Page 107 of The Failed Audition

While he screws me deep with his fingers, he carries me to the ledge of the marbled tub, setting me down. He remains standing, and using his free hand, he grips the shaft of his erection, which is much larger than anything I’ve seen up close.

Boys. You were with boys, Thora James.

“Open,” he commands.

I am so wet. My back arches some, but I manage to part my lips. He fills my mouth, and I breathe through my nose, the erotic image like a trigger for my body. I nearly lose it, my toes curling and a raspy noise vibrates along his hardness. In my mouth. He places his hand on the back of my head, controlling how deeply I go. The movement. That mixed with his fingers in me.

I… almost fall backwards. Into the water.

He keeps me upright. And my hands slide onto his toned ass—Dear Lord. In heaven. It’s the way he’s looking at me too. His heavy breath, his arousal growing. He’s getting off watching me get off.

I pop him out of my mouth, right as he hits a spot that sends me over. I cry, so loud that he instantly covers my lips with his large hand, drowning the noise. I haven’t even caught my breath before he picks me up, as though I weigh nothing to him. And brings me into the tub.

My eyes are closed, but the hot water soothes my skin as soon as I’m lowered in it. He splays me against his chest. While he leans against the porcelain. His lips are on mine, but I can barely breathe still.

“You’re going to come again, little mouse.” His breath tickles my ear. “Until I decide to come with you.” Fact: he loves watching me orgasm. I just can’t imagine doing it again and again. And again.

“Not…possible,” I pant.

He squeezes my ass, and then his fingers dive back between my legs, pressing against my swollen clit from a new angle. I tighten around him, pulsating. “Nik.” I can’t see straight. I can’t even form another word. I am in his care, his possession. For the rest of the night.

“Anything is possible.”

And I think,only with my devil.

ACT THIRTY-TWO

Four months at Phantom and I finally have a better routine for the aerial hoop. My training with Nikolai is thanks for that. My strength has improved, no more hoop burns. Top that with more sensual tricks, and I usually earn a warm applause at the end.

I even changed the music, no more emotional Broadway ballads. I go straight for mixes with sultry undertones. “My Song 5” by Haim blares through the amps and propels me forward. After weeks of Roger underpaying me for my “average performances” I caved—and it wasn’t soul-crushing.

I’m still me.

Focusing on my routine, I do the splits, not just any though. I grasp the lower rung of the hoop, my legs outstretched, and then I channel my strength, lifting my body upside-down. I blow out breaths through my nose, making it look as effortless as possible.

Blood rushes to my head, but I keep my legs extended. This is the part where I have to ignore all the whistling and hollers.

Concentrate on the music, Thora.And I do.

I breathe out, and I point my legs straight, releasing a hand and supporting my weight with one single grip. As the musicescalates, I lower onto the hoop, straddling the metal. I move more often than I hold shapes.

They enjoy watching me spin and twist and basically gyrate along the apparatus.Gyrate.Not my favorite word when I describe my profession.

No worries.

I exhale strongly.

January. I have to wait for January and then I’ll be auditioning for Aerial Ethereal.You can do this.When my act finally ends, I receive that warm applause, and the hoop descends to the stage.

“Show us your tits next time!” Someone yells out.

My stomach lurches. That’s a new one. My feet hit the stage, and I swallow the rising lump in my throat. They’ll always want more, won’t they? The fact is hard to digest.

On my way backstage, a man at a high-top table slaps my ass and then grabs it in a firm clutch. Fuck. The force is so hard that I wince, stinging, and the sound of the whack rings in my ears.

I spin around to shove him off. My heart races and pumps with adrenaline, but security already slips between me and him, separating his grip on my ass.Let it go, Thora.

My eyes burn.

---