Chapter 46 - Nadia

I changed into yoga pants and a long-sleeved Underarmor shirt. It was chilly outside, but that should keep me warm enough once I was moving around. I climbed out my window and then up the rusty fire escape to the roof. Even in the daytime, the view of the city from here was breathtaking. I stood there and stared for at least a full minute before my awe diminished to a manageable degree.
Dorian was right: the roof did make for a great practice stage. The building footprint of the townhouse was long and slender, just like the stage. It was even the same rough size. The only thing keeping it from being perfect was the boxy air conditioning unit on stage left, but I could work around that. This was much better than picturing my steps in my head while sitting on the edge of my bed.
I plugged in my headphones, selected the right song from The Proposition soundtrack on my phone that had been given to the cast, and got to work.
I went over More Than Money, the first song for tonight’s rehearsal, three times. My track as the backup dancer, which didn’t have a lot of movement and had zero lines, but I still wanted to nail them. Then I did the next song for tonight, Through the Window, several times through; it was more complicated and with a longer track for the backup dancers. I was moving around the stage almost the entire time, which was why More Than Money had so little movement: as a breather before the tough song. I was sweating through my clothes after 30 minutes on that song.
Then, for good measure, I decided to do the entire show up to that point. All 14 songs, starting from the beginning and working my way through the ones we would practice tonight. It was my own little dress rehearsal, and it was a wakeup call: I was tired by the end. I needed to find a way to squeeze in some time on the treadmill or bicycle to get my cardio up before the show in two weeks.
Now that I don’t commute for several hours a day, I can find the time to exercise.
I sat on the edge of the roof and took a breather, then glanced at my watch. I still had a lot of time left.
So I took a break to eat lunch and drink some water, then decided to work on Tatiana’s parts. It was better practice since it involved both movement and singing, not to mention more fun. Outside with the sounds of the city all around me, I was able to sing at a moderate volume without feeling like everyone could hear me. Even though there were a million people who could look down on the roof of the upper east side townhouse, it felt like I had some privacy.
With my own little make-believe stage, I went through every single one of Tatiana’s songs once (with breaks in between to catch my breath), then did tonight’s two songs multiple times. A small part of me hoped that someone would leak the sandbag trap and note to Tatiana, and she would refuse to rehearse tonight, giving me a chance to shine in front of the journalist. I wanted to be ready to step in and crush the songs—especially the solo in More Than Money—if that happened.
So many things were up in the air in my life. Fear of the saboteur, even though he wasn’t targeting me specifically. Excitement at kicking my relationships with Andy and Ryan up a notch last night. Concern about ruining my friendship with Dorian. And the impending dinner with Braden’s parents, and what it might mean for my relationship with him.
Throwing myself into my work on the roof helped distract me from it all. When the music played in my ears and I moved around the roof, sliding and swirling and leaping like I was weightless, everything else in the world dimmed to nothing. They were minor things.
The stage was all that mattered.
When my thighs were tired and my throat was all but spent, I finally unplugged my earphones and went back down the fire escape. I showered all the sweat off me, changed into new yoga pants, and then went into the kitchen for a snack. Even after eating lunch, I was famished. Dancing on the roof was hard work.
I found Ryan making a sandwich in the kitchen, tossing an empty deli container into the trash while scowling.
“Did Braden strike again?” I asked.
“Every damn time. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I always am.” He put the rest of his sandwich together, slid it into a zip-lock, and packed it away in a bag.
“Where are you going?”
“To the theater,” he said.
I looked at my watch. “This early?”
“Andy’s already there. I want to check everything a few more times before rehearsal. And go over the footage in case something happened while we were gone.”
“I thought it has motion sensing,” I replied. “To notify you when it detects something during certain hours?”
“It does, but I don’t trust it yet. So I want to double check.”
I chuckled to myself. Ryan believed in ghosts, Bigfoot, and leprechauns, but technology he was skeptical of.
I eyed the handsome redhead. All of his muscles were on display underneath his tank top, with veins practically bulging out everywhere I looked. He must have just gotten done exercising too.
Through the dining room, I could see Braden out in the garden practicing his lines. And Dorian was still out. We had the townhouse to ourselves.
“You sure you want to go to the theater that early?” I asked casually. “I’m sure Andy has it taken care of.”
“You seem awfully intent on keeping me from going to work.” He narrowed his eyes at me.” It’s because you’re the saboteur, isn’t it? I should’ve known.”
“Or,” I said seductively, “it’s because I want you to take me upstairs and stick that cock in my ass.”
His eyes sparkled as he studied my face. “You think you’re ready for that?”
“Only one way to find out.”
As we raced upstairs, Ryan smacked my ass from behind to make me move faster. We’d left the lube in his room, so we closed the door and fell on his bed like two teenagers leaping into a pool.
I tried to kiss him, and he pushed my head away. He waggled a finger in front of my face. “Nuh uh. Remember our rule about kissing.”
“You kissed me last night, thereby nullifying any and all rules to the agreement.”
“That was different,” he said, face very close to mine. I could smell mint on his breath. “I was caught up in the moment. Andy kissed you, and I couldn’t let myself be upstaged by that loser.”
I tried leaning in again, but he held me back playfully. “So you’re saying a threesome is more sensual than individual sex?” I asked.
A mischievous grin split his face. “I’m saying I don’t want to kiss you… on the lips.”
I yelped as he flipped me over on my belly, and then pulled down my yoga pants and panties. He practically ripped them off me, then gripped my ass cheeks with both hands and spread them apart.
And then he dove face-first into my ass.
I cried out with surprise and then deep pleasure as his tongue invaded my rear entrance, wedging it open as he buried it within my tight outer ring. It undulated up and down in waves, the tip flicking inside of me in a sensuality that I’d never experienced before. An all-new erogenous zone was being explored, and it was better than any other I’d felt.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded in a rough voice.
“Eat my ass,” I moaned into the pillow. “I want you to eat my ass.”
“Fucking right.”
He tongue-punched my rear-end, face completely buried in my ass cheeks, until I was squirming on the bed. When I thought I couldn’t take any more of the wonderful pleasure he relented and reached into his bedside table drawer and came out with a small bottle of lube.
“You came prepared, huh?” I crooned.
“Like a fuckin’ boy scout.”
I loved watching my partners prepare to fuck me, but when I twisted to watch Ryan lube himself up he planted a hand on the back of my head and pushed me down into the pillow.
“You don’t get to watch,” he growled in a teasing, playful tone. “Your my fuck toy right now.”
The way he was taking charge made me moan into the pillow. He was stronger than me. More muscular than me. And he was going to do whatever he wanted to my body while I lay spread-eagle on my belly.
I listened to the sound of the lube bottle opening, and then the gentle sound of him squirting it onto his hand before stroking his cock. Then his fingers slid up my crack and around my little rosebud, fingertips coating my ring and gently sliding inside, spreading the lube around. I was shocked at how easily his fingers fit.
“God, that’s a tight little asshole,” he rumbled above me. On his knees, he shifted his legs to spread my knees wider as he approached me from behind, fingers still twisting. “Do you want me to fuck it?”
“Mmm hmm,” I moaned into the pillow.
I felt the head of his cock press against my tight ring. Slick flesh on slick flesh, I relaxed and it slid inside easily until the ridge of the head was past the obstruction. I sighed at the sensation; there was a different sort of pressure, but it was erotic in wonderful new ways.
“It’s tighter than I thought,” he said. “I’m gonna have to go slow.”
I lifted my head off the pillow to say, “Not too slow.”
“Oh yeah?” He pushed deeper. “I’m going to fuck you as slowly as I please.”
His taunts added a heightened level of pleasure. I reached down and underneath to touch myself, rubbing my pussy lips in a circle, not yet acknowledging my clit. Easing into the sensation.
Ryan’s cock was massive. He could insert another two inches before it became too wide for someone as inexperienced as me. Maybe with more training I could take all of it in my ass. But not tonight.
Tonight was for experimenting. Enjoying it for the first time.
Ryan let out a long, slow groan as he grabbed my hips for leverage. I twisted to sneak a peek; the chiseled redhead had all of his muscles flexing while he pumped into my ass, a soft sheen of sweat making his strength stand out. The intensity in his eyes was powerful. Like a drug had been injected into his veins.
“Nadia, this is going to be a problem,” he said without stopping.
My fingers paused on my lower lips. “Problem?”
“A big problem. I can’t go back to fucking your pussy after having a taste of this.”
I moved my fingers to my clit and resumed rubbing myself. “I always knew you were an ass man.”
“Me too, but goddamn…”
His hands gripped my waist so tight it was almost painful. Right on the edge, just like the anal sex itself, but riding that line of pleasure and pain was what made it so erotic. Ryan fucked me faster and faster, breaking his rule about going slow, but I was too close to my own climax to call him out on it.
Ryan began grunting with each stroke. “I. Love. Fucking. That. Tight. Ass!”
The last word turned into a longer moan, and then my orgasm hit me like a hurricane wind, sudden and ragged and tearing the roof off. Ryan pushed his cock as deep into my ass as he could—another inch, up to about half of his full length—and then trembled as he filled me with his come, a huge load of it deep inside my rear end.
When we both stopped panting, I twisted around and said, “That was awfully fast.”
“Can you blame me?” he growled with a sly smile. “You’re lucky I lasted as long as I did. That was fucking tight.”
“My virgin ass is no longer virgin,” I mused while relaxing into the comforter. He ran his hands over my back in a long caress.
“I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Then we’ll have to do it again, won’t we?” I said.
“Hell fucking yeah.” He gave my ass a final smack. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to focus at the theater with that memory in my head.”
“We’ll both just have to try.”
I leaned up to kiss him on the lips, then pulled away with a wink that left him wanting more.