What I neglected to share with Sascha that she was now learning very rapidly, was that this particular Cirque du Soleil show specialized in exploring sexuality. The performers did their sets to different genres of music to display how sex in music transcends type of music and that it’s at the core of everyone’s thought process. Different scenes depicted hard sex, soft sex, bondage and BDSM and intimate expression without sex. I’d been to the show before, so I was used to the highly sexual nature of the show, but Sascha kept shifting and pressing her legs together; she was aroused.

Instead of immediately getting back in the car after the show, I took her by the hand and we walked to a small cafe nearby. I hadn’t been there before myself, but it seemed like it had perfect items for a stimulating conversation. We grabbed a table when we entered and ordered sandwiches and coffee; simple and sophisticated.

“So, what are your thoughts?” I asked, taking a drink of my coffee.

“Someone had some repressed sexual energy,” she replied and I nearly spit out my drink.

“Repressed? That’s what you got from that?” I asked. “It was obviously about someone’s extravagant and illustrious sexual journey.”

She shook her head. “All those moments where things were just nearing the end and then the scene would suddenly change. Obviously this person had often dreamed of having many sexual experiences they never got to have. They could only dream of what they were like and never actually knew, so there were no endings to any of those experiences.”

I sat staring at her in silence for a moment. I was far more in her crosshairs than I originally thought. I could lose myself in her. “Hm.”

She laughed. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” I asked.

“Don’t be upset that you’re wrong,” she spat.

I gasped. “I’m no such thing.”

“Please. I knew it the moment I met you, you don’t like to be wrong,” she explained.

I took a breath. I had to concede. “You’re, perhaps, not far off.” She smiled and I returned the gesture. “I’m sorry for all of that by the way. I know I come off as a douchebag. I promise I’m a good guy, I just appreciate accuracy, efficiency and, yes, being right. But I give respect as it’s earned. I think that’s fair.”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

Suddenly, a blush rose to her face. I tilted my head to the side. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, just thinking more about the performance,” she explained.

Now she was in my crosshairs. “And?”

“Well, to be honest. It made me kind of horny,” she replied with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Is that right?” I responded. “Well, I wonder what we can do about that?”

I didn’t remember paying the bill. I didn’t remember leaving the cafe. I didn’t remember driving. The only thing I knew was that I had Sascha pressed up against the huge bay window in my loft overlooking Las Vegas and was smoothing my hands over her bare skin. Her dress was a thing of the past, and I was laying soft kisses across her back. Her breath hitched as I pinched a bit of her skin between my teeth, but followed it with a lick. I, myself, was shirtless and admiring her beauty against the Vegas skyline.

“You’re so beautiful,” I commented.

“I feel so exposed,” she replied.

I kissed her shoulder blade. “Do you dislike it?” I asked.

I ran a hand over her ass, reveling in the smoothness of her skin in my hand. I caressed ever lower until I could cup under and start to poke my finger at her opening. She let out a yip and I used my other hand to work the only remaining article of my clothing, my pants, off of my body. I wrapped a hand under Sascha’s chin and tipped her head back to rest against my shoulder. I kissed her and hugged her close, setting my unsheathed dick against her pussy.

“I want you,” she murmured at me, and it was delightful that she was a woman who wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted.

“And I want you, sexy,” Ryland replied, “but let us not rush this.”

I pulled one of her arms behind her and moved it to grip my dick. She did exactly as she was told and started to stroke it, the position allowing my head to poke at her entrance while she stroked. I reached my hand around and placed a couple of fingers on top of her clit and started to rub. I moved in slow, intense circles, enough to tease her, but not enough to make her orgasm just yet.

“That feels so good,” she sang in my ear. “Don’t stop.”

I kissed her cheek and then nibbled the cartilage of her ear. “As you wish.”

I was amused, not annoyed when Sascha’s hold on my cock started to loosen. Her hips started to rock back and forth, drenching my shaft and her own hand in her juices and she started to whine as she came. I let my eyes dance over her bare reflection in the window, watching her chest rise and fall. I’d done a masterful job up to that point keeping myself at bay, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to have her.

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