It is magical.
Chapter 6
Herne
A few minutes into the show, I'm spending more time watching Elle than I am watching the stage. Her unabashed enjoyment is mesmerizing. The way her face lights up, the wide eyes, the small smile that I don't think she even realizes is on her face.…
I rub the back of her hand with my thumb, enjoying even that small contact. The pleasure in that little touch leads to thinking of all the ways I want to touch her, all the things I want to do to her and with her. It's making it somewhat difficult to watch the show, though I've already seen this one before. Seeing Elle's reaction is much more interesting anyway. I find my patience fraying as I sit there next to her, so close to what I want.
I shift in my seat as I eye the door I know leads to the backstage area. This theater is still sometimes used for live productions, as it was originally intended, though those are increasingly rare as VR takes over. The door to the deserted backstage is just a few steps away.
Tempting. Very tempting. The idea of taking Elle back there and.… Actually, apart from what I’d like to do if I can get her alone, she might find the relics backstage interesting in themselves. It would be fun to watch her discover them.
I lean towards Elle, breathing in her delicate, slightly floral scent. Everything about her seems to turn me on. "I want to show you something," I whisper.
She turns, her eyes a little surprised to find me so close. I'd only have to lean in to steal a kiss. My eyes drop to those pink lips, already slightly parted so invitingly.
I hold back. Barely, but I do. Patience. Elle isn't like the women I'm accustomed to.
"What?" she asks in a low voice.
I jerk my head to the door almost hidden in the shadows. "The backstage area. It's old, old enough to hold a lot of interesting theater pieces from decades past. I thought you might want to take a look around."
She looks in the direction I've gestured towards.
Come on, Elle, come on, I chant inside my head. If she knew the thoughts running through my mind right now, she might run in the other direction.
"Are we allowed to go back there?" she asks, turning back to me, her face concerned.
I smile inside. Adorable. "I won't tell anyone if you won't."
She rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath. She bites her lip as she glances around for a moment. Everyone around us is engrossed in the show. I doubt anyone will even notice. She must come to the same conclusion because she finally nods.
"Fine, but if we're caught, I'm blaming everything on you," she warns.
"Of course. I'll say you were my hapless victim."
She narrows her eyes at me. I hope that wasn't too much. But she isn't scared off. "Lead the way," she says, almost daring me.
She’s perfect.
I take her small hand in mine and lead her to the side of the enclosure, so we're not blocking anyone's view. Hugging the wall, I reach out to the door. This would be a terrible time to find out they've started locking it. I let out a silent breath in relief as it opens silently. I tug Elle inside and close the door behind us.
It's pitch black inside the windowless room, but there should be a switch.… I slide my hand down the side of the wall near the door and find it. It's old, one of the now-defunct lever switches. The backstage hasn't been renovated for some time. Doesn't make business sense when it's so rarely in use. It clicks under my hand and the light flickers on.
I hear Elle gasp beside me.
"Oh. Oh, wow," she breathes.
It's a tight space, almost every inch packed with items that once had a rich life but are now forgotten. Posters, props, furniture. It's an explosion of color and texture, sitting here, gathering dust. Completely obsolete since newer and better things have emerged to entertain us. It's sad, but it's always been the way of the world.
Elle makes a beeline for one corner of the room, her eyes wide. Straight for the rack of costumes.
I smile at that. Of course she would want to take a closer look at those.
"Oh, these are wonderful!" she exclaims, beaming at me. She holds up a short dress made entirely of rows of fringe. "Oh, look! Shoes, too!"
I lean against the wall and watch as she paws through the clothes, excited at the fabrics and the stitching, the construction. I have no idea what she's talking about, but it's fun to watch her having fun. She goes through all the costumes, her running commentary fascinating, but she comes back to the short dress she first picked up.
I can see she's imagining how it would look on her.
"Go ahead. Try it on," I urge.
She bites her lip. "I really shouldn't," she says, looking up at me. Her tone tells me she wants to be convinced, as do her fingers as they continue to run through the silky fringe, making it sway. I'm more than happy to oblige.
"Why not?" I ask, trying to sound practical instead of lustful. "It's just sitting here, gathering dust. Nobody will mind."
She sighs, running her fingers through the smooth fringe again. "All right," she finally agrees. "But you have to turn around," she orders, giving me a firm look.
I immediately turn to face the wall. That dress is a lot less clothing than she's wearing now. I'm happy to forego the glimpse if she'll change out her jeans and sweatshirt for it. As I listen to the rustle of material behind me, I imagine her peeling off her clothes. Revealing all of that smooth, golden skin. Those sleek curves.
My cock throbs in my pants, painfully hard. It's been hard ever since I sat down next to her. I try to adjust it, but there's nowhere to put the thing that isn't uncomfortable. These pants aren't made for this.
How can Elle affect me this much when most women have been leaving me completely cold lately?
I want to touch her so badly.
I behave, though. I don't even try to sneak a peek, even though it costs me. I don't want to take anything from her. I want her to give me what I want of her own free will. It means more that way.
"Okay," she says, a little shyly. "You can look now."
I immediately turn around.
Oh.
Oh, Elle. My cock throbs its agreement of my eloquent assessment.
The black fringe only skims her curves, hinting at them. What I really like about the dress is how it cuts off just under her ass, leaving the long, gorgeous lines of her legs bare. Her arms are bare too.
My fingers itch. I want to touch all of that smooth skin. Kiss it. Have it pressed up against mine. Better yet, have those smooth arms and legs wrapped around me, holding me tight as I sink into her. As I bury my cock inside her.
"You look beautiful," I say, completely honest. "You do it justice." If my voice is a little deeper, a little hoarser, there's nothing I can do about it.
She blushes a little. It makes me want to shower her with compliments.
"Watch this," she says, looking up at me with a shy smile, her eyes twinkling. And then she does a quick shimmy to get the fringe moving. It flares out around her in a burst of black thread.
I laugh, stepping closer, enjoying how much she's enjoying it.
"You look so pretty that I wish I had a dance to take you to," I murmur as I slide an arm around her waist.
Her eyes are wary, a little surprised as she looks up at me.
"Elle?" I ask.
"Yes?" she whispers, her eyes almost golden in this light as she watches me.
I raise my hand and slide my fingers into the hair at the back of her head, the thick, heavy weight of it warm from her skin. It's just as soft as I imagined it.
"I want to kiss you now," I murmur, my eyes dropping to her slightly parted lips. "Will you allow me to kiss you, Elle?" I look up to meet her eyes again.
Her breath is coming faster, her hands gripping my arms tightly.
I don't want to move forward without her permission. She isn't like the women I'm used to. She doesn't know how to play games. If she refuses, I won't push. I'll walk away, no matter how much it hurts.
Say yes, Elle. Please say yes
.
"Yes," she says faintly.
The word only just leaves her mouth before my lips are there against hers. Soft, full. I slide my tongue gently past those plush lips, tasting her. I groan, my hold on her tightening.
There's just something about her. Her taste, her scent…Everything about her draws me in, keeps my attention.
She kisses me back, tentatively, but then with more confidence as the kiss deepens, as I pull her in tight against my front. The softness of her stomach against my erection feels so good. The way her breasts flatten against my chest. The beat of her heart against mine.
But it isn't enough.
I start to guide her towards a dim corner, where I'd spotted a purple velvet couch while Elle was looking at the costumes, a perfect place to lie down.
Elle makes a surprised noise as we reach it but then relaxes again.
I carefully lower her onto the cushions, coming down on top of her but leaving some space between us. I reach up to close my hand around her breast. I growl as I squeeze the soft flesh, too turned on to curb the sound. My beast likes her too.
A lot.
I suck in a breath as I tilt my head, my tongue tangling with hers as I let go of her breast and slide my hand down.
Down.
Past the nipped in smallness of her waist.
Down.
Past the rounded curve of her hip.
Down.
Right to where the hem of her dress ends.
My fingers hit the silky smooth skin of her thigh and her hand grips the front of my shirt. I break the kiss, watching her from inches away as I slowly slide my hand up her inner thigh. She swallows, her eyes locked on mine. I stop at the soft cotton of her panties.
They're damp.
I can feel the heat coming off her, her desire more of a turn on than anything else so far. My cock jerks in my pants.
Careful.…
I skim a finger down the very center of her.
Her cheeks are flushed a deep pink, her breathing is rapid, her eyes hot as they remain locked with mine. But she doesn't stop me. I lower my forehead to hers and keep the eye contact as I slide my fingers into her underwear. I pull the panel to the side, baring her softest part to me.
And then my fingers are on her, touching the slickness of her soft folds, learning how she's made. Searching out the sensitive parts of her, the parts she likes to be touched.
Before I zero in. Before I find the little nub of her clit.
She gasps, her eyes closing as I rub at it lightly, watching her face. She's so responsive. So wet. So real. Not at all like the women I've become accustomed to with their practiced responses. No. Elle is genuine.
And I can't get enough.
I keep up the stimulation with my thumb where she wants it most, twisting my hand so I can slide a finger into her clinging entrance. I groan. So wet and hot. And tight. Very tight. I frown at that, wondering...
But she's already biting her lip as her legs start to move restlessly underneath me.
She's close.
I increase the speed of my circles, keeping my finger deep inside her, wanting to feel how she clenches on it when she comes. I rub my lips against hers, our breathing harsh in the quiet, the wet sounds of what my fingers are doing the only other noise in the room.
"Herne," she whispers, her head turning into the back of the couch as she arches her back. "Please..."
I slide my face down to the side of her neck and suck on the delicate skin right below her ear.
She cries out, clamping down on my finger as her entire body goes rigid, the orgasm rushing through her.
I groan as I force her to ride it out, wanting to be inside her so badly. Wanting to feel those strong contractions on my erection instead of my finger. My cock is already leaking in my boxers, leaving them damp with my desire.
She's so gorgeous when she comes.
After long moments, her body finally relaxes back onto the couch, her breathing deepening as she reaches down to grip my wrist and tug.
I pull my hand away.
I need to be inside her.
I need it more than I need anything.
I grip the hem of her dress, pulling it up, baring the gorgeous curve of her smooth hip.
But her hands come down to stop me.
I look up, surprised, the haze of arousal only somewhat parting.
"I should go," she says with a small, shaky smile, pulling her dress back down.
Her words don’t penetrate for a moment. "Go?" I repeat, the word not completely making sense to me in my state.
"Yes," she says, pulling away from me and sliding off the couch. "It's late and...and I really should get going."
I blink at her, my brain slowly grinding back into gear. It takes an embarrassing amount of effort to start thinking again.
Well.
This is completely unexpected. I've never been turned down at this late point.
Elle turns to her discarded clothes, gathering them quickly, and then ducks behind the costume rack to change.
This hasn't happened to me in…ever.
This has never happened to me. I don't think I like it. This is what rejection feels like.
If it was anyone else, I might just let her go and chalk it up to an off night on my part. But I can't. Not with Elle. I want her too much. I can't just take this as an experience and move on.
My cock throbs its agreement in no uncertain terms. My beast echoes it. All of me is in perfect agreement.
I need to see her again.
I know of only one sure way to make that happen. It maybe underhanded to use it when I know she won't refuse. Even if she rejects me there, at least she'll be able to attend. Be able to use the opportunity to her advantage, as I have no doubt she will. She strikes me as a very capable woman.
"Wait," I call out as she emerges in her clothes, her body covered up once again.
She turns to me, pushing her hands into her pockets, not meeting my eyes. Her face is pink, her forehead furrowed.
I feel my heart soften. Even after that orgasm, she still feels shy.
"I want to give you this," I say, pulling a small card out of my pocket and closing the distance between us. I keep them on hand in case I see a pretty girl I want to invite or I run into someone I know who wants one.
Elle is so much more than a pretty girl, which might explain why I want her so much more.
She looks up, surprised when she spots what I'm holding. She takes a step forward, her eyes on the card. She takes it, her mouth in a small O, rubbing the thick, rare paper between her fingers.
It's expensive to print invitations on recycled paper, the commodity is so scarce. My guests always enjoy it for its very rarity. It's a small touch, but I know it makes the invitations even more coveted.
"This is an invitation to the cotillion," Elle breathes. She looks up at me, her face stunned. "How did you get this?"
I shrug. "I know people," I say. "I want you to come." I smile as I put my own hands in my pockets, taking a cue from her. What I really want to do is touch her, but she's drawn the line. For now. "At the very least, you'll be able to dazzle any potential sponsors. I'm sure you'll have them lining up."
I find I actually am sure of that. I haven't seen her designs, but anyone with the drive and passion she has is bound to have created something good through sheer determination alone.
I want to see her designs. I want to see her again.
Come on Elle. Say you'll come.
She runs the paper through her hands again before looking up at me. "Thank you, Herne. I...thank you." Stepping towards me, she goes on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
I feel the small touch all over my body.
With one last smile that warms every inch of me, she opens the door.
And disappears.
Leaving me alone with a hard-on that doesn't feel like it's ever going to go away.
Fuck.
I sit down on the couch. I can't leave. I need to wait for my erecti
on to at least go down a little before I go out in public. It doesn't help that I can still smell Elle on me and the couch I'm sitting on.
I drop my head into my hands, trying to think of every non-sexy thing I can think of. Baseball. Adir in booty shorts. Caviar. I really hate the stuff, though it's more expensive than gold. One of the not-so-sophisticated things about me.
I sigh, leaning back until my head is resting against the back of the couch. My erection still as hard as ever. No way I can hide that thing. I glare down at it.
No, I don't think I enjoy being turned down at all.
But I know I'll never forget the woman who did it.
Chapter 7
Elle
As I walk away from the theater and Herne, I slide the invitation into my pocket. It's more precious to me than gold. How did he get that invitation? Not only are they expensive, one thing my stepmother wasn't lying about, they're almost impossible to find so close to the date of the cotillion.
The truth is, even though I'd been working on my dress frantically to get it done in time for the cotillion, I'd already known in the back of my mind the chances of my actually being able to go were slim. Slim to none.
So the fact that Herne just happened to have an extra invitation to give me is beyond puzzling. It’s nearly miraculous.
As I walk through the dark city, my body is still buzzing from the orgasm he just gave me. Waves of heat flash through me as I remember how Herne touched me, how his kisses tasted, how he felt. How he made me feel. How his fingers knew exactly what to do to get me to climax.
He was the first man to do that.
I don't even know him. The invitation he handed me proves it. Also, the way he got us into the VR show so easily.
Who is Herne?
Does he simply have good connections or is he that powerful and influential in his own right? If he's so powerful and influential, why did he want to spend time with me? Or waste an invitation on someone he just met?
I have no illusions concerning what happened between us. Herne is a man who knows his way around a woman's body. That isn't by accident. I'm just another woman on his list. His no-doubt long list. I shake my head as I turn on to Gwenda's street.
Prince: A Filthy Sweet Fairy Tale Romance Page 4
