Interlacing

Jessica’s [POV]
She turns around startled. “Why? I thought you said you wanted to go to the opera. It wasn’t my idea, anyway.”
“Whose idea was it then?”
“Parker’s. He called this morning to ask if there’s anything you wanted to do in London and hadn’t gotten to, and I remembered you mentioning the opera. Just don’t tell Parker I told you he asked. I wasn’t supposed to.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Then why did you?”
Dani smiles, shifting in her seat to face the front again as the curtain opens, then adds over her shoulder, “Because I thought you should know.”
I stare at the back of her head, my heart suddenly thumping so hard I swear I can feel it reverberate through my chest. I am breathing as if I’ve been running on the treadmill for an hour or had wild sex.
I sit up straighter as the show begins, and almost manage to relax a bit as the first notes start reverberating in the magnificent hall.
Then Parker enters the box and seats himself next to me.
For the next fifty minutes, I force myself to stare at the stage without taking in anything that happens on it. I’m not even aware of any sounds. The only thing I’m painfully aware of is that every inch of my skin is burning with an intensity it never has before.
Because Parker isn’t looking at the stage at all.
He’s looking at me.
When the first act ends and the break begins, Dani gets up. I don’t dare move.
“I’m starving,” Dani says, starting toward the door. “Anyone want to check out the buffet?”
“I’m not hungry, I’ll wait here,” I lie, thinking that the fifteen-minute break will give me some much-needed time to think without Dani or Parker around.
After a long pause, Parker says, “I’m not hungry, either.”
“Fine, see you at the end of the break,” Dani says, exiting the box.
In the silence that follows between Parker and me, the only sound is that of my stomach-empty for at least eight hours-growling.
“I get the sense that someone is hungry after all,” he says in an amused tone.
I take a deep breath, then turn to face him. Big mistake. His eyes . . . something’s different about them. They seem a few shades darker. No, they are a few shades darker. The intensity of his stare completely unsettles me. And when I lower my gaze to his full lips, I find them wet, as if he just licked them.
“I thought you would go with Dani and I wanted to be alone and-”
“Run away?” He shifts in his seat, not taking his eyes off me.
“Maybe,” I admit.
He leans in, and I instinctively lean back, wanting to avoid getting that close again. I had first-hand proof of how his scent could affect me.
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“You know why. Don’t you?” I ask, suddenly overwhelmed by dread. Maybe I’ve read the whole thing completely wrong. Maybe what he’d meant in his message last night was that he just wasn’t attracted to me…
“I do,” he replies, and a knot loosens in my stomach. He drops his gaze, and when he speaks next, his voice has dropped a few tones. “I can’t make up my mind.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
I gulp. “What’s going on in your mind, Parker?”
He tugs his lower lip with his teeth. “You want to know?”
“Yeah, I want to know.”
He shifts his weight on the edge of the seat, and when he leans forward this time, I don’t back off. “I’m thinking I would very much like to see you come,” he says into my ear. My mind doesn’t register the full impact of his words right away. But my body does. “Anything against that, Jessica?” he whispers, his hand trailing up and down my inner thigh.
“N-no,” I say in a low voice. So now that I hope he hasn’t heard me. But he has. There’s no other explanation as to why his hand has already found its way under my dress.
“Turn around and spread your legs,” he commands.
“Parker,” I mumble, “not here . . .”
“No one can see us, and Dani won’t come back soon. Turn around.”
Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I turn around. My body no longer seems to listen to any commands of mine. I lean my back against his chest, my head resting on his shoulder, my forehead touching the base of his neck. I look into the room, trying to gauge what those in the boxes opposite us can see. But I can barely see anything in the back row of the boxes directly in front of us. There’s no reason to believe anyone could see us from there. Anyone looking from above won’t have a clear view of the back row either.
“Spread your legs,” he repeats, his tone more authoritative than before. It sends another wave of heat through me. Burying myself in his neck, I open up for him. He doesn’t touch me right away. He takes his time, trailing his fingers on the inside of my thigh, inciting a deep hunger in my core that grows with each inch of my skin he touches until I drop any pretense of shame and beg him, “Parker . . .”
When his fingers touch my intimate spot over my panties, I stiffen against him.
“You’re soaked,” he says, and I take immense pleasure in the slight tremble in his voice. Then his fingers start rubbing me slowly, and I dig my fingers into the cushion of the chair as a spasm wracks through me.
This man will make me come.
Here, surrounded by people and plush velvet-covered seats.
When he stops, I let out a shaky breath and quiver in anticipation because I know what will follow. He will slide his hand under my panties, touching me-touching me. I bite my lip, hoping I will be able to stifle any sound. I close my eyes as I feel him free the light cotton from my skin, his fingers stroking me right where I need them to.
“God, your pussy is so wet,” he growls.
At that precise moment, I lose it and moan.
“You like it don’t you?” he asks, sliding one finger inside me. “For me to talk dirty.”
“Yes,” I breathe, ashamed and bewildered
at the same time. I had no idea I liked this kind of play.
“Good.”
He starts moving his finger inside me with slow, rhythmic moves that drive me crazy.
“Do you want me to slide another finger inside you?”
I fiddle against his neck so that when I speak, he can feel every word and breath against his skin. “Yes, I want you to. I need you to.”
He groans, the reverberations in his throat more of a turn-on than anything else-fingers and words included. I fiddle with my hands behind my back until I finally find his belt, but when I try to undo it, he jerks away.
“No,” he says. “This is for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means I will slide another finger inside you. And I want you to enjoy it. Anything against that?”
“No,” I breathe. “By all means, proceed.”
He laughs softly in my ear, then slides another finger in. For a few seconds, he stops any movement, letting me accommodate, and then gently pulls his fingers out. When he thrusts them back inside, he does it hard. Again and again, he thrusts them inside me, his palm pressing on my clit, sending violent shivers through me. I dig my fingers in my thighs, fighting to express my pleasure in nothing more than heavy breaths. No one might be able to see us, but I don’t want to risk being heard. Parker places kisses on my shoulder and the part of my neck exposed to him. Soft and gentle kisses contrasted beautifully with the brutal moves inside me.
“Oh God, Parker,” I say, looking for something, anything that I can bite to keep the entire hall from hearing my cry of relief. As I twist in my search, I meet Parker’s lips. Or maybe he meets mine, I don’t know . . . but my shattering orgasm finds me entangled with him in a fierce kiss.
Afterward, he keeps me against him in a tight half-embrace.
“Do you have tissues?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I say, snapping out of my reverie. I reach for my bag under the seat in front of me. I give Parker a tissue and rearrange my dress while he cleans his fingers. After a few minutes, I find the courage to look at him and am startled when I realize he’s been watching me.
“You are beautiful,” he says.
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
I look at him silently, then pull him closer to me, trying to show him, again, that I want to please him. An electric current jolts through me when I touch him there. He’s hard already. “I want you to have a good time too, Parker.” But he takes my hand away, interlacing his fingers with mine.
“No time. Besides, I told you this night was for you.”
“You’re a bit of a mystery to me,” I say.
He smiles, but it startles me to recognize the sadness in his eyes. At a loss for what to say, I just stay there, staring into his deep blue eyes. When the break is about to end, I attempt to free my fingers from his.
“We can stay like this while we watch,” he says in a soft voice, so different from his usual commanding tone. “Only if you want,” he adds quickly.
“Do you want me to stay like this, Parker?”
“Yes,” he says. “I would like that very much.”
When Dani enters the box, both Parker and I turn to face the stage, our fingers clinging to each other between our chairs, unseen to her. We watch the rest of the show like this. But just as I didn’t pay attention to the first act, I don’t pay attention to this one either. I’m too busy enjoying these tender moments.