27. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Cyrus

T he sight in front of me, my mate naked on the floor, steals my breath and stops my heart. Can a man die from too much beauty?

The lights flicker, a warning about the end of intermission. I ignore them, ignore everything. When I took Finley against the window this afternoon, it was fast and aggressive, full of six years of pent up frustration. But right now, all I want to do is savor her. Savor this moment.

I stand, and Finley lifts on her elbows, confused. With a smile, I walk to the door, making a low whistle in the back of my throat that only other dragons will hear. Violeta is here as a guard and answers almost immediately. "Be sure no one bothers us. Not for any reason."

She bows her head, and I shut the door again. Normally, I don't mind an audience. I even like getting caught like we did this morning, but I don't want Finley getting kicked out of the ballet. I want to bring her back in the future, especially since she won't see much of the second act.

Staying in the shadows, I kneel over my beautiful, naked mate and slowly unbutton my dress shirt, laying it on the back of the chair. Finley's gaze travels down my chest to the top of my pants. I work myself out of them, along with my black boxer briefs. Kicking away the clothes, I stroke myself—not that it's needed. I've never been this hard before. But I want to enjoy the sight of her for a moment.

I contemplate rubbing my shaft until I spill myself all over her belly, wanting to see her covered in my cum. There are so many things I want to do with her. I've had six years to think about all of them. The list I gave her barely scratched the surface. My mind races through each depraved fantasy, but the only one that sticks is the simplest of all.

I want to make love to her. Plain vanilla, adoring love. Right here at the ballet.

Settling myself between her thighs, I kiss her tempting lips. The lips that have taunted me for far too long. She tastes like cinnamon, with a hint of musky cum from when she swallowed my release like she couldn't get enough.

The lights go out, the music starts, but neither of us move to watch the show. My eyes meet hers, my cock notched at her entrance. I hold there, lingering on the feel of my tip stretching her tight lips. I don't move away, don't move closer, just stay still. Savoring every microscopic movement, every breath, every expression on her face.

"I…" I almost tell her I love her, but I can't bring myself to say the words aloud, too afraid she won't believe me after how I pushed her away. It was necessary, but she still doesn't understand that.

No, she's not ready to hear me say it. But I can show her.

With my gaze locked on hers, I slowly ease inside. Our bodies rock and sway, a glide of perfect harmony, each thrust deeper than the one before.

The music is soft and romantic, the lights low, the balcony shadowed. All that exists is us.

She moves against me. I move against her. So soft. So stunning. She feels so damn good. Wet and perfect and tight, enveloping me in an embrace I never want to end.

Our kisses are silent words and breathless promises. Our movements, our own dance. We make love until the audience gives a standing ovation, and then we come together. One perfect moment alone with my mate before I tell the world she's mine.