Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(85)

The minute the velvet curtain closes, I’m up, striding left toward a side door that leads backstage where she told me to wait for her. Except I don’t wait.

I can’t wait.

I push right through that swinging door, fingers itching to touch her, chest aching to have her head rest against it, and cock swelling after so long stuck watching her tight fucking body glide around on stage.

It’s a good thing I didn’t watch her dance much when she first joined this company. I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off her, and now I just don’t care.

Now I know my hands belong on her.

“Can you tell me where Sloane Winthrop is?” I ask a woman walking down the dim hallway with a clipboard in her hand, glasses shoved up on the top of her head.

She looks me up and down with a blank expression on her face. “Who’s asking?”

I hesitate but only for a minute. “Her boyfriend.”

She looks me over again, this time more slowly, but with a little twist to her lips. “Huh. Well, good for her. She’s down that way.” The woman turns and points to the area from which she came. “Left when you hit the end and then all the way down that hallway. Last door on the right.”

I offer her a chagrined smile, knowing there must have been talk while Sloane and I were away. They announced her wedding to Sterling in the newspaper. Her colleagues would have known—maybe they even know him.

“Thanks.” I nod my head and pass the woman, sensing her gaze on me as I head down the hallway. Backstage is a flurry of activity. Dancers are everywhere in the hallways, laughing and chatting. I hear the pop of a champagne bottle as they unwind for a Christmas break.

Turning left, I feel the tug. The pull to Sloane. After years of denying myself the pleasure of her proximity, my body has lost all patience with me and desperately wants to be close to her.

My knuckles rap against the door labeled with Sugarplum Fairy.

“Just a second!” Sloane’s voice only ratchets up the tension in my body, and when she finally swings the door open, I’m on her.

My hand lands on her throat, my lips crashing against hers as I tower over her. She tenses momentarily, clearly caught by surprise, but it doesn’t take her long to catch up. Her hands slide up the arms of my suit jacket as I walk her backward into the dressing room, kicking the door shut behind us.

I turn her instantly, shoving her up against the wall beside the door. Because we’re just not getting any further than this right now.

She looked too good. There were too many eyes on her. More than just mine. And I’m feeling a little untethered and a lot territorial.

“Hi, Jas,” she huffs out playfully against my lips, but all I offer back is a low growl as I take her mouth again. My hands slide into the thin cotton robe she has wrapped around her slender body. After a few wellplaced tugs, it’s gone, pooling at her feet on the floor where it belongs.

“You were perfect,” I breathe, gaze raking over her. Wide eyes and heaving chest. Flimsy bodysuit over tights. Slippers off. Ornate costume gone.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” I thumb the thin strap of her bodysuit before tugging it down, letting it hang off her toned arm. “You stole the show. Every eye in the house was on you.”

She laughs, and my thumb shoots up to press against her lips, silencing her. “I’m not joking. Everyone was staring at what’s mine.”

Her mouth pops open under the pad of my thumb. I smile and tilt my head into her neck, running the tip of my nose up the sloping curve. “And now I want to take it back. Remind you who you belong to.”

She lets out a small gasp as I drop to my knees in front of her, jerk the bodysuit to the side, and use my fingers to rip a hole in the flimsy tights.

I push a finger in and her pussy clenches in surprise.

She’s not ready yet, but she will be.

I tear the hole open wider and then tug one leg up over my shoulder, watching her spread for me as she whimpers and drops her fingers into my hair. I dive in with one long, slow lick. She squirms against my tongue.

“Who does this belong to, Sloane?”

“You, you, you,” she chants breathlessly, and when I glance up, she’s tossed her head back in ecstasy. Already so fucking gone for me.

Me.

I lift her opposite leg to my shoulder so she’s straddling my face as I push her into the wall—one hand splayed across her stomach to hold her in place, and the other wrapped around her right thigh, fingers digging in hard.

I make a feast of her against that wall. I start off slowly, licking her up each side and then straight through her center. Hitting everywhere except her clit. Getting off on teasing her and feeling her writhe against me as she desperately tries to shift her hips so I hit that spot.

But I don’t give in. I taste her arousal building, feel the tension in the way her legs clamp around my body. I drag my hand down and slide two fingers into her. They go so fucking easy now. I’ve got a front row seat for the second time tonight. Her tight little pussy parts and squeezes around my digits as I scissor them inside her under the bright lights of her dressing room.

Wetness leaks out, making a fucking mess of us.

“Jasper.” She moans. “More. Please.”

“So fucking polite,” I murmur back, glancing up to see her watching me with shiny, heavy eyes. My fingers brush over her clit, and she jolts around me. “So tight and ready and needy for me. And you danced so fucking pretty for everyone. I think you deserve more tonight, don’t you?”