She gasped, and her noise of pleasure made landfall at a brief pause in the score. She was sure someone had heard her, and she dropped her gaze down, embarrassed momentarily. Here she was, seated in the balcony of a concert hall, desperate for an orgasm.
He leaned in. “No one heard you. Tell me if you want me to let you come.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to wait until I can fuck you in bed? So you can scream and moan like you want to?”
“I want that,” she whispered in a barren voice. “But I want to come now.”
“You’re so turned on, aren’t you?”
He sounded as if he wanted to pounce on her.
“Yes. I’m unbelievably turned on,” she whispered, her voice sounding like she might very well cry if he didn’t take care of her.
“You must be so wet.”
“I am.”
“You should hold back. Can you hold back until later?”
She clenched her teeth. She knew what he was doing now. He was playing her. He wanted her to be strong. To say she could handle it. If she used reverse psychology and told him she could wait, then he’d probably let her come. As a reward. But the game was exhausting her right now. She wanted him. Without games. For real. She told him the full truth. “No. I can’t wait.”
“But I want you to,” he whispered. “I want you to wait for me.”
He turned off the toy, and she wanted to wither. To die. She thought she might claw her way out of her own skin right now. To climb the walls of Avery Fisher Hall. Anything to release this desire from her body. She hated that she was encased in it. That she’d been reduced to nothing but this.
It was so base. So animalistic. But at the moment, she was no longer a professional, no longer an evolved being. She was a fucking animal, and she wanted to be satisfied. And the bastard wasn’t letting her. She inhaled quietly. The orchestra played, shifting to the second movement. Everyone listened. The minutes ticked by. Jack’s fingers uncurled. He no longer had a tight grip on the remote. He was focused on the stage, and he was nodding his head, keeping in time to the music. He stuffed the remote in his pocket, then returned his hands to his lap. He wasn’t even touching her. He wasn’t even thinking of her. He’d asked her to wear a goddamn butterfly to the symphony and she’d done it for him. She’d let him turn her up and turn her down wherever and however he pleased. And now he was bored with her. Interested in something else. She was nothing but a plaything, and the worst part was she was still aroused.
She was mad, too. She didn’t want to play this game right now. It had gone far enough.
She tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going to go. Good night.”
She stood up, and walked out quickly, pushing on the door that led out of the auditorium and into the quiet hallway.
In seconds, he’d followed her, catching up to her. Only an usher at the far end of the hallway noticed them.
“Michelle,” he said, grasping for her wrist. “Are you okay?”
“No,” she said, not bothering to mask it or hide it. “I’m not okay.”
“What’s wrong?” His brow furrowed, the look in his eyes one of confusion.
She parked her hands on her hips. “Sometimes games work, and sometimes they don’t. It didn’t this time.” She held up a hand. “Don’t turn it on again.”
“I won’t,” he said, like a boy scolded.
She stepped closer, speaking in a low voice for only him. They’d had their picture in the paper. She didn’t need anyone to hear this conversation. “You know I love what you do to me. But you took it too far in there.”
“Because it’s public?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I wanted you to finish,” she seethed. “I don’t care if that makes me petty or foolish or stupid. I don’t care if that makes me greedy. I didn’t want to play. And then you stopped, and I was just squirming in my fucking seat. You were wrapped up in the music, and it was like you’d forgotten what you’d done to me. And I’m sorry if I sound like a selfish horny bitch for wanting you to have finished me. But that’s what I wanted.”
The corner of his lips quirked up for a second, but then he stopped, adopting a serious look when she narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought it was all part of the fun we were having,” he said.
“It is fun. To a point. And then it stops being fun when you don’t even realize the effect you have on me. Physically. Mentally. Every way. You asked me if I could wait, and I said no. I was completely honest with you, and you just toyed with me,” she said through gritted teeth, grabbing his tie, pulling him close. “Don’t you get it? You turn me on and you build me up and you control me and I let you. Because I love it, too. Because I love what you do to me. But sometimes I don’t want to be toyed with. I want to be taken care of. Even if it’s in the symphony.”