Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
She jerked back, opening her eyes. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I can’t—”
“You can. And you will.” I pulled away, taking her hand and walking toward the back of the studio. Stopping in front of the door that read, “Cariño,” in elegant handwriting on a silver plaque. She beamed up at me as I opened the door, revealing a private dressing room stocked with everything a ballerina could ever want. She stepped in slowly, turning in a full circle, in awe of the space. Running her hands along the armoire that held every piece of designer dancewear, nothing but the best for her. Grabbing her dance bag I’d replaced from the accident, I handed it to her.
“It has everything you need.” I kissed her soft, supple lips. “Go.” Spanking her ass. “Now.”
I walked away, getting the controller to the sound system. She still hadn’t fucking moved as if her feet were stuck to the floor beneath her.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting, cariño.”
She took a deep, reassuring breath, placing one foot in front of the other as if she was telling herself to do so. Making my way out to the studio, I pulled up a chair. I sat down, leaning forward, placing my elbows on my legs with my hands clasped in front of me. Waiting for her to emerge minutes later.
She took my goddamn breath away. She was dressed in a light pink, low cut leotard that accentuated her breasts. Her hard nipples poking through the skintight fabric while her luscious ass peeked out the bottom. Foregoing the bra and tights, wearing leg warmers instead.
My cock fucking twitched at the sight of her.
She stretched for a while on the barre as I watched the way her body bent, curved, and twisted in all directions like she hadn’t been away at all. Her leotard riding up, exposing more of her bare skin. I didn’t give her time to contemplate her next thought, hitting play on the controller. She laughed to herself, peering at me through the mirror when the melody registered in her head.
Our eyes locked.
The song she played in my office the first time she came to see me, the very same song she danced to the day I went looking for her in Europe, blared through the speakers. In a way, we’d come full circle. No words needed to be spoken between us, to have the same exact thought.
She walked over to the barre, flawlessly extending her right leg out to the side, gently placing her ankle on the polished wood. Reaching her left arm up in the air and bringing her torso down to her knee, holding the stretch. Repeating the same movement with her left leg. Never breaking eye contact with me through the mirror. She held onto the barre with her left hand, grabbing her ankle with her right, effortlessly pulling it toward her chest as her leg extended forward. Perfectly standing on one leg. She had the longest, goddamn legs I’d ever seen.
After stretching, she started to dance for me. Her body twirled, her arms soared, and her feet glided in all directions of the room within seconds. From one end to the other, there wasn’t a spot on the wooden floor her ballet flats didn’t touch. She was so in sync with the music, the dancing, the heart and soul of her entire life. Forgetting I was watching her, getting lost in her element, pushing herself further and further. If you hadn’t known about her accident, you’d think she never stopped dancing.
The song was nearly over when she stumbled, but faultlessly recovered, taking ahold of her ankle behind her, stretching her knee and thigh muscles. Working out the kinks that built up over the last year. I could see the sheer disappointment passing through her eyes, as much as she tried to hide it by continuing her steps. Frustrated that her leg had already given out on her.
I paused the song that I had on repeat.
“Go stretch again, cariño,” I ordered in a dominant tone. Nodding to the barre.
“I’m fine,” she stubbornly replied. Shaking her legs and arms out. Getting back into position, looking at me through the mirror.
I cocked my head to the side, arching an eyebrow. She narrowed her eyes at me, but begrudgingly listened. I pressed play, allowing the melody to once again take over. She placed her leg on the lowest barre, making her ass stick out in my direction.
Tempting me.
She closed her eyes, needing to get lost in the music, wanting to push away all the negative thoughts, already feeling discouraged. I stood, taking off my suit jacket. Rolling up the sleeves of my collared shirt as I stepped onto the hardwood floor. I slowly came up behind her, catching her off guard.
She froze, turning around, opening her eyes. Peering up at me through her lashes. “What are you doing?”