“That bracelet you have on,” Alec says and I look down at my bare arm. I’m wearing short sleeves tonight and the bracelet is dimly glittering against my skin. “Did your parents give it to you?”
I twirl the small jewelry answering softly, “Trevor did. For my birthday.”
Looking up I nearly stagger at the look in Alec’s eyes and for the first time tonight I feel tempted to run. He must’ve noticed my apprehension because he quickly smiles. But his smile is dangerous, carnivorous though the danger is not directed towards me but to someone else...
Slightly lifting his arm, he waves me over with a flick of his hand. He wants me to come over to him. I do, standing before him and he bends forward a little. “Let me see,” he says in a low voice, his strong fingers brushing over the bracelet and I let out a yelp when he breaks it in two.
“Oh gosh, you broke it,” I gasp but he doesn’t look ashamed.
“I don’t want you to wear it. It doesn’t go with the necklace.” He tosses the separate strands of the bracelet nonchalantly to the side, while I gawk.
His eyes turn focused.
“The clock is ticking,” he leans back on the couch, spreading his legs and it’s a dominant move requiring submission. “Tick, tock. Time to dance, little ballerina.”
I nod, shuddering a little when Swan Lake starts playing in the room after he presses a button on a remote. I’ve done this many times. Danced, I mean, though I’ve never quite danced like this or before a man like Alec.
“Just d...dance, right?” I say, trying to read the look on his face.
“Just dance,” Alec nods, before his eyes flash and he hands me a card he’s been holding up his sleeve, “only you will do it naked.”
10
Alec
Those hazel eyes of hers widen in shock.She carries the whole world in them. My world and right now I inwardly curse myself for not thinking this through. How the hell am I supposed to keep my distance, sit here and not put my hands on her while she undresses for me?
It is not going to be easy and for a second I close my eyes in anguish and when I open them she is already tugging at her top. It is white with short puffed-up sleeves, making her look like she still believes in fairy tales.
I can’t breathe while I watch her, surprised that she didn’t protest and she kicks off her heels. Now she stands so small that a need to protect her flares in me. I cannot ever let her out on the street again.
Knowing my name isn’t enough anymore. I need to make her mine. Only when she’s mine, will she be fully protected.
Next she removes her stockings, next her flaring, silky skirt and I let out a groan at the sight of her thighs, at the little triangle of the satiny material between them. With lowered eyes, she takes off her top and I catch the outline of her nipples beneath the flimsiness off her bra.
Her hands tremble when they go to the back, towards the clasp and I’m thinking that if she hesitates, I’m not going to insist but she doesn’t, letting her breasts free.
I let out a growl, sharply looking away to not attack those small mounds with my mouth. She flinches and I realize my voice must have been loud and I grind my jaw, to not curse like that again.
When her fingers move to her panties, I sharpen my gaze, leaning forward and my skin pains me from how much I need to touch her. I want to save her from me and at the same time I want to conquer her. Plunder and ravage any type of resistance she has toward me.
Blood goes to her cheeks and she lets out a low gasp when she unhooks her panties, slowly letting them slide down her hips and I lean my head back in fever at how perfect she is, at her smooth, supple little slit.
I don’t know how but I’m determined to rip it open with my tongue and have her taste flood my palate. I want to drown in her. Have her drown in me. And when she wants to breathe, I will be the one providing her with air. Nobody else.
With her whole body looking like its blushing, she glances at me and then she starts to move. I choke on something the minute she does. Lust? Admiration? Adoration? Maybe all of it at once. Her hair swishes down the small of her back as she dances, the muscles on her back and her arms strengthening under her frail skin. I stare at her ass, small and shapely, the cheeks no bigger than two apples...
I would gladly die in the same Siberian prison that I was born in only to have her buttocks roll over my crotch. I want to squeeze it, massage and pump it until the sweet emulsion hiding in her slit starts pouring out.
As she twirls in quick circles, I watch her firm tits bow and jolt and I put my hands on my knees, forcing myself not to do this. I was only going to watch. Nothing else. Enjoy her like this. But me trying to control myself, does little to curb my erection.
It is pounding so much because of her, that it makes me nauseated, makes the whole room spin. I don’t think I will be able to last and I unbuckle my pants, only to adjust myself. The plan was to do it quickly, discreetly but Lyla catches me mid act and she pants at the sight of me.
I freeze, not moving my hand but she doesn’t stop dancing. Instead her eyes are misty, her breathing rapid and if I listen closely I can hear the small whimpers, she lets out every time the diamonds on her necklace lash against her nipples.
The peaks of her breasts are the same soft bubblegum color as her lips, swollen and distended and my teeth ache for a nibble. Still not moving my hand, I’m planning to forcefully pull it away when her head drops in a small nod.
Frowning, I wonder whether I imagined but I don’t do a double take, shoving my hand down my pants and groan in relief. As my vision and mind slightly clears, I’m about to tell Lyla not to look if she is sensitive around these matters but instead she doesn’t seem to be able to keep her eyes off me.