After much debate, I decided the scene “on stage” after Alice dances with Billy and the poor schmuck steals a kiss was probably just a bit too much for the general audience. But here it is for you! Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty 1/2
“You’re not his to dance with.”
She leaned her forehead against his back and let out a breath. He could get belligerent when he was mad. She only ever saw it a few times so far, and not nearly this bad before. She gently turned him to face her, and she found him glowering at her.
“Are you mad at me?”
“No. Him.” Her relief lasted a hot second before his hand snapped around her throat. “But I’m going to take it out on you.”
She froze, her eyes going wide. He lowered his lips to hers, his breath hot against her skin. “You’re going to pay the price you promised and then some. Now…get on your knees.”
Alice could barely breathe as his kiss overtook her like a wave in the surf. It robbed her of all her air as he devoured her with all the pent-up anger and frustration that he had collected all evening.
It seemed like no matter how many times she helped him vent his frustration, it always seemed to come back with a vengeance. He was a man of insatiable hungers. When he broke the kiss, her eyes were shut, and she was clinging to the front of his shirt. She felt his hand firmly press down on her shoulder.
“Knees,” he growled, his voice husky and thick with desire.
She obeyed, eager to give him what he wanted. She had offered this in exchange for a dance because she would never get sick of it. It wasn’t much of a price to pay when it was something she wanted to give him anyway. She settled onto her knees and opened her eyes to watch him undo his belt. The sight of him towering over twisted a knot into her stomach.
She wasn’t the only excited one. He tugged his pants down far enough that he could free himself, and he fisted her hair, yanking her roughly toward him.
There wasn’t going to be any preamble tonight. He knew she liked it rough, and he was in no mood for anything but. She ran her tongue along his length slowly, wanting to savor him as much as she could.
But his patience was threadbare. Fueled by his anger, he took the opportunity to force himself into her mouth and down her throat, grasping her head with both of his hands. She heard him moan loudly in ecstasy at the sensation.
And so did she.
God help her, she loved this. It didn’t hurt her at all, and his forcefulness had the opposite effect on her that maybe it should have. He held her there for a long time. She tapped her hand against her thigh, giving him the sign that she needed air. He obeyed and relented, letting her pull in a breath before he repeated the motion. But he had an itch to scratch, and he quickly threw out his methodical movements. She pressed her hands against his thighs as he pumped himself into her, filling her throat and using her at a frenetic pace.
But eventually, she needed to breathe. She slapped her hand against his thigh again, and he relented, yanking her away from him and letting her gasp desperately to fill her lungs.
He knew how to be rough. He also knew how to listen. Slowly, he ran his thumb along her lower lip, his eyes lidded and darkened with his lust. “You really are quite the performer.” He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers.
The stage lights blasted onto full.
She nearly fell over, but his hand in her hair kept her from toppling. He cackled at her panic, and she could barely see in the sudden flood of light. She had seen him do that trick before—she knew there was no one controlling the lights. No one else watching.
But the fear had been instinctual.
She had no chance to tell him to knock it off. He rammed himself back into her until her nose pressed against his body. The sounds he was making were shameless and illicit as he began to work himself in her, slower this time. Giving her enough time in between plunges that she could fill her lungs.
Now he suddenly seemed to want to make it last.
“Such a naughty girl. Dancing with that boy to make me jealous. You wanted this to happen, didn’t you? You let him kiss your cheek. You’re mine, Alice.”
The way he half-growled, half-hissed it sounded disturbingly familiar. But there was no time to think it through. Not with what he was doing, not with the fire it was lighting in her. She was holding onto his thighs, welcoming each of his thrusts, willingly letting him pull her head to meet his motions.
“So naughty, yet…such a good girl, aren’t you? So beautiful. So—” he hissed in through his nose, and she felt his legs tremble. He thrust himself into her harder, his motions becoming uneven and desperate as he went as far as he could go. He clung to her, nearly shouting in his release.
But he wasn’t done yet. When he had stilled, he yanked her off him and half-pulled, half-threw her at the prop table in the center of the stage. She grabbed onto it to keep from bowling over, and it didn’t budge with the impact. She was glad the casters were locked, otherwise it would have rolled off the front of the stage with her on it. She was facing the empty seats and the bright lights.
But they were so bright, the seats might as well have been full.
Charles was behind her, pulling off her coat. She let him, and her shirt followed next. He pulled her back against his chest, instantly filling his palms with the soft mounds of her breasts over her bra. He groped and kneaded at them, both soothing and cruel. One hand left her long enough to undo the clasp of her bra so quickly he nearly ripped the fabric. He tossed it aside and went back to running his hands greedily over every inch of her.
“Look at you,” he murmured into her ear. “Like you were meant to be on stage. Imagine it—imagine the stands full of people watching you. Watching this. Take your pants off. Strip naked.”
She undid her pants and did as he asked. The growl of his voice, the dangerousness in it, she was helpless to disobey. And she didn’t want to. It wasn’t a command if she was going to do it anyway.
Stepping out of her clothes, she stood there naked, trembling in the glow of the lights. But his hands swept up her, hungry and impatient.
“But don’t worry. I’ll never let anyone watch. You’re mine. All mine.” He hissed the words in her ear, and she shivered violently. She had heard that voice before, hadn’t she?
No. Not possible. She glanced at him, and hazel eyes met hers. Not mismatched. Not blue and light brown. Not the eyes of a ghost. But Charles was looking at her with no less malice than Julian might.
They’re related. They look similar. They sound similar. That’s all.
Her internal debate ended as he pushed her over the table, bending her over it at the waist. She went onto her elbows, the wood surface smooth and cool against her overheated skin.
“Normally, I’d pay you back in kind for your lovely treatment, but I fear I’m too mad to be generous.”
She felt him at her core, already recovered for a second round. He was freakishly unstoppable sometimes. He stroked himself up and down her, coating himself in her own need, and chuckled at what he saw.
“Ask for it, Alice. Beg me.”
“Please,” she gasped as she lowered her head. A hand in her hair yanked her back to look out at the lights of the stage and the empty seats beyond. He wanted her to imagine the crowd. He wanted to her to feel like she was really on stage. Her face heated at the thought, and she shivered.
“Please, what?”
“Don’t make me say it.”
“Not only will I make you. I’ll make you do it loudly so everyone can hear.”
She shuddered again, and he kept tormenting her. No matter her squirming, no matter how much he wanted it too, she knew he’d never relent. He was never going to give up a fight. She lowered her head, but he pulled it back up once more. “Please, Charles—fuck me.”
He pressed into her, granting her wish, spreading her and filling her, stretching her as he sank himself until there was no more of him left for her to have. Despite his obvious temper, he took his time. She moaned, louder than she had said the words. It was only then that he let her hair go, needing to press a hand against the table near her to support his own weight. His own desperate noise matched hers.
He felt so good. So goddamn good. There was never anything she could do to resist this. He fit into her like they were meant to be together. She pressed her hips back against him, seeking that delicious ache that he brought.
“Good…girl…” he muttered into her shoulder as he began to set the pace. And she remembered then that he was angry. He was going to wring every ounce of his fury out on her. Each of his impacts into her rocked her forward against the table and drew a breathless sound out of her lungs.
Everything she could feel was him and only him. He sank his teeth into her shoulder, not breaking the skin, but likely leaving a bruise. One of his hands swept across her chest, playing with her breasts as he unleashed himself on her.
All the while, the lights shone in her eyes. It made her dizzy and disoriented, and it was like being blindfolded. All she could experience was the force behind her, rutting out a place for himself inside her.
Her pleasure crested and crashed over her, sending her pitching over the cliff into bliss. It happened again, then again, and once more before he finally joined her. She was a sweaty, whimpering, shivering mess by the time he was laying over her, panting, his chest heaving. He was in a similar state to her, and by the sound of his huffing close to her ear, he might as well have run a marathon.
“Feel better?” she muttered.
“Mmmhmm…” He bent his lips to her cheek and kissed her. “Much.”
“Charles?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m yours.” She turned as far as she could to catch his lips with hers and cradled his cheek in her hand. He had growled it at her, and she wanted him to know that she wasn’t going to argue about it. She was. If he left her now, she wouldn’t know what she would do. He had her heart, and if he abandoned her, she knew he’d take it with him.
“Even after how I just treated you?”
She chuckled. “Especially after that.”
It seemed like something in him caved at the words. He sank down against her and clutched her to him with both arms. When she broke the kiss, he was still holding her desperately. He leaned his forehead against her temple. “And I am yours. Every part of me. Every ounce of everything I am, have ever been, and ever will be belongs to you. I love you, Alice. More than life itself.”
She smiled dreamily, and she pulled in a long breath, held it, and let it out in a rush. “I think I need a shower.” She laughed.
“You and me both.” He pushed himself up from her and helped her get dressed. Her clothes felt terrible after all that, and she was eager to go back to the carriage house and clean up. “I have to go to my house and pick up some clothes, but I’ll be back in a few hours.” He laced his fingers through hers and leaned in to kiss her again sweetly.
How someone could go from zero to sixty and back again without shredding the gears, she didn’t know. But Charles managed to do it effortlessly. He could go from debonair gentleman, to lovable teddy bear, to evil and twisted fiend without even batting an eye.
And she loved it.
And she told him as much again.