But my image of some stranger is weak, and my mind fills it in with the details of Nicolo’s proud face, his strong, stubbled jaw, and his dark curly hair. My skin tingles with his phantom touch, reminding me of how his fingers explored my body.
In the dark bedroom of his family home at the high school party, he’d fingered me as he kissed me, and I mirror that same tantalizing touch that left me quivering. I can still remember the sensation of his hips spreading my legs as his soft naked flesh pressed against mine. That moment before he entered me, when his cockhead aligned with my entrance, had sent my heart racing.
The first thrust had been painful, making me cry out as my body tensed against the sharp, overwhelming sensation of his cock filling me so completely, but as he started to ease in and out of me, new excitement had taken over. He’d made me come twice as he fucked me, his lips and teeth caressing and biting all the most sensitive parts of my neck and face as he moved inside me.
I feel my body creeping toward release, and I finger myself more adamantly. Heart thrumming in my chest, I breathe more forcefully. Unable to stop the images of Nicolo’s perfect body on top of me as he pounded into my pussy, I give in to the lust driving me. A flood of sensations from that night consumes me–the salty tang of his sweat, the velvety softness of his chest brushing against my nipples with every thrust. The way he moaned as he got close to his own release.
The memory of him jerking forcefully from my pussy to shoot cum all over my breasts and face launches me into ecstasy. As I reach the pinnacle of my excitement, the ghost of Nicolo’s cologne fills my mind, the sound of his voice as he leaned in to whisper in my ear. My body seems completely devoid of shame as I topple over the edge, orgasming to the memory of Nicolo saying my name.
I shiver from the relief that washes through me even as tears spring to my eyes.What is wrong with me that I can orgasm to the memory of my night with Nicolo Marchetti?I hate that I thought of him before coming. I hate that the degrading way he just treated me turned me on. It’s humiliating to think my aggressor, the bully who’s been treating me like shit for weeks, could excite me into touching myself in the middle of school.
Withdrawing my hand from my pussy, I straighten my outfit and go to the sink to wash my hands. In the mirror, I find a faint pink glow staining my cheeks, reminding me of how I just fingered myself to the thought of Nicolo fucking me.
Burning shame roils in my belly as I make my way back to class and find an empty seat just as the lecture begins. Intensely aware of the snickers coming from the chairs behind me, where Nicolo and his friends sit, I try to keep my gaze locked toward the front of the class. Even so, a hot blush creeps up the back of my neck, and I sincerely hope my shameful arousal isn’t obvious to anyone but me.
11
ANYA
Shaking out my arms, I pace nervously backstage. I can’t believe how quickly the first month of school has flown by, and I’m not ready for this moment. It’s come far too soon. This is it, the autumn showcase, my moment to shine or bring my performance down in a burning ball of flames. And since Whitney told me that the Marchetti's fund this showcase and are most likely in the audience today, my anxiety has only increased. My entire scholarship might be riding on this performance. If I can’t deliver, that might be the end to my dream of becoming a ballerina. If Nicolo happens to be watching, I imagine he will take every opportunity to trash-talk me to his family. So I have no room for mistakes.
“We’re going to be great,” Fin says for what must be the tenth time since we arrived. He dips into another stretch, ensuring he’s as limber as can be.
But I can feel the tension roiling off of him. He’s just as nervous as I am, though for a different reason. It’s his senior year. This is his last opportunity to catch the scouts’ attention right from the starting gates. And if he can’t do it now, they might not give him a second chance at the next showcase.
“We’re going to do great,” I echo, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of cold cement and dust that clings to the velvet curtains and overwhelms the area behind the stage. I do my best to ignore the panic in the air, the cold, imposing vastness of the theater’s stage. Sliding into the splits, I lie forward onto my leading leg, reminding my hips to relax and release the tension there. I stretch both sides equally, then rise once more to reach over my head, extending my lats. With every motion, I draw in a deep breath and slowly release it, trying to expel my anxiety.
Through the split in the curtain, Paige’s bleach-blonde hair catches my eye as she twirls in place. Clasping my fingers behind my back and extending my locked palms upward, I stretch my chest as I step forward to peek between the velvet drapes to watch Paige and her partner on stage.
They chose a classic piece fromCoppeliaand are moving gracefully across the floor. It’s nice to see them working well together. From Paige’s report, she’s been struggling to get her partner to cooperate about how many hours they train. I feel lucky once more that Professor Moriari happened to pair me with Fin. When it comes to determination, he and I are quite good at matching each other.
I can see the slight disconnect between Paige and her partner, spots where she extends too quickly, and he’s not quite ready to stabilize her. But they manage well, considering how little time we’ve had to prepare these performances. With another few months, I bet they could make a strong team for the winter showcase–if Paige wants to continue working with her partner.
Whitney’s approach redirects my gaze, and I admire her form-fitting emerald outfit. It sparkles as she stands next to me, catching the light filtering back toward us from the stage. She looks stunning in her performance leotard, a much more eye-catching display than my simple black leotard and matching tutu. At least I’ve done up my hair and makeup in an artistic fashion to mimic the namesake animal for my performance. Feathers frame my temples in the shape of a crown, and my eyeshadow is dark and dramatic. Meanwhile, Fin looks quite dapper in his princely white outfit and product-tamed black hair.
“How’s she look?” Whitney whispers, gripping the curtains to improve her view of Paige’s performance.
I open my mouth to say ‘well’ just as Paige comes down from her lift with an audible thump. Not the worst thing in the world, seeing as the scouts probably can’t hear over the music, but a landing like that doesn’t look nearly as pretty as one would hope. I can see the frustration written on Paige’s face as she tries to keep her composure. If I had to guess, she’s pissed at her partner.
Air hisses between our teeth as Whitney, and I both take in a pained breath.
“Ugh, I can’t watch,” Whitney breathes. “It makes me too nervous.”
I agree, stepping away from the side of the stage to stand next to Fin once more. My hands tremble uncontrollably as I face the biggest performance of mine to date. No pressure or anything, but this may make or break my future in dance. It most likely will do so for Fin.
“We’re–”
“Please don’t say we’re going to be great,” I beg.
Fin releases a breathy laugh. “Sorry.”
I give him a nervous smile. “Don’t be. I’m sure you’re right. I just can’t hear you say it one more time.”
Fin nods and silently zips his lip before throwing away the key. Thank God humor is his go-to. A small, cathartic giggle bursts from me. Then I hear the notes coming to the end of Paige’s number. We’re next. I feel like I might vomit the second I walk on stage.
“Break a leg,” Whitney says with a smile as she stretches near her partner.
“Anya, Fin.” Professor Moriari waves us toward the stage from where he stands beside our entrance.