Chapter 5: A Performance for Themselves

The cool air of the studio kissed Claire's skin as her jeans pooled around her ankles, but the chill was nothing compared to the heat in Zane's eyes as he looked up at her. His hands rested on her thighs, thumbs tracing small circles that sent shivers of anticipation through her entire body.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice rough with reverence and desire. "So fucking beautiful."

Claire's breath caught at the raw honesty in his tone. This wasn't Jack speaking to Fiona anymore—this was Zane, on his knees before her, looking at her like she was something precious and perfect.

"The script," she managed to say, though her voice was already breathless. "We should follow the script."

Zane's lips curved in a smile that was equal parts wicked and tender. "Which part? Where Jack tells Fiona how much he wants to taste her? Or where he actually does it?"

"Both," Claire whispered, her hands tightening in his hair. "All of it."

The omnidirectional microphone captured every word, every catch of breath, every soft sound of skin against skin as Zane's hands moved higher on her thighs. They were creating something unprecedented—a performance that was entirely real, entirely theirs.

"'I've been dreaming about this,'" Zane said, slipping back into Jack's voice but keeping his eyes locked on Claire's. "'About how you'll taste, how you'll sound when I make you come.'"

Claire's knees nearly buckled at the combination of his words and the way his breath ghosted over her sensitive skin. "Zane," she gasped.

"Stay in character," he murmured, his lips brushing against her inner thigh. "What does Fiona say?"

Claire fumbled for her lines, her mind hazy with desire. "'Please, Jack. I need you to—'" Her words broke off in a moan as Zane's mouth found the soft skin just above her knee.

"Need me to what?" he asked, his voice muffled against her leg.

"Touch me," Claire breathed, and she wasn't sure if she was speaking as Fiona or herself anymore. "I need you to touch me."

Zane's hands slid higher, fingers hooking in the lace edge of her panties. "Here?" he asked, his thumb brushing over the damp fabric.

Claire's head fell back against the wall, a soft cry escaping her lips. "Yes. There. Please."

The sound of her desperation seemed to snap something in Zane. His professional restraint crumbled completely as he pressed his mouth to her through the thin lace, his tongue tracing patterns that made her entire body tremble.

"Oh God," Claire gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. The sensation was overwhelming, made more intense by the knowledge that every sound was being recorded, that this moment of complete abandon was being captured forever.

"You taste incredible," Zane said against her, his voice rough with desire. "Even better than I imagined."

His fingers found the edge of her panties, slowly sliding them down her legs until she was completely bare to him. The vulnerability should have been terrifying, but instead it was intoxicating. She felt powerful and desired and completely alive.

"The script says Jack makes Fiona come with his mouth," Claire said, her voice shaking with need. "But it doesn't say exactly how."

Zane looked up at her, his green eyes dark with hunger. "Then I guess we'll have to improvise."

What followed was unlike anything Claire had ever experienced. Zane's mouth on her was reverent and demanding, gentle and fierce, following no script but the rhythm of her responses. He seemed to learn her body instinctively, finding spots that made her gasp and cry out, building her pleasure with an expertise that left her trembling.

"That's it," he murmured against her, his voice vibrating through her core. "Let me hear you. Let the microphone hear how good this feels."

Claire's hands fisted in his hair, holding him against her as waves of sensation crashed over her. She was dimly aware of the sounds she was making—gasps and moans and whispered pleas that had nothing to do with any script and everything to do with the man between her legs.

"Zane," she cried out, her body arching against the wall. "I'm so close."

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice rough with his own desire. "Come on my tongue, Claire. Let me taste you falling apart."

The words pushed her over the edge. Claire's orgasm hit her like a lightning strike, pleasure radiating through every nerve ending until she was shaking with the force of it. She cried out his name—not Jack's, but Zane's—her voice echoing in the small studio space.

Zane worked her through it, his mouth gentle now, helping her ride out every aftershock until she was boneless against the wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were wet with her arousal, his eyes dark with satisfaction and barely contained need. Claire looked down at him, still trembling from her climax, and felt a fresh wave of desire at the sight of him on his knees before her.

"That was..." she started, but couldn't find words to finish.

"Perfect," Zane said, rising to his feet. His movements were careful, controlled, but Claire could see the tension in every line of his body. The bulge in his jeans was prominent, impossible to ignore.

"The scene continues," Claire said softly, her eyes dropping to his obvious arousal. "Fiona returns the favor."

Zane's breath caught. "Claire, you don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, her hands already moving to the button of his jeans. "I want to taste you too."

The admission hung between them, raw and honest. Zane's hands covered hers, stilling her movements.

"If you do this," he said, his voice rough with barely contained desire, "I won't be able to stop. I won't be able to pretend this is just for the recording."

Claire looked up at him, seeing her own need reflected in his eyes. "Good," she said simply. "I don't want you to stop. I don't want to pretend anymore."

Something shifted in Zane's expression, the last of his control cracking. His hands moved from hers to cup her face, and he kissed her deeply, desperately, letting her taste herself on his lips.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Claire sank to her knees in front of him. The position was a mirror of what had just happened, but the dynamic felt different—she was in control now, and Zane was at her mercy.

"Tell me what you want," she said, her hands moving to his belt.

"You," Zane said simply. "Just you."

Claire made quick work of his belt and jeans, pushing them down until his erection sprang free. He was impressive, hard and thick and already slick with arousal, and the sight of him made her mouth water.

"'Jack is so hard for Fiona,'" she said, quoting from the script but keeping her eyes on Zane's face. "'She can see how much he wants her.'"

"'She takes him in her mouth,'" Zane continued, his voice strained, "'and he loses his mind.'"

Claire smiled, wrapping her hand around his length. The sound he made—a low, desperate groan—sent heat pooling between her legs all over again.

"Is this how the scene goes?" she asked innocently, stroking him slowly.

"Fuck, Claire," Zane gasped, his hands fisting at his sides. "You're going to kill me."

"That's not an answer," she teased, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his tip.

Zane's response was a string of creative profanity that definitely wasn't in any romance novel. Claire laughed, delighted by his loss of composure, and took him fully into her mouth.

The taste of him was intoxicating—salt and heat and something uniquely masculine. She worked him with her mouth and tongue, following the cues of his body, the way his breath hitched when she did something he particularly liked.

"Claire," he groaned, his hands finally coming up to tangle in her hair. "God, your mouth..."

She pulled back just enough to speak. "Tell me how it feels," she said, her voice husky. "For the recording."

The reminder that they were still being captured by the microphone seemed to inflame him further. "It feels incredible," he said, his voice rough with honesty. "Your mouth is so hot, so perfect. I've been dreaming about this since the first day."

Claire rewarded his honesty by taking him deeper, until he was hitting the back of her throat. Zane's control shattered completely, a low moan escaping him that was pure, unfiltered pleasure.

"I'm not going to last," he warned, his voice strained. "Claire, I'm—"

She pulled back, releasing him with a soft pop that made him groan. "Not yet," she said, rising to her feet. "The scene isn't over."

Zane stared at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his erection standing proud between them. "What comes next?"

Claire smiled, pressing herself against him until she could feel his hardness against her stomach. "The grand finale," she said softly. "Jack takes Fiona against the wall. Hard and fast and desperate."

Zane's eyes darkened. "Is that what you want?"

"That's exactly what I want," Claire said, her voice clear and sure. "I want you to fuck me, Zane. Right here, right now, with the microphone recording every sound we make."

The crude words seemed to flip a switch in Zane. His hands gripped her waist, lifting her effortlessly until her legs wrapped around his hips. Claire gasped at the sudden movement, at the feeling of his arousal pressed intimately against her.

"You're sure?" he asked, even as his body trembled with the effort of restraint.

"I've never been more sure of anything," Claire said, and meant it.

That was all the permission Zane needed. With one smooth thrust, he buried himself inside her, both of them crying out at the sensation. Claire's head fell back against the wall, overwhelmed by the feeling of fullness, of completion.

"Fuck," Zane groaned, his forehead pressed against hers. "You feel so good. So perfect."

They moved together, finding a rhythm that was desperate and needy and absolutely real. This wasn't acting anymore—this was pure desire, pure need, captured in all its raw honesty by the waiting microphone.

"Harder," Claire gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you harder."

Zane complied, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. The sound of skin against skin filled the studio, mixed with their gasps and moans and whispered encouragements.

"Is this what you wanted?" Zane asked, his voice rough with exertion. "Is this how you imagined it?"

"Better," Claire managed to say. "So much better."

They were both close, she could feel it in the tension of his body, in the way her own pleasure was building toward another peak. The knowledge that they were being recorded, that this moment of complete abandon was being captured forever, only made it more intense.

"Come with me," Zane said, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. "I want to feel you come around me."

The combination of his words and his touch pushed Claire over the edge for the second time. She cried out his name as her orgasm crashed over her, her body clenching around him in waves of pleasure.

Zane followed her over, his own climax hitting him with devastating force. He buried his face in her neck, muffling his groan against her skin as he emptied himself inside her.

They stayed like that for long moments afterward, both breathing hard, still intimately connected. The studio was quiet except for the soft hum of equipment and their gradually slowing breaths.

Finally, Zane pulled back to look at her, his eyes soft with satisfaction and something deeper. "That was..." he started.

"A hell of a performance," Claire finished, smiling up at him.

They both laughed, the sound mixing together in the small space. Whatever happened next, whatever this meant for their professional relationship, Claire knew she would never regret this moment.

They had created something real, something beautiful, something that would be preserved forever in digital format. And despite everything, she couldn't wait to hear how it sounded on playback.