Phantom (Tattered Curtain Series)

Scarlett

The view from box five is completely different from the theater stage. I have to admit, I love this one a lot more, despite the fact my very own demon of music keeps distracting me, not even letting me enjoy the show. Or maybe I love it so much because of the way he’s distracting me.

I’m sitting just inside the shadows of the box watching the Bordeaux Conservatory perform Roméo et Juliette, with my thighs spread wide and my legs draped over my brand-new fiancé’s shoulders. He doesn’t bother with the mask or the navy prosthetic when it’s just the two of us and I love looking at his face while he drives me wild. The dim lights flicker over his scars and the clear acrylic eye, making them shine iridescent, like the diamond he just slipped on my finger without asking.

“You’re mine, ma jolie petite muse. My mark etched into your skin promises me forever, but this ring will tell the world.”

“I’m yours,” I’d replied, right before he lifted the skirt of my black satin dress and swirled his tongue through the arousal already flooding my core. Not wearing panties was absolutely the right decision. All the sneaky touches he’d given me throughout the show so far had built up my desire, and I was more than willing and ready.

The diamond skull glitters on my ring finger as I clutch the armrests and sink lower into the velvet cushion. I’m chasing that peak, trying not to make any sudden movements or show my pleasure. If Sol figures out I’m coming this way, he’ll stop. He swore earlier that my first orgasm of the night will be on his cock, not his tongue, but if I have my way…

The orchestra strikes up and I allow myself a little moan that can’t be heard over the melody, but my demon leaves my center and stands immediately, making me groan in frustration.

He picks me up and sets me on his thighs so I’m facing the stage before he unzips himself. His hard length brushes against my ass as it pops out from its confines. I lift myself up on the armrest and slide my soaked entrance over his cock until he grabs my upper thighs and pushes all the way into me in one swift stroke.

He doesn’t stop to let me adjust. We both know we don’t have time. Instead, he drives upward in his seat as soon as the soprano starts singing, making the chair creak underneath us. Sol spreads my legs obscenely, hooking them over his wide-open thighs. One arm wraps around my waist and massages my clit with two fingers as he pumps his cock in and out.

I do my best to ride him, but he keeps me still, licking his fingers before playing with my nipple through the thin fabric over my breasts. My lower belly begins to tense and my inner muscles squeeze tight, ready to combust. Slowly, my back begins to arch against him and my toes curl, pushing my feet off of the ground. The few inches up gives him more room to pump into my core. His arm leaves my waist and grabs on to my hip. His fingers caress the brand he’s so obsessed with.

Weeks after he marked me, I found out from Maggie that I could have chosen simple jewelry, like she did, but I’d just laughed at her suggestion. Of course my demon would never let me get off that easy. And I wouldn’t want to.

The part in the aria is only a few measures away, and Sol’s thrusts grow harsher. We are loud, but the orchestra is louder… I hope. It’s not like anyone can kick Sol Bordeaux out of his own opera house.

My muscles are getting tighter and tighter as my clit flutters against his fingers, until finally Sol’s deep voice whispers roughly in my ear.

“Sing for me, my angel.”

I only have to wait one more measure for the soprano to hit her longest note before I let go.

Whatever high note my moan hits, I have no idea as I come in waves down the scale, my orgasm driving through me as Sol squeezes me and kisses my neck while caressing the skull on my hip and swirling around my clit.

“Yes, sing for me. Strangle my cock, belle muse. Tell the world you’re mine.”

He curses against my neck and digs his fingers into me while he comes. Spots form in my vision from the pleasure vibrating through my body as I cascade in my demon of music’s arms.

When we’re finally both spent, I sag against him. The orchestra finishes their final measure and the audience breaks out in applause. All the while, he holds me, caressing my inner thighs and stomach under my dress. I move to get up but he locks me in place with his arm up between my breasts and his hand on my neck. If he has it his way, he’ll soak his cock inside me for the remainder of the performance. He tilts my jaw so I can look at him through my sated eyes.

His midnight eye sparkles with hope that makes my chest expand.

“Do you think we did it that time, Scarlett?”

I smile and wrap my hand behind his head to tug his hair hard enough to pull him down to kiss me. He pulses inside my core, no doubt trying to make sure my pussy drinks him dry. It’s why he doesn’t let me orgasm until he’s coming at the same time. I got my birth control implant removed months ago, and he’s convinced us coming simultaneously is a surefire way to get me pregnant with his Bordeaux baby.

He might be onto something.

I break away from his warm lips and smile. “I hope so, my Sol.”

Both sides of his lips lift high now that the right side has gotten more used to smiling. A year of travel, singing and playing together on stages all over the world, and just being in love has given those previously unused muscles a workout.

It’s made me healthier too. Sticking to my routines and medicine while we’re on the road was a challenge at first, but we figured it out together, and I’ve been in remission for months.

He wraps his arms tighter around me to watch the rest of the show just like this with him nestled inside me. I almost want to tell him there’s no point.

But I have a plan.

For the first time, the Phantom of the French Quarter has been taking his vacation days. We’re mostly nomads at the moment, but we still use his old apartment every time we’re back in town. We’ll use the Prohibition tunnels to go down there so I can change, but then we’re attending the Masque after-party. While we’re there, we’ll meet Ben, Maggie, and Jaime for drinks like old times, and then I’ll perform for the rest of the night while Sol plays for me. It’ll be hard keeping the secret to myself for so long, especially when I get to look at him while he eye fucks me the entire show.

In the last song, our song, I’ve added new lyrics. It’ll be then that I tell him all his hard work has already paid off.

I’m pregnant with my demon of music’s baby. He’s my fiancé, and I’m living the life I’ve always dreamed of. Where happiness is just happiness and his darkness sings to mine.

I am his muse, and he is mine.

My Phantom of the French Quarter.

My demon of music.