all of me, lips working their way down my stomach and
over the dark hollow of my navel, down towards my
pelvis—
I was wearing thong panties under the leotard. Both of
us looked down as he reached the waistband—would he
leave them on or—
No. He rolled them down my body along with the
leotard. I felt the kiss of cool air against the sensitive
skin of my pubis, then through my curls of soft hair.
Then my leotard and panties fell to the floor and I stood
there naked and panting in the very center of the room.
For a second, he just looked at me, his eyes raking from
my face to my toes in long, slow sweeps. Then his
hands started to smooth over my body and I saw him
look off to the side. When I followed his gaze, I gasped.
We were reflected in the mirrored wall. A dancer, naked
save for her ballet shoes, her body utterly exposed,
even her hair pinned up out of the way to leave her
throat bare. Before her, her lover, his muscled body
obvious even through his suit, his strong chest rising
and falling as his hands swept over her.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to see the body I’d
been imagining.
My hands grabbed for the soft silk of his tie, suddenly
frantic. He gazed down at me, brown eyes tiger-bright,
as I loosened the knot and pulled it free. I leaned
forward to push his suit jacket back over his shoulders
and my naked breasts grazed his chest, making both of
us gasp.
The jacket slid down his arms, hitting the polished floor
with a soft kiss of expensive fabric. His arms...I couldn’t
stop looking at his arms. Men try to show off their
muscles in t-shirts and tank tops but Angelo’s sculpted
form was perfectly, effortlessly displayed by soft,
touchable cotton that flowed over every hard line. I
couldn’t stop myself: my hands went to his neck and
then traced their way down. His shoulders were so
wide, like he’d batter a hundred men out of the way to
get to you. His biceps stretched out the thin white
fabric, solid and warm under my fingers. His forearms,
as my fingertips trailed down them, were thickly hard
and ridged with veins—
I looked up into his eyes. We were breathing in sync,
both of us staring at the other as if they blamed them
for being so out of control. Then his hands were on my
ass, pulling me hard to him, and he kissed me long and
deep as my fingers started to work at the buttons of his
shirt. I had my eyes closed as I pushed each tiny, hard
disc through its hole. I had to imagine what I was
revealing as his shirt opened up, visions of dark ink and
tan skin exploding in my mind as his tongue danced
with mine.
I undid the last button and tugged the tails of his shirt
out of his pants. I had to see! I broke the kiss and
stepped back—
And gasped.
I’d stroked my fingers over his stomach enough times
that I knew the hardness there, knew each defined rise
and fall of his six pack. But I wasn’t ready for how the
sun lit up his tan skin like gold, or the raw power that
his abs suggested, the way they made me think of him
lunging and thrusting and pounding….
I’d slid my palms across his chest, felt those big, smooth
slabs of muscle that made him so solid...but I wasn’t
ready for the size of him, for how his chest filled my
vision, dwarfing me, or how those dark pink nipples
made me want to lick him there and make him groan.
What I really wasn’t ready for, though, was the tattoo.
I’d thought it was more than one, since the shadows
beneath his shirt seemed to cover him so completely. I’d
imagined a confusion of women’s names and symbols.
What I got instead was just one thing, simple and
beautiful and brutal.
A pair of angel wings, joined by a cross, had been
meticulously picked out across his chest, filling both of
those broadly curving pecs. Every feather was a work of
art: the wings seemed to live and move as he breathed,
the cross staying still and unshakeable between them.
Standing there in the sunlight, the rays streaming
through his outstretched shirt, he looked almost
otherworldly, an angel sent from heaven or helclass="underline" I
wasn’t sure which. He seemed to glow with a heat and
power that could melt me utterly. I looked up into his
eyes, awestruck….
And something in my expression tipped him over the
edge. He grabbed me around the waist and towed me
over to the mirror, almost lifting me off my feet. My ass
touched the smooth wood of the barre that ran
horizontally just in front of the mirror. “Open your legs,”
he told me.
I blinked. “What?”
He moved closer. “Open those gorgeous fucking legs,”
he said. “I’m going to do to you what I promised I
would, the first night we met.”
I slowly parted my thighs, my heart pounding in my
chest, and gripped the barre with both hands.
I’d never seen anyone kneel the way Angelo did. Other
men kneel and it’s an act of submission. He knelt the
way a king would kneel, back ramrod straight.
Somehow, he managed to not look any smaller. In fact,
the muscled bulk of him, those wide shoulders and
broad chest all moving slowly, deliberately between my
spread thighs...it made it feel like I was the one
submitting. His eyes didn’t say okay, I’ll do this for you.
They said, are you ready? Because I’m coming to get
you.
With the tip of his tongue, he licked slowly along my
inner thigh and I felt the pleasure surge and sing,
working its way upward towards my groin. He licked
along my other leg and I began to tremble, fingers tight
around the smooth wood of the barre. He looked up at
me and I stared back at him, his naked chest hypnotic
as it rose and fell beneath the open shirt. He moved
directly below my groin, his brown-amber eyes blazing
at me, his shining hair so richly black against my
skin...and he spoke.
His lips were maybe an inch from my lips so each
syllable buzzed and throbbed through them, his low
growl like the biggest bass speaker I’d ever felt. And
even as the sound of what he was saying hit from
below, the sense of it penetrated my brain and spiked
down to my groin in a black lightning bolt, the two
elements colliding to make me pant and writhe.
“You’re like something out of a dream,” he said. “And
guys like me don’t have dreams.” He took a long, slow
breath and I gasped as I felt the soft suction pull at me.
“When I first saw you, up on stage, I thought you were
magical. Queen of the fucking elves. Not meant to be
touched by mortal man. Well, I’m going to touch you.
You better believe I’m going to touch you. I’m going to
stroke and lick every inch of you until you’re begging,
screaming for me to let you come.”
I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter. I was
going to be soaked before his lips ever touched me.
“See, that’s what I love about you, Irina. You’re so cold.
You’re this ice princess, so strong and noble. But
underneath….”
He raised his mouth until it was only a half-inch from
my folds.
“...underneath, where it matters—”
He closed the distance again. A quarter inch away, no
more.
“...underneath all that ice—”
I was heaving for breath, now, eyes tight shut. I’d never
felt anything like the overwhelming pleasure from the
vibrations of his voice...it was everything I could do to
stop myself pressing down against his face and locking