my legs around his head.
He moved his head so agonizingly close that his lips
must have only just been missing me—the thickness of
a butterfly’s wing, a soap bubble….
“....under the ice you’re just burning. You’re molten. You
don’t let anyone see it but you’re aching for someone to
take you and strip you and give you a good. Long.
Fucking.”
I felt the tip of his tongue part my folds. I just had time
to open my eyes wide before his whole tongue speared
up into me, hot and determined, spreading my slickened
walls wide. He didn’t stop until his lips were pressed
hard against me, the strength of him such that he could
actually rise on his knees a little and lift me, forcing me
to go up en pointe for a second. The pleasure was
rippling out in hot, fierce waves, rebounding and
concentrating, building towards a climax.
His hands went to my ass. At first, his fingers were
gentle, rubbing in slow circles as his tongue began to
thrust. But as he started to speed up, his hands grew
firmer, squeezing my cheeks, kneading my flesh with
just the right roughness. I began to suck in air through
my clenched teeth. I let go of the barre and my palms
slapped against the cool surface of the mirror.
Then his mouth moved to my clit, sucking it gently into
his mouth and lashing it with his tongue. The waves of
pleasure rolled in faster and faster, building quicker than
I could keep up with. My head rocked back, my pinned-
up hair brushing the mirror behind me as I arched my
back. I’m going to—going to—
He slid one hand up my body to capture my breast, his
thumb stroking back and forth across my nipple, and I
began to silently shake my head, my hair swishing
across the mirror. When he began to lightly pinch the
raised bud, I moaned out loud, the sound echoing
around the huge room. He took two fingers of his other
hand and buried them in me, sliding them deep, and my
moan rose towards the ceiling as my control slipping
away. I could feel my orgasm swollen and ready inside
me, sucking in all rational thought and destroying it.
But instead of going fast, he moved those hard, thick
fingers slowww. His tongue stopped flicking over my
clit. My eyes flew open in horror.
I looked down into brown and amber eyes that
reminded me of smoldering coals. Oh God. He wants
me to—
Three quick breaths. Three slow pumps of his fingers
before the lust overcame my shyness. “Do it!” I groaned
low in my throat. “Please!”
Those gorgeous lips twisted into a filthy smirk...and he
sped back up, his fingers stroking deep, his tongue
circling faster and faster. He kept his eyes open, looking
up the length of my body to my face, and I stared back
down at him. The orgasm expanded again, growing
bigger and tighter, every muscle in my body tensing in
readiness, the pleasure turning from pink to scarlet to
darkest black. I’d never felt so gloriously out of control.
And then it exploded, the pleasure rushing through me,
my hips grinding and circling, pushing my groin towards
his face. He met every movement, his tongue quick and
expert, his fingers carrying me through wave after
wave, until my legs weakened and started to give.
Instantly his hands were under my ass, supporting me,
and as he stood he lifted me into his arms. My whole
body was gleaming, my breath coming in long, shaky
gasps. It was almost a minute before I was able to
draw back and look at him.
He was looking at me with raw lust and...pride. He
knew, somehow, that he was the first man to ever
make me really let go like that, to be so lost in sex that
I’d beg for release. And even though I could feel my
cheeks flushing a little at what we’d just done, I felt
proud, too.
“Now,” he growled. “Let’s find somewhere to lie you
down because I need to—”
Whistling, from the corridor. Chyort! I could hear the
squeaky wheels of the janitor’s cart, too. I ran naked
across the room, legs still shaky and weak, grabbed my
leotard and starting scrambling into it. I was hooking
the second shoulder strap into place and Angelo was
tucking in his shirt when the janitor came through the
door. He said nothing, but gave us a knowing look. I
grabbed my bag and pulled a smirking Angelo from the
room.
In the hallway, he pushed me up against the wall,
planted his hands either side of me and kissed me slow
and deep, his body grinding against mine. The feel of
his cock, hot and hard under his pants, made me groan.
“My car’s outside,” he growled. “We can be at my
apartment in ten.”
I nodded. I wanted it as much as him. But something
was hammering on the outside of my post-orgasmic
bliss, something I wanted to ignore but knew I couldn’t.
“Wait,” I said. “I need to tell you something.”
He moved back a little and frowned, listening.
“I’ve been trying to talk to Vasiliy about peace. Mikhail,
too. Neither of them will listen.”
He nodded, as if unsurprised.
My chest tightened: the thing I hated most was the
inevitability of it all, both sides too set in their ways to
even consider change. “But I’ve been listening, too,” I
blurted. “And—” I bit my lip. Is this right? I couldn’t
figure it out. Whatever I did, I was betraying someone.
Angelo gripped my arms. “What?”
“If I tell you, you’ve got to promise me something.
You’ve got to promise you only use this to protect
yourself, not to attack.”
He gazed into my eyes for a long time and then nodded.
“Okay. I promise.”
I took a deep breath. “Vasiliy and Mikhail have paid off
the bikers your guys are meeting tonight.”
His eyes widened. ‘They’ve what? No! No way!”
“The bikers will turn on you and try to take you out.
With bratva to back them up.”
He shook his head slowly. I could see the hurt in his
eyes, the sick sense of betrayal. That’s what Vasiliy will
look like, if he ever finds out what I’ve done, I thought,
and the nausea rose inside me.
Angelo slammed his fist into the wall. “Damnit!” he
yelled, his voice echoing down the empty hallway. He
took three quick breaths and then slid his fingers and
thumbs down the lapels of his jacket, straightening
them. When he spoke again, his voice was level, but he
was frowning. “How did you find this out? Was it
Vasiliy?”
I’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that. I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Was it Mikhail?” His voice was tight with rage.
I tried to be emotionless and cold but I couldn’t, not
with him. I looked at the floor.
He slowly put his palms against the wall either side of
my head and leaned into me, forming a protective cage
around me. I could hear the pain in every single
syllable. He’d figured it out. “Did you...do something? To
get him to talk?”
I put a hand on his chest. “I did it to save you,” I
whispered.
I could feel the possessive rage building like a typhoon,
his muscles growing hard under my fingers. With any
other man, I would have been scared he was going to
hit me. Not with Angelo. All of his anger was directed at
the man who’d dared to touch me. His hand covered
mine. “Don’t ever do that again,” he told me.
I nodded. He leaned forward and kissed my forehead,
then gave me a long, tender kiss on the lips. His
forehead touched mine and we stayed like that for long