A MUSICAL NUMBER
The curtain slid shut on the vampire's feast, and Alexa giggled drowsily as Leon scooped her up off the surface of the table, his tongue eagerly lapping clean the small wounds of the bites.
"You took too much, Hubert," Leon hissed to one of the others.
"No, I wiggled," Alexa assured him.
"Hush, off stage, go," Johnny hissed to them, his hand guiding me through the dark.
"I'm all set," I told him, patting his hand on my arm, as I tiptoed toward the sliver of light bleeding underneath our heavy red curtain.
Beyond the curtain, Nireas played a familiar refrain, transitioning from the romantic frenzy of the vampire's feast into the languid almost-moan of his new music. I paused as I found the seam of the curtain. My fingers were trembling, and I clenched them into a fist briefly.
I would not let my own head defeat me in a simple scene. Nireas was a crush from years ago, nothing more. I would pose and feign pleasure like all the other girls. Easy.
I flicked the curtain aside, slipping onto the stage, thrusting my shoulders back and lifting my chin high as the bright beam of the spotlight found me. I was dressed in a white dress shirt, meant to resemble Nireas's own shirt, if not for the remarkably sheer quality of the thin fabric.
The pipe organ was to the left of the stage, built into the high wall in panels of glossy black wood and ornately molded tin pipes. The floor of the stage vibrated with the slow, calling notes Nireas played, his back slightly hunched, four hands flying over the stacked rows of keys—four in total—and long legs working at the dozens of pedals below.
It was a beautiful instrument, seemingly made for Nireas. How a human with only two hands could ever master such a beast of music seemed impossible. At the very least, they would never match the intricacy Nireas put into the notes. I allowed myself a moment of watching, stepping slowly forward, flexing my legs and pointing my toes with each step.
This scene is about his music, I told myself. Almost like a dance.
And while we hadn't rehearsed much more than the movements it would take for Nireas to place me on the carefully disguised seat above the keys, I hadn't worked at this theater for eight years and not learned how to put on a show.
As a note lifted and hung in the air, I rose onto my toes, lifting one foot up from the floor and extending it high. Nireas's head turned in my direction, watching me as he played, and I smiled, drawing the hem of the shirt up high to expose the smallest glimpse of my sex to him. His lips twitched, and an idle hand raised from his side, reaching for me, fingers hooking in command.
I darted forward, keeping my steps quiet and quick to match the brief flurry of teasing notes, and then I reached him on his bench. I sighed as I wrapped myself around his back, allowed myself to savor the fresh whiff of him, a scent I'd only caught threads of for years. I didn't need to be afraid of failing this act. Of course not. That was absurd.
I needed to be afraid of how easy it would be to get lost in it.
I hooked my fingers into Nireas's jacket collar, tugging lightly, and one by one, he pulled an arm free, replacing each hand on the stacks of white and black keys before it could be missed in the sweet, pleading music.
"Nice touch," he whispered.
I folded his jacket carefully and set it on the bench at his left, stroking one hand up to ruffle through his dark locks. One of his back arms—thick with muscle and connected from the shoulder blade—reached up and caught my hand, guiding me around the side of the bench. He watched me rather than his own fingers on the keys, his gaze dropping to my hips as I lifted a leg onto the bench. He tugged, helping me stand, and then released my hand. Two hands wrapped around the backs of my legs, balancing me as I stepped over his lap, facing the audience with my barely concealed pussy in his face. Four arms tangled around my legs to play the music, lower notes groaning with need, as Nireas leaned in, chin lifted and all eyes on mine.
He pressed his face between my legs, breathing so deeply I could feel the pull of his breath like a rope being tugged right from my core.
Did his hands notice the faint trembling of my legs? Did his eyes see the shy, nervous skate of my glance? I rocked slightly, found his chin perfectly poised just below me, and ground down with a bend of my knees. A soft vibration shuddered through my sex, the music stumbling briefly as Nireas moaned against me, his eyelids hooding over his dark stare.
Why now?
Fingers tightened on the back of my thighs, and I reached out, grabbing onto the high panels at either side of me as Nireas stood, lifting me off my toes and pushing me back onto the cushioned seat above the keys.
"Step back," I whispered, reaching out and cupping Nireas's cheek for show, scratching my fingers against the stubble on his cheek. "They need to see me first."
Nireas's music was swooning as I leaned back against the singing pipes, but his hands on my hips were fierce as he pushed the dress shirt up, revealing my sex. To him, and only him, his lips in a flat angry line, stare blazing up at me.
"They don't deserve you," Nireas snarled back, the words covered under the pound of notes.
My eyes widened and then immediately slammed shut as Nireas leaned in, delivering a filthy, licking kiss, his tongue stroking every fold and crease, lips pulling at my flesh. I moaned—on cue, but only by chance—as Nireas's tongue dipped inside of me, curling and pressing at my opening. The music pouring from the organ made my whole body vibrate, and I shivered as Nireas narrowed his focus to a gentle, almost devoted treatment to my clit.
I cried out with a tremble of harmonizing low notes as Nireas pulled away.
"Look at me, Hazel," Nireas whispered.
My eyes were already opening to glare at him, and my hands released the wood I'd been gripping to dive into his hair and pull him back to me.
"Get back to work," I breathed.
He grinned briefly, the hard lines of his face brightening with the rare expression, and then turned his head to bite rough kisses on the inside of my thigh. I gasped, squirmed, tried to force his mouth back to my cunt, even as the kisses ran an aching line right to my core, but Nireas was strong and stubborn. His hands held me in place in an almost bruising grip, his lips thorough in their hungry exploration, up one thigh and across my tummy to the other. My toes twisted and slipped on the ledge, one accidentally landing loudly onto high white keys, a bright scream of sound interrupting Nireas's beautiful, bleeding melody.
He laughed into my skin, the audience joining him as I growled and panted.
Damn him. Damn the girls for assuring me he wouldn't really be interested. They had lied, or…or—
Damn Ronan too, for putting thoughts of Nireas watching me spinning through my head.
"Nireas, please," I begged, not caring if it was the wrong note to plead on, if I was too loud or too quiet.