Reasonable Doubt: Volume 3
Page 26

 Whitney G.

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
“All the time?”
“At least once a week.” I held the door open for her. “Twice when this particular play was performed.” I ran my fingers across the words, Death of a Salesman, before handing our tickets to the usher.
She smiled as he led us to the private balcony, as he offered us complimentary wine since we were so early.
“I would’ve never taken you for the drama type,” she said, taking a sip from her glass. “You’ve never mentioned that to me before.”
“I actually almost went to theater school instead of law school.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“A law degree attracts a higher percentage of pu**y.”
“What?!” She rolled her eyes, laughing. “I’m being serious.”
“I received a bigger scholarship for law school.” I resisted the urge to pull her into my lap. “Best decision I ever made.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but the lights began to dim and she leaned closer to me, whispering, “I would’ve liked to see you as an actor…I think you would’ve been really good at it.”
I felt her placing her hand on my thigh. “I don’t think I would’ve wanted to see you play anything serious though. I think I would prefer—”
“Are you going to talk through this entire play, Aubrey?” I cut her off, ignoring the tell-tale look on her face—the one of severe longing, needing.
“Am I not allowed to make comments?” She sounded offended. “Am I not allowed to do that until after dinner either? If that’s the case, why even take me out? Why would you even—”
“I’ve seen this play a million times…” I pressed my finger against her lips as the lead actor stepped onto the stage. “And although I want you to experience it too, if you would rather me entertain you in a different way, just tell me.”
“Would this balcony make it onto your list of approved places?” I asked. “If I f**ked you here, would that still count as me being a gentleman?”
Her eyes widened and she quickly moved her hand away from my lap. “I was just teasing you, Andrew…”
“I’m aware.” I kissed her neck. “And I’ve told you on numerous occasions that I don’t appreciate that, whether you’re mad at me or not…”
She sucked in a breath as I slid my thumb underneath her panties.
“I’ll stop asking questions,” she said. “I’ll watch the play…”
As she turned her face toward the stage, I moved out of my seat and kneeled in front of her.
“Andrew?” She whispered harshly as I spread her thighs apart. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you enjoy the show.”
I didn’t give her a chance to respond. I quickly ripped off her panties, and buried my head in between her legs, running my tongue against her bare pu**y—enjoying a taste I’d missed for months. I sucked her clit between my lips, shutting my eyes as it swelled in my mouth.
“Andrew….” She moaned as she squeezed her legs around my neck, grabbing onto my hair and begging me to slow down.
I couldn’t. She tasted too f**king good.
I forced my tongue deeper inside of her, claiming every part, marking what was mine.
Her hips began to rise off the seat, and I pushed them down—punishing her with stronger strokes, slipping my fingers inside of her and commanding her to stay still.
“I can’t…” She thrust her hips up again. “I can’t…”
A loud applause arose from the theater below us, echoing off the walls as the first scene ended.
I sucked her clit harder, darting my tongue against it repeatedly until she couldn’t help but scream my name across the theater.
Shaking, she grabbed my shoulders, gripping me harder than ever as she came into my mouth.
I held her thighs as she continued to shake, as tremor after tremor ran through her body.
As she came back down, I caressed her legs and kissed the inside of her thighs.
Grabbing her ripped panties off the floor, I wiped her clean. Then I stuffed them into my pocket before taking my seat again.
“Is something wrong sir?” An usher stepped into our balcony. “I heard a disturbance.”
“A disturbance?” I looked at Aubrey then back at him. “No, I don’t think there was one here.”
“Are you sure?” he asked concerned. “What about you, Miss? Are you okay?”
“Yes sir.” Aubrey nodded, attempting to look as normal as possible. “I’m more than fine.”
He walked away, and within seconds, she seemingly transformed into the Aubrey I remembered from months ago, the one that was incapable of not asking questions.
Not that I minded, though.
By the first intermission she’d asked all that was possible about the play and leaned against me, whispering, “This is perfect, Andrew…Thank you.” And then she didn’t speak again until the show ended two hours later.
“The lead was amazing,” she said as the curtains closed. “I really felt all of his emotions in that last scene…”
“Me too.” I helped her into her coat. “Do you have a curfew? Any time that I need to get you back home?”
“I’m twenty two years old.”
“I’m well aware.” I rolled my eyes. “I found that out the hard way, thank you. I meant, do you have a few more hours to spend with me or do you have to get up early?”
“Not until the afternoon…”
“Good.” I led her out of the theater and signaled to the town-car driver across the street. “I want to take you somewhere else. Can I?”
“I would love that…”
I helped her into the town car and after I slid inside, she moved into my lap—pressing her lips against mine, whispering thanks once again.
Holding her close, I gave her a brief tour of my past as we drove through the city—grateful that the driver avoided driving by my former firm.
I showed her my favorite restaurants, my favorite places to relax, and a few places I would like to take her to before I left.
“We’ve arrived at the Waldorf Astoria, Mr. Hamilton.” The driver looked at us through the rearview mirror. “Will this be the final stop for the night?”
“Yes,” I said, noticing Aubrey narrowing her eyes at me.
“I thought you said—”
“Relax…” I kissed her forehead. “This is where I’ve been living since I flew here.”
I took her hand and walked her through the lobby and onto the elevator that led to the roof.
Opening the doors, I noticed everything was set up exactly as I asked: A lone white clothed table sat in front of a dancing fire, soft lights hung in waves across the trellis, and through the falling snow, the words “I’m sorry” twinkled against the building directly across from us.
“This is so beautiful, Andrew…” she said, looking around. “When did you change your mind about dinner?”
“I didn’t.” I pulled out her chair and uncovered the platter of chocolate and vanilla covered strawberries. “It’s dessert.”