About That Night.... Jeanie LondonЧитать онлайн книгу.
struck and Julienne sprang away from him in a burst of unfamiliar excitement, could barely catch her breath when she met his questioning dark gaze.
“Will you hum for me again, Nick?”
He gave her an obliging smile. “Beautiful, I’ll do anything for you. Just say the word.”
This man was a naughty boy, a kindred soul—at least for the night. She scanned the set, where props from the futuristic finale still crowded the stage, and found what she was looking for instantly.
Taking Nick’s hand, she led him across the stage. “Sit here.”
His smile widened as he took in the love swing hanging from fly lines above—a contraption made of nylon straps and soft padded stirrups where actors had mimed a weightless sex act to depict a lusty high-tech future for the Risqué.
“Taking me for a ride, beautiful?” His voice was deep, the echoing quality of the auditorium making his whisper resound through the dark quiet, making it resonate through her.
“A ride I promise you won’t forget.”
Bold words spoken by a bold stranger. He was obviously willing to take her at her word, because he struck up a lively tune, eyes heavy lidded with expectation as he stripped off his jacket and vest, loosened his collar, then grabbed onto the balance bar and maneuvered his attractive backside onto the padded seat. Leaning back, he hooked his hands behind his head.
The moment of truth.
Julienne headed toward center stage. Inhaling deeply, once, then again, she envisioned people down in the orchestra pit, in the first rows of the audience, in the loge.
Using a technique she’d devised when overcoming her nerves in the classroom, she imagined her audience’s faces—a man with inky black hair, a fresh-faced woman who looked a lot like Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island.
Then Julienne envisioned what they’d look like in the throes of orgasm. She saw the man squeeze his eyes tightly shut, his mouth parting with gusty breaths. She heard the woman’s pleasured moans, imagined her sighing to the sounds of her lover’s thrusts.
Then she pictured Nick, how he’d looked when she’d first kissed him, the chiseled angles of his handsome face sharpening with excitement, his deep eyes growing heavy with pleasure. The tune he hummed filled the stage, filled her senses, some vaguely familiar melody she couldn’t place.
And she began to dance.
The music immediately glitched as her orchestra choked on a gasp, but resumed quickly. Julienne smiled. With her feet braced apart and her knees slightly bent, she moved to the sound, arms relaxed and head bent backward so the ends of her hair brushed her waist, lured his attention to the motion of her swaying hips.
She could feel his gaze upon her, wondered if he wanted her to turn around and face him. Working her movements upward, she included her waist, her breasts, and her shoulders in the dance. She swayed with a languorous rhythm, a steady motion that hypnotized her, aroused her senses until she felt each pass of her hair sweep softly against her waist, felt the lace of her corset graze nipples that gathered tight, felt the air caress the exposed skin above her bodice, skin that grew damp with her exertions, with arousal.
And still Nick hummed, though his tempo had picked up, a change she guessed hinted at his own escalating excitement.
She shared his excitement, too. This sexy man placed himself at the mercy of her whim, followed willingly where she led, eagerly accepted what she offered.
This feeling was power, a provocative sensation heightened by the vastness of the theater around them, dangerous for the darkness she couldn’t penetrate. The feeling captured her, flushed her skin, urged her to indulge in this newfound need to titillate, and be titillated.
Slowly circling her head, first a tiny spiral that she widened slowly, Julienne shrugged the jacket from her shoulders, a slight movement she didn’t think Nick could have noticed beneath the fall of her hair.
She breathed deeply, committing to this course, knowing that once she stepped down this path she’d be obligated to follow where it led. Turning back would only be a disappointment for her, and for him, though she knew Nick’s emotional psyche wasn’t riding on tonight’s outcome.
Hers was. She needed to know she was capable of passion. Tonight was her chance to prove it. Pushing all doubts from her mind, she tugged the jacket down her arms with trembling fingers.
The music faltered, fading away and not resuming until after what sounded suspiciously like a growl.
Dropping the jacket, Julienne nudged it aside with the toe of her pump, never stopping her sinuous motions. She let her eyes drift closed and her arms float up. In lithe, airy measures, she lifted them above her head, caressing the air, giving Nick a glimpse of bare skin and the promise of more to come.
Twisting to the side, she arched her back so her leg peeked through the slit in her dress and was rewarded with another stutter in the music, which had grown higher in pitch, strained.
With a smile she rocked her hips back and forth in a suggestive motion as old as time, a motion that wrung a response from her own body, dampened the tiny silk string of her panties, made her breasts swell heavily. The long smooth motions of her dance heightened the sensation of leather against silk, of lace against skin.
Naughty girls love to sigh with pleasure.
Julienne had never been more aroused in her life, hadn’t dreamed she could feel this way. And that amazing realization gave her the strength to coil her arms behind her and reach for the top of her zipper. One tug and red leather gaped open to reveal the lace corset below.
The music stopped completely and she waited, waited, but it didn’t resume. She was left to dance alone to the sound of Nick’s breathing and the beat of her own boldness. Arching her back, she lifted her breasts to the rafters, felt the lace ride upward along her torso, the garters tug the stockings up her thighs.
She let her dress drop to the floor.
“Ah, beautiful,” Nick choked the words out on a groan, his passion echoing through the theater, resonating through her.
Stepping out of the puddle of red leather, she swung her hair back and shimmied around, needing to see his face, to gauge his reaction to the sight she must make, dancing in her very sexy underthings on a stage in an empty theater for a man who was practically a stranger.
She couldn’t have imagined his expression if she’d tried. There was nothing tepid about his look, a look that declared there was nothing tepid about her. His look was lust, pure and simple.
He lusted for her.
Julienne’s reaction had everything to do with knowing Nick wanted her, of witnessing the profound appreciation on his handsome face, a feeling of being so very beautiful to this man in this moment that each breath tasted sweeter.
She’d been praised throughout her youth for her intelligence and skill, lauded during her accelerated academic career, but this feeling, this feeling was all about being a beautiful, desirable woman who had a night of opportunity at hand with a hot-blooded man.
A world of opportunity, judging by the hunger she saw when Nick extended his hand, beckoned her nearer.
“Come here, Jules.” His harsh whisper shot across the distance between them, filled her with the strength of his longing, made her tremble in response to such raw honesty. “I’ve been watching you move, watching you expose your beautiful body and I want to touch you. You look like sex.”
His eyes, glazed and heavy-lidded, fixed on her, captured her with the potency of his words. “Can you imagine my hands on you, Jules? I want to slide them down your creamy neck and along your shoulders. I want to free your breasts and touch them. Can you imagine my mouth on your nipples?”
Julienne’s stomach swooped in on itself at his hot words, a longing, desperate pull of sensation that made her gasp. “Yes.”
“Then