He drops the check, hands in the air as if I’ve raised a gun.

The air is tense as I open my purse, pull out my wallet, and fish for a credit card to give to the server. It’s a motion I go through often enough. But with Ian sitting there, watching me, it feels somehow… dirty.

In our world, gender roles are fairly solid. I’m an outlier in that I’m a daughter who wants to work as hard as the men in her family and can pay her own way – and pay for her dates. Most of the women guys like Ian date are either too poor to even think about it, or they’re coming from that state of mind that says “men for everything.” I don’t like it when men pay for me. Not if I can afford it.

Like I said. He’s taking me to the symphony. That makes us even.

Except I need him to stop looking at me like that. As if I’ve insulted him and threatened his masculinity.

We leave, disconnected thanks to trying to keep a low profile from people who may recognize us… and because the feeling between us has changed. We’re no longer flirty. He doesn’t act like he’s itching to touch me as we get into a cab. In fact, we’re pretty quiet as the taxi rolls down the street and takes us to the concert hall on the other side of town.

The show has already started when we arrive. The usher recognizes Ian and escorts us to the private balcony right away. My family was never much into music. I was the strange child buying up CDs and then MP3s later on. So, unlike the Mathers, we don’t have anything named after us here. Sometimes even this rich bitch can have a new thrill.

The balcony is small. Seats maybe five people. So it’s plenty cozy for two people sitting next to one another and enjoying the darkness as the lights focus on the orchestra below.

The moment I sit down, I feel Ian’s hands on me. He touches me under the guise of removing my coat, but his hands linger – right on my breasts, his mouth in my ear.

“When we’re done here, we’re going back to my place. I have plans for you.”

Bristling, I decide to play his coy game. “Sit your ass down, Mathers. I’ve got plans for you first.”

Chapter 4

KATHRYN

This is the most talented orchestra in the region, and the conductor has won several awards over the years. In fact, he’s so famous that he headlines the entire event.

I don’t care.

I only care about Ian.

He’s even more handsome in this lack of light. There are a couple of nightlights on the ground so we can see our way in and out of the balcony, but for the most part it’s so dark that I can barely make out his profile in the shadows. Something mysterious surrounds him, and I realize it’s that I can’t tell what he’s thinking if I can’t see his expressions.

This is a date, Kathryn. You don’t have to keep your hands to yourself.

If we were a sweet couple, I would hold his hand. Except I gotta admit the thought of holding his hand makes me laugh. Who am I? Some doe-eyed virgin?

No. Hell no.

At first I feel no reaction as I slip my hand between his legs and feel his thighs. His trousers are hot, full of his body heat and so luxurious that I get caught up in the feel of fabric as opposed to my mission at, uh, hand.

Namely grazing my fingers against his cock, which isn’t erect… yet.

“Kathryn,” he mutters, loud enough for me to hear above the music. “This is a fancy place. What you’re doing does not carry a lot of propriety.”

I curl my hand around his cock, feeling it harden in my hand. If only he could see the grin on my face.

“Fuck propriety,” I coo into his ear. “I’m on a date with a handsome man and want to spoil him. Doesn’t he want me to spoil him?”

“I’m supposed to be doing the spoiling.”

“You’re not supposed to be doing anything.” My fingers find his zipper and lower it before he can protest. He’s definitely not protesting when I feel the length of his erect cock. “Besides enjoying yourself.”

“That can certainly be arranged.”

This isn’t my first time giving a guy a handjob in a theater or concert hall. When I was younger – too young to get into places like The Dark Hour – the best way to get a guy off outside of the house was to find a dark abode and get a mutual fingering. In fact, I learned most of my oral skills in dark places like this.

Currently I’m content to watch him and the orchestra – and to feel his thick cock in my grip as I massage his length and pinch my fingers over his tip. He tenses and relaxes, his hand rubbing my knee beneath the hem of my dress.

“Did you know that the conductor has performed in over fifty different countries?” That factoid comes from a poster down in the lobby.

“Hush,” Ian says, gravel in his throat.

“Now, don’t be a Dom, remember?”

“I don’t tell you to the shut the hell up as a Dom. I tell you to be quiet as a man listening to music and getting a handjob.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be quiet,” I tease. “Maybe I want to constantly remind you that I’m here.”

“You know what would shut you up?”

“Indeed I do.” I hold my grip on him, pushing my ass back to the side of my seat as I toss my hair out of the way and lower my head toward his lap. He wants me to shut up? I need to find other ways to keep my mouth preoccupied.

I’m glad we’re not playing kinky games. Not our kind of kinky games, since I’m sure many vanilla people would find what I’m doing plenty kinky. Ha. They have no idea.

But those kinky games? They would make me feel uncomfortable at the moment. Especially after what happened the last time I gave this man a blowjob. In private.

I don’t worry about him pushing me off him so he can come on me, let alone my face. I don’t worry about that because he’s assured me over and over that tonight isn’t about domination and submission. It’s about what feels right. Right now? This feels so fucking right.

Ian’s tip is wide. In fact, it’s one of the widest parts of his cock, which is so delightful that it gives me trembles thinking of him fucking me between the legs. That initial point of penetration always makes me cry out the loudest. All those nerve endings right around my opening… ah, I’m squirming in my seat!

His hand strokes the top of my head before gently tugging on my hair. He’s not pulling it. He’s not being a Dom. Like he said, he’s being a man getting a blowjob.

Good.

My lips tease his tip, my tongue tasting precum. The more I take into my mouth, the more I try not to smile – naturally, as my teeth graze his skin as I promised they would a while ago. So many shivers rip through him, my hair pulling against my scalp beneath the pressure of his grip. Right now, my only thoughts are on Ian’s cock, which is slipping nicely down my throat, past my relaxed gag.

I’ve sucked thick cocks before. Best part about male subs is that most of them are packing. (If they’re not, they want to make sure I tell them they’re not. Different strokes for different folks, even in the kink world.) Yet Ian’s is different. Of course it’s different! Why would it be like anyone else’s? What I mean is that it fills my mouth in such a unique way. His strong scent relaxes my mind and makes me hunger for more. His sack feels so nice beneath my fingers, and they dig to find it within his trousers.

Let me tell you how satisfying it is to ease my mouth off him, to feel my puckered lips kiss his tip before parting to take him in again. Quiet groans of approval filter into my ear as Ian learns to sit back and enjoy it. However, I know he’ll only last so long.

I look forward to destroying him in this balcony.

Soon. It’s definitely on its way. The man probably hasn’t come yet today, and here I am, blowing him away with everything I’ve learned over the years. I up my tempo, swallowing him, pulling off him, sucking on the head of his cock while jerking his shaft. My teeth tug at his flesh; his hands tighten on my shoulder and scalp. Pretty soon, Ian’s thrusting upward, fucking my lips, my mouth, my throat. Precum spreads across my tongue.