by Holly Stone
He was right, I did want it. So much that I couldn’t keep still.
“Touch me,” I said. “Please.”
His hands slipped up the backs of my legs, hot and firm until they gripped the underside of my ass, his thumbs pressing between, making me widen my stance, pulling me open just enough to make me writhe. One hand moved, and then a finger trailed across my skin, following the edge of lace on my panties, skimming down the seam of my ass until I was weak at the knees, panting in anticipation. Fabric pushed aside, I could feel cool air against my wetness, but he didn’t touch me straight away, just inhaled again. I felt so vulnerable in that position with his face close to places that no one had ever kissed before, but I also felt worshipped. He was on his knees for me and it was that thought that was in my mind when his finger finally slipped between my folds.
“You’re so wet,” Dimitri murmured against my skin, finger probing the edges of my hole, and I could feel myself getting wetter, hotter and more desperate. He slid through the evidence of my arousal until the pad of his finger found my clit and I bucked against him, feeling so close to orgasm I was up on tiptoes for it. “Not yet.” He went to stand, kissing and licking up my spine as I arched into his touch, reaching round to cup my breasts, pinching my nipples again until I was almost frantic for more, for everything he could give me. “Turn around,” he whispered hot against my ear.
When I turned he was pulling his jumper off quickly, revealing what I had been salivating over each night I walked passed his posters at work. Dimitri was so broad across the chest, arms strong, pectorals and abdominals sharply defined, with skin so golden in the yellow light. “You’re perfect,” I said, running my hand from his collar bone across one of his dark, tight nipples, fascinated by his statuesque physique.
“Not perfect. Just flesh, bone and blood.”
“…and heart,” I whispered, kissing where his beat hard and fast in his chest.
“Take me out,” he said, nuzzling my hair. “Take me out and see what you did to me with your beautiful dance…with your poise and your courage.”
I bit my lip in anticipation, reaching out to unbuckle his belt, fingers fumbling fast with the button and zip to his jeans, trembling as I felt the warmth of him through the cotton of his boxers.
“That’s it…that’s it,” Dimitri said, sounding as desperate as I felt, then as my hand made contact with the heavy, pulsing heat of his cock I exhaled in a rush. It kicked in my hand and he grunted as I gripped him hard. I couldn’t take my eyes off the size of it but when he thrust into the circle of my fingers I looked up, catching the frantic desire in his half-closed eyes.
The dressing table was behind me and I sat back on the edge, drawing Dimitri with me by the waistband of his jeans. “I haven’t done this for a while,” I said, and he bent to kiss me, hard.
“I’ll be gentle…get you nice and ready,” he said against my lips. His hands gripped under my thighs and pushed my legs up until my heels were resting on the edge of the wood, knees spread wide. “I’ll lick you until you’re dripping, baby, open you with my fingers. I’ll make you feel so good you won’t be able to remember your own name.”
Dimitri pushed my knickers to the side and bent to lick a hot, wet stripe between my folds, pressing the point of his tongue against my clit.
“Oh fuck,” I said, as he licked and licked against me, moaning in this throat. I looked down at him, and saw his hand working as he jerked himself in time. The image was so visceral, so feverish I had to find a part of him to hold onto. When I grasped the side of his head, raising my pelvis into his mouth, he let go of himself and used his fingers to stroke between my legs. My pussy was pulsing, body shaking with the way he was making me feel and I was so ready that when he pushed one thick finger inside me it slid in all the way in without resistance.
“Fuck,” he muttered against me and pushed in another finger, pumping gently and curving upwards.
“More,” I moaned softly. “Harder.”
Dimitri pushed in another finger, meeting some resistance this time. He had pulled back to watch as half his hand disappeared inside me to the knuckle, to look at me as I thrust against his wet fingers, panting and groaning like a whore.
“You’re ready?” he asked, pulling his hand from me gently, leaving me empty. Still I felt fuller than I had in years.
“Yeah,” I said, gasping when he lifted me under my thighs and carried me to the bed. When I was lying on my back I wriggled out of my panties, watching as he removed his socks, jeans and boxers then crawled between my legs, clutching a shiny wrapper between his fingers.
He knelt up, sheathing himself, holding his cock as he looked down at me. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, running his hand from the side of my ribs, over my breast and stomach, mapping all the soft womanliness of me.
I pulled him by the wrist until he rested over me, lips hovering over mine. Dimitri kissed me deep, fucking my mouth with his tongue, a delicious taste of what was to come. His heavy cock rested against my belly, then he grasped it and ran it through my labia, circling my clit then nudging against my hole, making my hips rise up with desperation.
Dimitri didn’t enter me in a rush, instead pushed in slowly, inch by slow inch, letting my pussy stretch around him, relishing the resistance, until I was impaled, bone to bone, chest to chest, lips to lips. I was surrounded by the sexiest man I had ever seen in person, the strongest man I had touched. Dimitri Novikov, superstar illusionist and the gentlest lover I had ever known.
“You feel so good,” I said, cupping his cheek, pressing my thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue licked out and he thrust into me, driving me up the bed. “That’s it, that’s it.” I gripped onto his ass, feeling the working muscles, bring my legs up tightly around him.
“Can you come like this?” he asked, grinding against me and I shook my head.
“Not really, it’s hard,” I said feeling a little embarrassed and looking away. I had always struggled to orgasm through penetrative sex. Somehow my bits didn’t seem to match up to my partners, for whatever reason. Dimitri grasped my face, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“Tell me what makes you feel good,” he asked, his eyes serious but soft.
“This. Everything that you were doing,” I said.
He looked at me for a few seconds then kissed me again, slipping his hands under my back so he could hold me close, raising my hips so he could change the angle of our alignment. My body was buzzing with each hard thrust he made, the pull and push of his cock hitting the right spots but it wasn’t quite enough. As if he could read my thoughts he pushed up on his forearms and pulled out of me. He knelt up, holding his cock by the root, looking me over with a thoughtful expression as if he was formulating a plan.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I rolled over onto my hands and knees expecting for him to slip into me in that position but instead he pulled me back against his chest and aligned our hips, slipping into me in a seated position. Dimitri anchored me to him with his arm across my chest, one hand cupping my throat. The other hand slipped between my legs, his index finger resting against my clit. When he thrust into me, his cock nudged against the soft bundle of nerves inside my pussy and his finger shifted creating sensations that had me squirming against him with desire.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered against my ear, thrusting into me harder and harder until I was rising up, breasts bouncing and mouth open. I could feel an orgasm building and I couldn’t believe the way he seemed to know just what my body needed.
“Oh…” I gasped so close to the edge, eyes closed as I scrambled to fall into oblivion.
“You feel so good,” he grunted. “Your pussy’s so hot, so tight. I want you to come on me. Do it, Annabelle. Let me feel it.”
I gasped as a wave of pleasure hit me, making my back arch against him. He bucked into me until it was too much, too sensitive, then I felt his cock swell and his body stiffen. As I came down from the most amazing sexual experience wit
h tears in my eyes I was overwhelmed by the release but also the feeling of freedom that came with choosing a path and embracing it. I was overcome too by the realisation that the things you need to make you whole don’t have to be left behind when your life changes.
And I knew two things for sure. Dimitri had opened a door inside me that I wouldn’t be able to close again, and that somehow he knew my name even though I had never told him.
***
Nothing about leaving Dimitri’s room had been awkward. I had stayed with him for an hour after the sex was over and he had held me close whispering streams of Russian to me that felt like a lullaby in my mind. He caressed my skin as if he was memorising the swells and dips to recall another time, stroking over my caesarean scar, the only mark on my body that told the story of why I had left my dreams behind. When I rose to dress, he stayed under the covers, watching me with his serious eyes. I kissed him before I left and hugged him tightly as though I was leaving a friend.
The next day I arrived at work early, calling in a favour with my mum so I could watch the final performance of the show. Dimitri was everything the critics had raved about; majestic, captivating, the consummate professional. As I peeked from my place at the back of the Stalls, watching him mystify the audience and his body contort to escape his binds, I felt breathless with want. I had felt those strong hands on my body, felt him inside me. I knew that even if I never saw him again I would always hold the night with Dimitri in my heart. I would never forget him or the things he had helped me to see.
When the show was over I went to get my cleaning equipment, starting as I usually did in the Upper Circle. By the time I made it to the Stalls the theatre was quiet. There was a pretty bag resting on the stage and I dropped what I was holding on to the floor by the door and went to investigate. Inside the bag was a beautiful, soft bunny toy, just the kind of thing Molly would love. Next to it was a single white rose, the petals tinged with pink, and it reminded me of a costume I once wore years before. At the bottom of the bag was a booklet. As I pulled it out I realised it was a programme for the Nutcracker. On the front was a picture of a younger me, radiant and poised, Annabelle McKenna, Principal Dancer. Written across the picture was ‘Hold on tight to all the things you love, because they are the things that make you who you are’.
I looked around, trying to swallow down the burning lump in my throat, blinking away tears that threatened to spill, hoping I would see Dimitri somewhere near, but the theatre seemed empty. I sat for a while on the edge of the stage, then climbed up and danced until my muscles burnt.
Afterwards, I finished cleaning and headed home thinking about what a gift it was to be seen by someone, even when you had failed to truly see yourself. Wherever Dimitri was performing next, I hoped he would know how much he had changed me, just by asking for one simple dance.
End of book stuff
About the author
Hi! I’m Holly Stone. I live, work and write in London. Writing isn’t my day job but I love creating characters enough to do it in my spare time. When I’m not working, writing or parenting I’m reading, day dreaming about my next book and trying to stretch time like elastic!
I love people and chocolate and stories that grab you by the heart and squeeze. Before I became a mummy I travelled to cool places and studied ancient things and danced in heels and drank gin with orange juice. When my kids are grown I am planning to do all those things again, just wearing longer skirts!
Contact Information
I would love to hear from you. Contact me at [email protected]
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This short story is independently published and I have tried really hard to spot any errors in production. If you find one, please email me to let me know the location and I will aim to remove.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to the amazing people in my life who have shown support and enthusiasm for my little dream. I can’t express how much it has meant to me.
And thank you for reading.
Excerpt from DANCE FOR ME (2)
“Andrea, you’ve got a private dance in room three,” Adrian shouted over the bar.
I’d finished my stage dances for the night and had been taking a well-earned rest, but I was still on the clock for another couple of hours.
“Okay,” I said, slipping off my bar stool, feet already groaning in my ridiculous red stilettoes. It wasn’t busy for a Friday night. January rarely was before payday. Too many Christmas gifts on credit cards to repay, I suppose.
I strolled through the bar feeling greedy eyes on me, then descended the steps at the edge of the dancefloor towards the back area where the changing rooms and private rooms were concealed behind a large mirrored wall. As I rounded the corner I adjusted the underwire of my bra and looked down to make sure my panties and stockings were all in place. I hated red but it was a firm favourite among the clientele and I always made better tips when I wore it.
I paused outside the room as I always did, wondering who would be inside and quickly hoping that everything would be okay. There were strict rules about what happened in the private rooms but that didn’t mean that every drunken idiot obeyed them.
The handle creaked as I lowered it. The room was darker inside than in the corridor and a dark haired man sat on the sofa, waiting for the dance he had paid for.
DANCE FOR ME (2) is available now.
UK – Buy here
US – Buy here