso, primed for each and every thrust.
“Mmmmm,” she said, feeling her pussy clench around his rod. “Just like that,” she whispered, feeling her nipples harden under her lace bra. As if reading her mind, Jack reached one hand under the low neckline of her dress and pinched one nipple between his fingers, sending electricity through Jules’s body and licking the back of her neck as he did so.
“You’re so. Fucking. Hot,” Jack grunted, and Jules knew that neither he, or she, would last much longer. “Goddamn, can you please get waxes all the time?”
“Depends,” Jules said, looking over her shoulder. “You gonna pay for them?”
Jack grinned, still thrusting. “At this point, baby, I’ll do anything.”
Jules stared at their reflection, taking everything in: the daisy arrangement on the small table next to the door, the slippery porcelain under her hands, the smell of sex starting to commingle with the florals in the loveliest way, her heavy breaths, Jack’s increasingly loud grunts. She loved how vocal he was about ballet, about her ass, about everything. She could feel the air on her bare pussy – yes, she was definitely getting another one, and the sensation got her that much closer to that orgasm she’d been chasing all evening.
I am a part of something perfect.
The thought sent Jules over the edge, her eyes widening and pupils dilating as Jack deepened his thrusts and hit that magical spot again and again and again and “ohfuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmeJackyesyesyes,” bounced off the white tiles and only when the waves of pure pleasure subsided did Jules realize the words were coming from her.
“Sorry,” she breathed as Jack pulled out, and got rid of the condom, and she turned around, leaning against the sink, collecting herself.
“For what?” He came back up, put his arms around her waist, pulled her so close she could hear their hearts pitter-pattering in unison.
Jules pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. “I think I closed my eyes for a second.”
Jack laughed, kissed her nose. “I love how goddamn honest you are.”
They hadn’t said the words yet, but here, having just had sex in a public restroom after getting fingered at the ballet, Jules knew she was ready.
She took a deep breath, and out they came, smooth and easy.
“I love you.”
For a moment, Jack said nothing. Then he leaned in until his lips were on Jules’s ear, and the salted-caramel syllables came out, slow and sweet.
“I love you too.”
More erotic adventure from Lauren Emily:
eBooks:
We Just Work Together
I Dare You
Serials:
Attagirl
Camp Ardenne
Short Stories:
Attagirl: Table for Three
Body Paint
The Cusack Effect
Good Boy
Peaches for Three
Warm Me Up
The Wedding
Lauren Emily lives (and loves) in Chicago, and is the author of the novel SATELLITE.