Her walls constrict further around me, alerting me to her impending orgasm until I’m having to shove forcefully every time I enter her. A victorious smile spreads across my face as Anya’s hips buck back into me. She’s lost all sense of resistance as her body demands release, and I oblige her. Curling my fingers around her hips, I angle her enough that my balls slap her clit with each thrust.
A desperate sob bursts from her as she orgasms violently, pussy juice gushing out around my cock and coating her thighs. Even as she pulses around my length, I reach forward and grip her wrists. Wrenching her arms behind her back, I pin her hands between her sexy back dimples and pull out of her pussy.
Then, using her own arousal as lube, I line my cockhead up with her tightly puckered ass and shove forcefully inside her asshole. Even with how slick my cock is from being inside her pussy, Anya’s ass is incredibly tight, and I’m sure no one’s ever fucked her here before. She screams, her back arching convulsively off the table as I penetrate her.
It turns me on so fucking much to know I’m the only one who’s ever been inside her ass, and I want to teach her a lesson for trying to make me feel bad about who I am and what I’m born to do. I love knowing I can cause her pain when she keeps giving me resistance and sullen defiance, and I’m so close to coming, I can’t help but pound inside her. Fucking her ass hard, I quickly find my own release and explode inside her, releasing burst after burst of cum as I fill her up until it’s oozing back out around my cock.
My hips jerk spastically with the intensity of my release. Finally, I slow to a stop, buried deep up her ass. Chest heaving, I realize I’m holding her wrists so tightly that her fingers have started to turn purple. I release her, letting my hands rest gently on the pinkened globes of her ass, each of which holds my handprint.
“Fuck, Anya,” I breathe as my ears ring from all the blood leaving my head to fill my cock.
She doesn’t respond as she sprawls limply across the pool table, trembling. One hand reaches forward to brush her cheek, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s wiping tears from her face. As it dawns on me that she’s not trembling, she’s crying. A stab of guilt pierces my gut.Maybe I took it too far.
I shove the thought roughly aside. Anya’s my pet, a new toy to play with as I please. She’s miles beneath me, and I shouldn’t feel bad about using her for my pleasure. She agreed to this, and she, more than anyone, should know I’m not some simpering mama’s boy that’s going to feel bad for needing a good hard fuck sometimes.
Pulling out of her unceremoniously, I stalk away from her to find my clothes, ready for the night to be over now that it feels thoroughly spoiled. “Get dressed and get the fuck out,” I bark. “My driver can take you home.”
Yanking on my pants without bothering to put on my boxers or shirt, I slump onto the couch, fuming over the whole shitty night. I watch Anya from the corner of my eye as she pushes up off the table shakily and walks unsteadily toward the open space where she deposited her clothes.
Stepping into her undies and quickly clasping her bra, Anya doesn’t waste time putting herself in order. She pulls her stunning sequin dress back over her head even as she heads toward the door, her sniffles the only sound in the deafening silence. A burst of club music fills the room as she flees and then diminishes as she closes the door behind her.
“Fuck,” I groan, letting my head drop back against the couch as I close my eyes. That did not go like I’d imagined.
23
ANYA
“Hold, hold!” Professor Moriari shouts as I lock my elbow in place and brace against Robbie’s shoulder, my opposite foot poised high in the air as he attempts to keep me aloft.
I feel his supporting arm start to tremble as he fails to lock his elbow in place before my momentum stops. Rather than pausing at the height of my leap, I begin to sink back toward the studio mats, and Robbie scrambles to catch my hips with both hands to stop me from landing too hard.
“You have to push her!” Professor Moriari scolds, stepping closer. “She can’t do the lift all by herself!” he adds as my feet touch down with surprising lightness.
Despite the frustration in my professor’s tone, I’m actually quite impressed with the progress we’ve made. This is one of our most challenging lifts, one I was certain I would have to take out of the routine, and still, Robbie’s determined to practice it in the hopes that he can get it. We still have over a month until the winter showcase, and I actually think we just might get it done in that time.
“Yes, sir,” Robbie breathes heavily, his head sinking with dejection.
Moriari moves on to the next pair of students who are there after school for some extra feedback on their routine, like we are, without waiting for us to try again.
“Don’t feel bad,” I reassure Robbie, patting his shoulder. “You’re improving immensely, and even when you couldn’t manage the lift, you set me down very gently. You’re definitely getting stronger.”
“Really?” Robbie perks up enthusiastically.
“Absolutely.” I flash him a smile, grateful for his determination and gentle nature, which so starkly contrasts Nicolo’s mercurial temperament. After this weekend, I feel exhausted, bogged down from the emotional war waging within me after our night at the club.
“Thanks, Anya,” he breathes, a wide smile breaking across his face and revealing his boyish dimples. His eyes glance behind my shoulder to the clock hanging high on the wall. “I hate to say it, but I’ve got to head out. Eye appointment, remember?”
“Pshh. What could possibly be important about an eye appointment when we should be practicing our dance routine?” I tease as I follow him over to the cubbies to collect our stuff.
“I see your point,” Robbie says, catching me by surprise. “But I probably won’t be able to next week when I run out of contacts.”
I can’t help but laugh at the cheesy joke. It feels good to have a moment of levity when I spend so much of my time now stressing over my situation and how I can possibly change it. My arrangement with Nicolo has challenged me morally in so many ways: I’m lying to my aunt about having a part-time job so she doesn’t question why I need her to watch Clara so often; I haven’t spent proper time with my daughter in weeks, and I’m all but condoning his violent behavior by giving in to his demands. Still, I can’t bring myself to fight him when I know he might hurt someone else because of it. I feel like a caged animal with no means of escape except for when I dance and these rare moments of laughter with my friends.
“I just don’t get it,” Paige says as she changes out her shoes after practice as well.
“Get what?” Robbie asks.
“How you can stand to dance with Anya when she not only sells herself to a criminal to live the good life but also seems to enjoy siccing that criminal on her dance partners for entertainment,” Paige smirks at me, her lips pursing at the look of shock on Robbie’s face.