Russian Billionaire's Virgin Assistant

I’d reserved two private boxes on the upper floors of the theater. Alexei was a grown man — he could sit by himself. I wanted Ruth all to myself. Especially with that dress she was wearing.

When we were seated, I wrapped my arm around her bare shoulders — if only to keep Alexei from trying it. She leaned into me, our closeness making me shift in my seat. I wanted more. This was comfort — not satisfaction.

“Thanks,” she said, shivering a little. “It’s cold in here.”

“Where’s your roommate?” I asked her just before the audience erupted and the curtain rose. Below us, rows and rows of musicians poised for a half-breath before launching into a piece I was sure I’d heard before.

“Red hair,” Ruth answered, her lips on my ear to be heard over the music. All it took was that soft skin brushing me, and already I was in possession of a cock that was half-hard and dangerous. “Violin.”

As the music washed over us, I took full advantage of the cut of Ruth’s dress, slipping a single finger down the length of her spine before dipping below the fabric to cup her ass. She shuddered deliciously, pressing closer to me as if that would get me to stop.

It had the opposite effect. I worked my other hand up her leg, reveling in the slide of the material against her skin. She tried to clamp her hand over mine to halt its upward progress, but she was too slow. When I reached her breast, her nipple had already peaked, eager to discover what I had in store for it.

“Max, we can’t.” Ruth’s eyes glittered, reflecting the light that illuminated the orchestra below. She opened her mouth, hesitated, and bit her bottom lip. “We’re in public.”

I glanced around us. Not one person in the audience on the ground level could see into our box — we were perfectly tucked away. The only people in our direct line of sight were the other private boxes across the hall. They were all absorbed in the performance, and any of them taking notice of what I was about to take for mine was a risk I was more than willing to take.

“I’m halfway tempted,” I said, kissing the nape of her neck, the shell of her ear, “to bend you over that seat and fuck you right here — public be damned.”

Ruth’s lips parted at that, and I took advantage of the situation, slipping my tongue in to taste her. I took my time, lazily stroking her tongue with mine while scratching my fingernails over her other breast. Her perfume was light, floral, and almost unbearably innocent. I made up my mind to buy her something richer, headier. Just another way to put my mark on her. She panted into my mouth, and I smiled.

“You’re not wearing a scrap of underwear, are you?” I asked her, exploring every curve and plane of her body that I could.

“How could I with this dress?” she hissed. “The design made it impossible.”

“It would be so easy to take what I wanted,” I informed her, and she licked her lips — probably without even realizing what she was doing. I relished the effect I had on her. The power I held. This was my game.

“And what makes you think I’d give it up so easily?” she countered.

I couldn’t control myself any longer. I pressed my fingers against her right side, making her curl into me. At the same time, my left hand found its way inside the dress, sliding beneath the edge of the low cut in the back and sliding around to the front. I cupped her intimately, and she gasped.

“You better not break my dress,” she warned me.

“You’d rather I break you?” I asked, only half-joking. Did she care less about herself than some dress? “You’re worth more than this dress.”

She darted forward and kissed me, moaning into my mouth as I situated my hand, fingers forked over her most sensitive spot.

Fuck. She was already wet.

Below, the orchestra shifted into a new movement, and this one I did know. I timed my strokes with the rhythm, using her own slickness to ease my fingers’ passage. It wasn’t hard. She was obviously turned on, and it made me, if possible, even harder. Those little sounds she made, the mewls she tried to smother with my own tongue, kissing me, made my cock beg for relief.

I took one of her hands, scrabbling at the armrest between our chairs, and placed it in my lap. She deserved to know what she was doing to me.

The music swelled, and Ruth bucked against me. I was certain she couldn’t take much more of my teasing. I slipped my fingers inside her and beckoned, hitting that secret place I knew would deepen her pleasure. I wasn’t disappointed — she bit down on my lower lip at the unexpected sensation and I extended my hand so my thumb could still reach that other spot that was going to make her come undone.

Break her.

She squeezed my cock compulsively and I jerked in my seat. If I wasn’t careful, I’d come in my trousers. As big of a release as that would be, I couldn’t have it. Making Ruth come apart was just going to have to suffice, for now.

She was already close. I could feel it — the way she clutched the arm rest, my leg, whatever she could grab. The way she tried to bury her cries in my mouth. My eagerness to swallow them — and her — whole.

I couldn’t have timed it better if I’d tried. The orchestra reached a crescendo, Ruth grabbed for me, I bore down, and all but consumed her as she climaxed right in my arms, right here in our private box, where anyone could simply look and see exactly what was going on. It was exhilarating.

I was lucky I had been able to talk myself out of a much needed orgasm. I could be a patient man sometimes. And next time, the pleasure was going to be all mine.

Unexpectedly, Ruth’s roommate stood from her seat on the stage, the spotlight fixed on her, and the entire hall collectively held its breath. Ruth tensed minutely in my arms, her body wooden with anxiety. The redhead’s notes were plaintive, pure, and expressive, and when she sat down again at the close of the solo, Ruth relaxed completely.

“What, you thought your friend was going to fuck it up?” I asked her, my lips against her ear.