After that, I’m racing back down the hall and into the ballroom, to find Doralee sitting quietly, counting to herself as she taps a single key on the piano with each second she counts. “Fifty-five. Fifty-six—” She stops and smiles, still leaning against the baby grand where I left her, looking as enticing as ever.
I don’t waste any time or words. I kiss her hard and her tongue is sweet and silky against mine as my hands drop to her ass, hoisting her in one easy motion onto the piano.
Growling into our kiss, I shove her dress up her thighs, feeling the softness of her skin as I rut my hips between her legs, pulling her to the edge of the piano and letting her feel what she’s doing to me.
My cock grows as the heat between her legs warms my pulsing length, and I feel her moan into our kiss as I move our bodies together, nearly cumming in my pants at the knowledge there are only a few layers of fabric between us.
I break our kiss, watching her eyes as I grind my cock into her hot pussy, but I can’t stand it any longer.
“Has anyone ever touched you like this? Has anyone ever touched you, or kissed you, or—”
She shakes her head, and the panic that gripped my throat only a moment ago is doused by a wave of relief that nearly buckles my knees.
Her hands come to my cheeks and I swear she’s looking so deep inside of me she’s finding things I didn’t even know were there. Seeing things I didn’t know I wanted until tonight.
Until Doralee.
“You’re confused.” She bites her bottom lip as I swallow, trying to gather some control. “I’m sorry, am I confusing you?”
I shake my head. Then nod, and now it’s her that looks confused.
“Yes. And No.” I draw a breath. “I’m more sure about things than I have been in a long time, but at the same time, I can’t believe this is real. That you’re real. It all feels like a dream. Are we dreaming, Doralee Hinson? Are you just a dream?”
She pulls a shoulder upward on a half shrug. “Maybe. You never know, life might all be a dream. Maybe none of this is real.”
“Then I never want to wake up.” Music floats down the hallway and I want to feel her move against me. “Let me help you down, I want to dance with you. Just the two of us, alone here.”
As I place her feet back on the ground, her hand flies out to grab the edge of the piano and her eyes flutter, her body looking like it’s wilting.
“What’s wrong?” I dart my hands forward, catching her around the waist and I’m immediately angry again. I can feel her bones, the jagged hardness pressing into my palms, and I see close up how her collarbones and sternum show through her perfect, smooth skin.
“I’m sorry.” Her other hand grips my arm like she’s falling, and I want to save her from anything and everything. “I’m just a little lightheaded.”
I know this industry. I’ve been around models and actresses and women in general, who do the most diabolical things to their bodies under the guise of beauty.
“Did you get something to eat from the buffet?”
She shakes her head harder than is necessary, fear covering her face, and I know already what she needs.
“Hold on.” I slip one hand from her waist, retrieving my phone from my pocket, and dial one of my security detail that are milling with the people at the party. “I want the waitstaff to bring a sampling of everything on the buffet line. And some water, orange juice, apple juice… I want it right fucking now, in the ballroom.” I pause as he repeats my instructions back, then a question. “Yes, the empty ballroom behind the red ropes, and they better have it here in the next sixty seconds, or everyone is going to be looking for new jobs.”
I click off and shove the phone back in my pocket, hating that it took her nearly passing out to get her next to me like this.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak? Not everything can be done as soon as you snap your fingers.” She shakes her head. “Besides, I’m really okay. I’m not hungry.”
It makes me furious that she thinks she has to look like this. If she’s thin, that’s great, some people are naturally that way and can out eat even me. But to starve herself for this? No fucking way.
Not on my watch.
“Uh huh. Tell me what you ate last and when.” I challenge, even as my cock throbs and nearly fights its way out of my black pants to get at her.
She pauses, looking at the floor, then the wall, and finally opens her mouth to answer, but I know whatever is about to come out is bullshit. And she must see the fury in my eyes, because she tugs her lips to the side and shrugs.