Page 59

I catch a glimpse of Cain walking along the wall towards the stage. Dressed in all black like Dean. Black T-shirt, black jeans, black shoes. His hair is a mess, chunks in all directions like he’s been painting in his studio for hours. Cain’s skeleton tattoo travels from his fingers up his forearm. I bite my lip, thinking about him pulling on my hair and wrapping my braid around his hand like his personal rope.

When he reaches the stage steps, I climb the ladder, grabbing hold of a rope I’ve looped around the rigging and wrap it around my hand, wrist, and forearm. Pulling the rope tight, I walk out onto the beam until I reach the center of the stage. My heart pounds against my chest, ready to take flight.

Of all my years at the theater, I’ve never been so excited to taste a song on my tongue.

The house lights dim to nothing, leaving us in the dark for a beat until the stage lights rise to a candlelight glow. From above, I see the suspicion in Cain’s eyes as he looks over the sheet music.

He remembers catching me listening to I Like You Best by Ella Red.

“Evening, ladies and gents. Tonight, we have something truly special: Your favorite and mine, here for a one-time performance… Our Lady Daily!” Dean’s voice comes through the speaker like the true showman he is.

Cain’s fingers hit the keys.

One… Two… Three.

I’m off.

With my fingers clutching the rope, I step off the beam and descend, the spotlight igniting the moment I break into the open stage. Moving my legs in slow, accentuated leaps, I twirl as I’m lowered to the floor. My voice haunting through the mic like a siren, luring Cain to what he’s leaving behind… Me.

I unloop the rope from the rigging when my feet touch the floor, the braids sliding through my fingers as I take it across the stage.

Hoots and whistles feed me as I flirt with the men sitting in the front row, fanning my fingers over my laced neck and pulsing my chest as the erotic words pass my lips. My fingertips graze down my chest, light and elegant. I lock eyes with another man in the front row and flash him a smile before turning on my toe, lining myself with Cain, and leaving my back to the audience.

Cain’s harsh gaze locks with mine, his eyes narrow a fraction, his jaw tight, and his nostrils flare. The look that would send anyone else running yet leaves me begging on my knees for more.

Taking slow, measured steps towards Cain, I hold my hands behind my back. Twisting my arms with each step, the audience breaks out in “Ooos” and grunts as they watch me tie myself with the rope. Cain watches me as I stalk around him. I can see the tension in his fingers as he forces himself through the song. I wait for a beat, smile, give a little shoulder shimmy, then drape the rope over his shoulders and leave a peck on his cheek before twirling off to flirt with the other band members.

However, I never touch them.

They smile, the drummer tries to grab me, then blows me a kiss as I move along. The guitarist runs his tongue along his upper lip, as if this is for him. I catch a glimpse of Cain as I make my way to the audience. His jaw ticks, muscles flexed and bulging as his tension reaches its limits.

For the final chorus, I stand at center stage, slowly moving my feet so I appear to be spinning on a turntable. Grazing my fingertips up my chest, over my collarbone, then grab ahold of my neck and dig my nails in so that my grip appears tighter than it is.

The crowd bursts into applause, hoots, hollers, and whistles. I blow a few kisses and wave as I run off backstage.

I smile, my fingers and toes practically vibrating. That was certainly the most fun I’ve ever had on stage.

“Ooof!” A whoosh of air is knocked out of my lungs as I’m thrown back onto the mats stored backstage. Flipping myself over, my eyes clash with Cain’s. “Ah!” Cain jumps down onto me, his thighs on either side of my hips, caging me in. I wiggle and push against him as he ties my hands with the rope and shoves them above my head, tying the rope to a metal structure. “Ca!—” Cain covers my mouth with one hand and wraps his fingers around my neck with the other. Effectively snuffing out any noise and a good deal of my air.

“If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask, Kitten.” Cain slaps my legs apart and settles himself there, his bulge pressing against my already aching pussy.

He’s successfully turned me into a wanton mess for him. He shoves and restricts, and I’m wet for him.

Cain lowers himself, licking along the shell of my ear and kissing the lobe as he restricts my airway a fraction more. I shudder and whimper as he licks me again, and again, goose bumps erupting over my body.

“We’re going to have to be quick, Kitten. Give it just a few minutes, and everyone will be walking through here. Seeing you… Like this.” Cain’s voice lowers at the end, and he licks the shell of my ear again. “Be a good girl for me and don’t brat out again, it doesn’t suit you.”

Air rushes to my lungs when Cain releases my neck to reach for something. I shudder as the cool steel runs along my thigh and the sound of slicing fabric hits my ears. Cain runs the blunt end of the knife over my opening, through my folds, and bumps my clit with it. He raises it between us, and I swallow when the evidence of my arousal coats the blade. Embarrassment hits for but a second before flying out the door, as Cain darts his tongue out and licks along the blade, cleaning it up and swallowing it down.

Cain sheaths the knife, then undoes his buckle and shoves his pants down, thrusting inside of me. Holding himself up on his forearm, he lowers his hand from my mouth to wrap around my neck, gripping hard.

The band kicks in, and a flurry of dancers floods the stage from the wings.

I whimper as he hits deep inside of me. Pressure builds as I try to breathe, tears filling my eyes, and I flinch with every thrust, all while I swell around his cock and soak him more. Cain grunts, licks along the shell of my ear, before sucking the lobe between his teeth.

“Thought it would be fun to make eyes with those men and make them think they had a chance with you? Huh, Kitten?” He says as he thrusts hard, faster than his usual pace.

This is meant to be a punishment.