Page 195 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
His fingers move in a rhythm that matches the pounding of my heart, each movement pushing me closer to the edge.
Just as the group dance on stage ends, my orgasm hits me. I cry out, and he catches it with his mouth. My body shakes from the force of it, and I come with the applause of the crowd covering my keening wail of pleasure.
Hart holds me until the last tremor of my orgasm subsides.
When I finally see him, I glance down at the bulge in his pants.
“No. This was all for you.” He kisses my forehead.
A woman steps out from the stage. “Oh, you found her, great. I hope you enjoyed the show.” She winks as she walks away.
My mind is still spinning when we meet our group in the lobby, and they’re on a high from my dance.
“That was hawt.” Josie pretends to rope me in before swinging her arms around me.
When I step back, I notice Dean eyeing me and Hart.
“What’s this?” He waves his finger between us.
“Fuck off,” Hart says.
His eyes search and squint like he’s trying to make sense of something. Then they widen with clarity.
“Did you two”—he leans in—“get your dicks and pussies wet? You know, smash, polished, balls deep?”
Hart scowls at him. “You’re the human equivalent of a migraine.”
Dean smiles. “Oh, you always know how to flatter me.” He motions a zipper across his lips, and then hugs Harper, dragging her into a kiss as we begin to exit the theatre.
I can’t even think straight.
What was I thinking back there? Letting Hart drag me behind the curtain. Letting him touch me, kiss me, make me orgasm in a public place?
I blame it on my vulnerability to the song and living in the past.
But I know it’s not true. Because when I stop being mad, it leaves room for all my other emotions to resurface. All the ones that will actually drag me into the sadness I’ve spent my life trying to outrun.
“We’re not coming,” Josie grasps my hand. “We have tickets to the meet and greet.” She holds up golden tickets in her other hand.
“A meet and greet for what?” I ask.
“The dancers. We’re going backstage for conversation, autographs...whatever else happens behind closed doors.”
I feel Hart’s body tense beside me.
“Oh, and”—she waves the envelope between us like a sword—“girls only. No guys allowed.”
I glance at him.
His jaw ticks.
Josie leans in. “They said there’s going to be touching.”
“I want it,” Dean says.
“You can wait for us, but no entry for you.”
He curses, but I’d switch my spot with him in a second.
