Third Position

by Melody Grace

  I can’t take it, it’s all too much. My legs buckle and I fall against him. “Raphael...” I manage to gasp. I feel like I’m coming undone, and all the while, desire still burns. Aching, needing him. A raging hunger that can’t be satisfied, not yet.

  Not like this.

  Raphael stops and meets my gaze. His jaw is clenched, his body taut with tension.

  “This is your choice,” he says. “Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

  “You,” I shudder. I’ve never wanted anything more. “All of you.”

  He rises to his feet and lifts me like I’m nothing, carrying me across to the bed in a few short strides. I fall back into the soft covers, and then he’s looming above me, stripping off his shirt and pants until his bronzed body is clad only in underwear, the hard ridge of his desire clearly outlined through the fabric.

  I catch my breath, and a small part of my brain flashes red with nerves at the size of him. How will I possibly take all of that? But the hunger takes over. I pull him toward me and slide my hands across his magnificent body to touch and feel every inch of muscle and smooth, velvet skin.

  He feels incredible.

  Raphael groans, thrusting against me. I part my thighs, drawing him closer. His fingers find me, dancing between the apex of my thighs again, and the pleasure is insane. I cry out, biting down on his shoulder as his fingers delve deeper, curling up inside me. One finger, pulsing into me, then two, stroking until I’m mindless, my head thrown back as I clutch on to him for dear life.

  But it’s not enough. I need to feel him, too. I reach for his cock, closing my fingers around the hard length of him, tugging him closer, but Raphael suddenly pulls away, rocking back on his heels to strip off his underwear and pull a foil packet from the bedside stand.

  His eyes find mine, never leaving me as he slides on the condom and positions himself between my thighs. My heart catches in my throat and I tense up.

  “Hey,” Raphael whispers, leaning down to capture my lips in a kiss. “It’s OK. I promise.”

  “I know.” I blush, embarrassed. I must seem so naive to him, such an inexperienced girl. “I just...I don’t know what to do.”

  “Yes, you do.” Raphael’s mouth moves to my ear, his sexy accent sending shivers down my spine. “Listen to your body.” He strokes across my stomach, leans to kiss my breast. I gasp, the tension in me slowly unwinding at the touch of his mouth, his hands, his body against my skin. “Just let go, the way you did before,” he murmurs, his touch slipping lower, between my thighs as he braces himself above me. “Let go, and dance.”

  He touches me softly until my body is liquid, my insecurities drowned out by the desire that beats louder, until it’s a crescendo, and the only thing in the world that can calm the desperate ache is him. Right now.

  Inside me.

  I pull his face to mine, kissing him hard as I open my thighs and arch up in a silent invitation.

  Slowly, he pushes inside.

  Oh God.

  I’m overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensations. There’s an ache, a sharp pain as I feel him start to fill me, but suddenly he’s pulling back, his body clenched with tension.

  I look up at him, confused. “Is something wrong?” I whisper.

  Raphael smiles tenderly, but I can see the ragged control in his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he mutters.

  “You won’t.” I rise up against him again, pressing my body to his. “I trust you. Please.” My voice wavers on my final plea. I don’t want to go slow, or hold back anymore. I want to fall, to feel it, all of him. Everything.

  Raphael’s eyes flash, and he kisses me hungrily, a desperate, searching kiss. His body surges into mine again, deeper, so much deeper this time. The pain is sharper, more intense, the hard length of him splitting me open, filling me up. It’s almost more than I can stand, and he stops again, still buried deep inside.

  “Is this OK?” he growls, lifting his head above me.

  I gasp, feeling myself stretch around him to accommodate his thickness. The pain is dulling, and in its place, there’s a new ache, needy and wanting. I flex around him, testing.

  “Oh God,” Raphael groans, crumpling the bed sheets in his fist. “You’re so tight. Jesus, you feel so fucking good!”

  He starts to withdraw again, slowly sliding out, and I’m shocked at the absence I feel where he leaves me. I make a noise of protest, sliding my hands down over his back and arching up against him, desperate to keep him here inside.

  Raphael’s eyes go dark. He slams me back onto the bed and thrusts up into me, all the way to the hilt. I cry out, feeling him deep, so fucking deep inside I lose all sense of where I end and he begins. There’s only the two of us now, joined as one, the surge of him inside me, and my answering thrusts. I clutch at him, feeling my way through the unknown, letting my body take over, as if it’s danced these steps a thousand times.

  Suddenly, Raphael rolls our bodies so I’m above him now, bearing down on him. His body rises up to meet me, slamming new waves of pleasure through me with every stroke.

  Sweet Jesus.

  I rock against him, moaning, and oh! The pressure hits me inside and out, a new wicked angle, right there, sending the black glitter rushing through my veins. Every movement spreads the pleasure, pulling me higher, driving me faster. Raphael’s eyes are locked on mine, a mirror of wild abandon. I can hear myself whimpering as I rise up and plunge down again, clenching around him, every thrust sending me hurtling closer to the edge. I’m rising, rising, but it’s too far—I’m drowning in sensation, overcome.

  “Don’t stop, baby,” Raphael growls, his fingers digging hard into my hips. “Move with me, feel it, right there.” He surges up inside me again and it feels so good, more than words could ever describe.

  Raphael grabs my wrists, flipping us suddenly to pin me down against the bed. His mouth captures mine in a relentless kiss as his body crashes into me, driving me hard into the mattress with an animal thrust that sends my mind shattering into a thousand pieces.

  I scream, arching back, thrusting up to meet him. I’m falling apart, nothing but sensation and desperate need. Raphael answers my cries with another ragged kiss. His hands are on me everywhere, his cock plunging, hard and relentless, thick and sweet inside me, hitting everywhere, hitting just right. “Raphael,” I sob, writhing beneath him, begging for something, but I don’t even know what. “Please!”

  He rises up, pushing my legs back, locking my ankles up behind his neck as he strokes inside me again, deeper than ever before, hitting a new burst of pleasure, high inside me.

  Jesus!

  I arch back, clutching the headboard, holding on for dear life, needing him to fill me up. Raphael slides out and rocks into me again, all the way in, finding that sweet spot, so fucking deep I lose my mind. I thrust against him, trying to force his rhythm, but Raphael just pins me down with one hand, his eyes locked on mine, slowly sliding out and plunging back into me, fucking me with deep, precise strokes.

  I’m crying out, not caring about anything but the fire in my bloodstream, the sharp rising tide, and the feel of him, only him, so thick inside me, driving me out of myself, into the blackness, past the edge of sanity and reason, teetering on the edge of chaos.

  “Annalise,” Raphael gasps. His beautiful face is wild, his eyes blazing with desperate need. “God, Annalise!”

  He slides out of me again, so so slow, and then suddenly drives into me hard.

  I scream, pleasure bursting like fireworks through my body. Raphael rocks again, slow, too slow, and then pistons hard, slamming me back into the mattress with the force.

  Fuck!

  He slams into me again, harder still, and I rise up to meet him, clawing, reckless, biting down on his neck as he crashes into me, driving deep, faster now, sweeping me up in his torrid rhythm until I’m raging, consuming him as he devours me, our bodies strung out and hurtling together toward the brightness, a supernova in the night’s sky.

  “Look at me.” He tilts
my face back up, eyes level with mine.

  I stare back, completely helpless. Raphael’s dark gazes pierces into me, all the way to my soul, as his body demands all I have to give. The intimacy shatters my last resistance, and I feel the pressure rise, cresting, the first wave of ecstasy rushing through my skin. I open my mouth in a silent scream, but he won’t let me look away; holding me, forcing me to give him everything, the last barriers between us falling away as I feel him shudder in my arms. Raphael’s eyes widen and he cries out, a desperate, animal sound that’s the last thing I register before the pleasure finally rips my world apart, blotting out the sun and slamming through my body in a tidal wave of pure sensation that crashes, over and over, until there’s nothing left of me.

  Only us. Only him.

  My love.

  9.

  I spend most of the night with Raphael, learning his body by heart, but I know I can’t hide here forever.

  “Will you be OK?” Raphael frowns, tenderly touching my cheek in the doorway.

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Walking out of practice like that was a big deal. There’ll be consequences for sure. And my mother…” I shiver at what her reaction will be.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

  “Don’t be.” I lift my gaze. “I’m not sorry about a single thing that happened.” My lips curl into a grin. I can’t help smiling. Even with all my worries, I still feel like I just learned to fly.

  Raphael pulls me in to steal another kiss. “When can I see you again?”

  “I’m not sure. Soon, I hope.” I breathe in the scent of him, trying to commit him to memory. “I’ll text you when the coast is clear.”

  “Good luck.”

  He kisses me one last time before I pull away and head down in the elevator. It’s late, so I catch a cab across the midnight city back to Mom’s apartment, trying to keep hold of this happiness before it all comes crashing down.

  Walking out like that was reckless, but I don’t regret a single choice. Being with Raphael today was the right thing to do, and now I guess I’ll just have to face the music.

  I punch in the security code, and climb the ornate staircase up to the apartment. The door is locked, and I silently turn my key, praying that Mom is still in bed.

  But of course, she isn’t.

  Every light is on when I step into the apartment. Mom sits, waiting on the couch.

  I take a few steps into the room, and let my bag fall to the floor. Her face is pinched, but I can see the anger radiating from every muscle in her slim body.

  I gulp.

  Her eyes flick over me from head to toe. I flush, wondering if she can tell.

  “Well,” she says at last. “I hope he was worth it.”

  I cringe. “Mom—”

  “No.” She cuts me off, rising to her feet. “Nothing you could say right now will make up for what you just did. Do you realize what you’ve thrown away?” Her voice rises, shrill with anger.

  I hate that it’s come to this, that there’s no way forward without hurting someone. Mom, or me. That I have to choose between betraying everything I’ve worked for in the ballet, and following my heart. “I love him,” I say quietly, fighting back tears.

  But my mother looks at me like I’m a stranger.

  “You don’t know what love is.” She stabs a finger at me. “Love is dedication and commitment to your craft. Love is training day after day, until finally you make it to the top!”

  “No,” I shake my head. “It’s not the same. I love dance, I do, but this is something else—”

  “There is nothing else!” She raises her hand and then there’s a crack of pain, sharp against my cheek.

  I reel back in shock.

  “You don’t understand,” she continues, her slender frame shaking with anger. “You don’t know what I gave up, what I sacrificed—”

  “But I do!” I cry, fighting back the tears. “Mademoiselle told me, about why you quit performing. I know that I’m the reason. And I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry, but I can’t live your dreams for you!”

  There’s silence. “What are you talking about?” Mom stares at me. “You weren’t my reason for quitting,” she tells me clearly, her face twisting with a note of self-loathing. “You were my excuse. And there’s not a single day that goes by when I don’t regret giving up.”

  What?

  “I was weak,” she tells me, her tone bitingly cool. “I was at the top, I had everything, and I couldn’t take it. All I could see were people coming for me, knives out. God, those bitches would have done anything to take my spot. It was mine,” she says fiercely. “I earned it, I deserved it. But I didn’t know how to hold on.”

  She pauses. “I didn’t have a mother like you, you see.” Mom fixes me with a sharp look. “Mine was ordinary, pedestrian. She just wanted me to be happy,” she mimics the words, mocking the woman who had always had a kind word for me, a hand-knit sweater, a soft hug on her lap as we watched the afternoon cartoons. “She didn’t realize there are more important things in life, like being the best. I should have never listened to her. I should have done anything to stay at the top. But I walked away.”

  The walls are caving in on me. I fight to breathe. Everything I thought I knew is crumbling. “I don’t understand,” I stammer. “What happened?”

  Mom’s face is pinched, a mask of regret. “I saw what happened to dancers past their peak. How they try to cling to their former glory. It’s pathetic. The whispers, the steady demotions, until finally somebody pulls you aside and suggests you take a step back from performing, focus on being an ambassador for the art instead.” Her voice is scathing. “I was scared that would happen to me, that people would gossip about how the great Meredith Taylor had lost her form and didn’t know when to quit. But if I got pregnant...” A victorious smile plays across her lips. “Nobody could hold it against me then. Everyone would understand.”

  I stare at her, wordless. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I always thought she’d wanted me—enough to risk her dancing, enough to risk everything. And instead...

  Instead, I was just an escape route. A way to preserve her precious dancing legacy, to silence the critics and still go out on top.

  “But Mademoiselle said…she said having me was the reason you never danced the same again. Because you had something in your life that you loved more than ballet.”

  Mom looks at me with pity in her eyes, and then I see it: the cool blue clarity, unreachable.

  Untouchable.

  “I will never love anything in this world more than ballet.” Her voice cuts through me like a shard of ice. “And if you’re the daughter I raised, then neither will you.”

  My heart breaks.

  Mom’s face flashes, and I can tell she regrets what she’s said. “I’m only telling you this for your own good,” she adds quickly. “Now go to bed,” she says shortly, looking away. “You have rehearsal in the morning. I covered with Gilbert, said you were sick. But you can’t miss another performance, do you hear me? This is your last chance.”

  I don’t answer. Everything’s falling apart, everything I thought I knew disintegrating beneath my feet. I can’t think straight, can barely see through the tears stinging my eyes.

  Mom reaches for me, but I flinch away. “Trust me, Annalise, this boy...he’s not worth it.” Her expression turns beseeching. “Sooner or later, he’ll let you down, and then what will you do? It’ll be too late. You’ll have sacrificed too much. You can’t take these things back once they’re done. I know, I’ve been there, and there’s not a single day that passes I don’t regret it.”

  “Regret me.” I say, with a shaking voice. “You mean, regret me.”

  “Annalise—”

  I turn and flee for my bedroom, locking the door behind me and sinking onto the bed in tears.

  10.

  I don’t sleep. All I can hear is Mom’s voice echoing in my head. “I will never love anything in this world more than ballet.”

  All these yea
rs I’ve tried so hard to make her proud, but it’s been in vain. I always thought that if I made it into the Company, if I won those solos, if I danced as well as her, then maybe it would make her happy, and she would finally be proud of me.

  Now, I realize with a sinking heart, I might never make her happy. Because the very fact that I’m here, alive, is a constant reminder of everything she gave up. When she looks at me, she doesn’t see her daughter, she just sees her own weakness and mistakes—the one thing she would take back if she could ever do it over again.

  She wishes I’d never been born.

  By the time dawn breaks outside the windows, I’m sick with emotion. There’s only one person who can help me make sense of this. Raphael.

  I try his cell phone, but there’s no reply. He mentioned he was on the breakfast shift at the restaurant, so I scramble into a sweater and jeans and make my way across town. People give me a wide berth on the street and buses, glancing sideways as I sniffle and try to keep it together, but by the time I reach the restaurant, my tears are coming in hot, desperate sobs. All I want is to be in Raphael’s arms, for him to hold me and tell me everything’s going to be OK.

  I quickly wipe my face and take a shaky breath, tapping on the front door. It’s early, and the restaurant is still closed to customers, but I can see Luca inside helping set up the morning service, and I know Raphael will be here somewhere, too.

  Luca lets me in, looking surprised. “Annalise, is everything OK?”

  I shake my head, knowing that if I try to explain, I’ll just fall apart again. “Is Raphael here?”

  “Sure, he’s out back,” Luca nods. “Go right through.”

  I put my head down and hurry through the restaurant. Luca’s family wave and greet me, but I don’t pause. I can’t. It’s taken everything I have to get here, and now I just need Raphael, more than anything in the world.

  I push through the back door and step out into the alleyway behind the restaurant. I see Raphael and open my mouth to call to him, but then I see who he’s with, and my heart stops.