Bridget was a fan of opera and had spent many an enjoyable evening listening to the wonderful music of such greats as Cavalli and Mozart. It didn’t take long, however, for her to realize that Stephen didn’t share her passion for the music.
The curtains had barely opened on the stage before his hand was on her knee. She kept her gaze fixed on the performers, while he slowly pulled up her skirt.
Stephen leaned over and whispered in Bridget’s ear, “Have you ever had sex at the opera?”
Heat raced up her neck. The mere thought of it had her cheeks turning to flames.
“No. I have had moments of great emotional connection but not actually become aroused,” she replied.
Please. Touch me. Do what you did with your tongue this afternoon.
Her gaze drifted from the stage to Stephen as he moved forward in his seat. He dropped to his knees on the floor, which considering his height and size was no small feat.
“Good, then that means I will be your first. And your most memorable.”
A thrill of lust coursed down her spine as he gripped the sides of her skirts and bunched them up, settling them on her lap. Cool night air kissed her heated sex.
“No one can see you. Just me. Now spread your legs, Bridget. Let me sample that honey pot I have been dying to taste since the moment we arrived.”
If she had thought to protest or to even say no, the words were beyond her. The second Stephen’s tongue touched her folds, Bridget lay back and surrendered. Her fingers gripped the sides of the chair as he unleashed his masterful skills of oral pleasure upon her sensitive flesh. He licked, sucked, and then shockingly nipped at her bud with his teeth. Bridget closed her mouth as tightly as she could, desperate to stop a groan from escaping. The people in the next box must surely be able to hear.
The torture he inflicted on her sex was exquisite.
“Stephen,” she whimpered.
He slipped one and then both of his thick thumbs into her. The stretch and slight burn was almost too much. Rising up on his knees, he began to stroke deep. “Tell me if you want me to stop. I want you to feel a little pain, but only if it is what you want. If it brings you to orgasm.”
She had never experienced anything like this before. Never thought the line between pain and pleasure could be so razor-thin. Every time she thought she wanted him to release her, the aching demand to find her climax held her at his command.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
“I need. I need to come. Oh, Stephen, please, I want you inside me,” she begged.
There was a flurry of movement, and the next thing he was settling her onto his hardened cock. He thrust hard and deep into her, and she sobbed.
“Stephen, yes.”
The people in the opera box on the opposite side of the theater would have a clear view of them, of what they were doing. She should be shamed by this behavior.
He speared his fingers into her hair. “Come for me, Bridget. Show your man what he means to you.”
Their lips met as she finally crashed through into a blinding orgasm. He pumped furiously then let out a long groan of satisfaction as he followed her with his own climax.
Her head dropped onto his shoulder and he wrapped her up in his arms. The music continued, the song distant and unheard. Her ears were filled with the loud thump of her heart.
I think I am falling in love with you.
The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she dared not give them voice. She was already smitten with Stephen, a man who was determined that no woman would ever hold his heart.
Their relationship had already taken her to the dizziest of sexual heights, but the only way for her to escape was to fall. There was nothing Bridget could do, except brace for the inevitable impact.