No one knew my ballerina as well as I did, and all she needed was a little nudge to finally realize this was what she wanted as well. If it wasn’t, she wouldn’t have come undone under my touch so easily. Pleasure was plastered on her face with every drop of sweat that beaded on her skin. And the way her walls throbbed around my dick as she orgasmed, it was all the proof I fucking needed. All those nights of watching her from afar, thinking about her, desiring her, longing to make her mine, it all came down to this fucking moment. The moment when my entire world shifted, and she became the biggest part of it.
Bemused and vivid, her sapphire blue eyes showed me her inner struggle, how her mind tried to convince her body not to find pleasure in my touch. It had to have been torture for her, fighting something that couldn’t be changed. And her being mine wasn’t something she could change, no matter how hard she tried. I wasn’t a man who believed in fate, but she was the closest I came to believing that maybe we didn’t have control over our own lives after all.
I looked down at her body beneath me. Her tits weren’t even close to the size of the palm of my hand, but her nipples were the most beautiful rosy pink. Delicate and fucking perfect. Pale white skin barely touched by sunlight was coated with a sheen of sweat—flawless, picturesque. Mine.
“You okay?”
Her slight nod made it obvious the war was still raging inside that pretty head of hers. She still wasn’t convinced this was right. That what we had just done was meant to happen. Well, I just had to convince her.
Getting off her, leaving this bed, wasn’t something I wanted to do. I was a selfish prick, and I wanted to fuck her again. And again. And again. She was mine. I owned her. But part of owning her was taking care of her.
Reluctantly, I got up and noticed the way she watched me. The wheels in her head were turning in every direction. She had to be confused as fuck right now, this being her first time and probably not what she expected it to be. Every girl dreamed of her first time being in a room scattered with rose petals, a fucking angel choir singing in the background while Prince Charming slowly and tenderly made love to her like she was a goddamn porcelain doll who could break.
Not me. I was no fucking Prince Charming. And this wasn’t a fairy tale. She needed to learn right off the bat that the world she came from and the world she was currently in could not be compared. In this world, nothing was what anyone expected. Learning the concept of “adapt or die” was something we needed to grasp early on in our lives. She needed to do the same, as this was her new world now.
I opened the closet doors which led to the mini bathroom, grabbed a towel, and placed it in the sink while running some hot water.
When I sat back down on the mattress, she sniffed, tears softly rolling down her cheeks.My sad, pretty ballerina.
I untied her legs, rubbing around her ankles where the ropes left their marks. “Turn on your side.”
Without hesitating, she did as she was told, turning her back to me. I’d never done this before, never taken care of a woman after sex, cleaning her. But she wasn’t just any woman. “Lift your leg.”
She did, and I softly placed the towel between her legs, gently cleaning her, careful not to hurt her further. “You’ll be sore for a while. But your body will get used to it…to me.”
“You plan on having sex with me again?”
“What kind of question is that?”
She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Isn’t that what you guys do? See women as conquests, and after you’ve had them, you toss them away?”
I pulled the towel from between her legs and grabbed her hip, forcing her on her back, and pinning her arms above her head.
“Listen to me very carefully.” I made sure she looked me in the eye. “If you think this was just a onetime fuck, think again. I’ve waited too fucking long for you, and now that I have you, not even the devil himself can take you from me.” I let go of one hand, softly tracing a finger around the contour of her face. “I plan on fucking you every day for the rest of my goddamn life. What don’t you understand when I say I own you?”
“You’ll grow tired of me.”
“Not a chance.”
“I’m not like the other girls. I’m not beautiful. I don’t have big breasts or a firm, round ass.”
“Stop.”
“I’m not your type, Granite.”
“What the fuck do you know about my type?”
Blue sapphires glistened under the candlelight as she looked up at me. “Are you telling me this is real? That I wasn’t just some twisted conquest for you?”
“As real as it gets, ballerina girl.” I placed my thumb on her bottom lip. “I’ll tell you what. Try to leave me and see what kind of hell I’ll raise in this motherfucking city. I’ll give new meaning to the Blood Brothers tag on my cut, I swear to God.”
Her gaze searched my face, trying to see if I was bluffing. “When?”
“When what?”
“When did you decide you wanted me? We’ve stared at each other countless nights. When was the moment you decided you’d take me?”
I kept her gaze for a few seconds longer before letting go of her, sitting up straight. “Like you said, there were countless nights. I can’t remember which one it was.”