Lovers' Dance

by Carr, K

  “For the record,” he continued pleasantly, “gazillionaire is not a word.”

  I gave him the finger and took my chances with oncoming traffic. Standing next to him was intolerable.

  “Madi!” he shouted as I sprinted across the busy road. The blare of horns unleashed was expected, it was Friday evening after all. Traffic was murder. When the lights changed, Matt raced across the road with Nathan on his heels. He caught up to me and grabbed me by the arms, shaking me vigorously.

  “Are you insane? You could’ve been knocked over,” he yelled. He was shaking me so hard my teeth chattered.

  “Better than standing next to you,” I managed to say while trying to escape his hold. “And why are you touching me? I said I would kick your mmph—”

  My mouth was being ravished by an irate man. I kicked him in the shins, but he kept on kissing me and wrapped his arms around my body, effectively putting an end to my struggles. It was a good kiss. It was an amazing kiss. One which I fought to resist, but damn, the next thing I knew, I was kissing him back with equal ferocity while cursing in my head.

  “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he said sternly once he let me up for air. I blinked slowly, lips throbbing, dazed as I observed his flushed face. He did look a bit scared and angry.

  “Come on,” he ordered, slipping his large hand over mine and stalking off. My gait was practically a run to keep up with him. By the time we reached where the car was parked, I was breathless, or maybe it was simply because of his kiss. Damn, it was an exquisite kiss.

  Holding my hand, he reached into his pants’ pocket and pulled out his keys.

  “You drive a Rolls-Royce,” I said in disgust. It had escaped my notice previously. How? I wasn’t a car person. My beat-up old Beetle got me from A to B. One car was as good as the other, as long as it worked.

  “Yes,” he replied, opening the passenger door. “Get in.”

  “No. I want my stuff.”

  Nathan, being relegated to the back seat, opened up his door and slid in without saying a word.

  “I swear if you don’t get into this car I will—”

  “You’ll what?” I interrupted his threat with a palm pushing against his chest. He didn’t move an inch.

  Matt’s expression softened. It unnerved me. He leaned into me and said huskily, “I’ll kiss you again, but this time I won’t stop.”

  The air caught in my throat. His lips hovered above my face and I could feel my nipples tightening from the close contact of his body. Why was I attracted to this asshole?

  “This is kidnap,” I groused, getting into his show-offy car. Matt slammed the door shut and hurried over to the driver’s side. Nathan was smiling politely from the back. I eyed my bag next to him. Could I snatch it and jump out the car before Matt—too late. He was behind the wheel and buckling up.

  “This is kidnap,” I repeated, swivelling in the seat to point at Nathan. “You’ll be charged as an accessory to the crime. It’ll make the headlines, and you’ll both do time. Gazillionaires don’t last long in prison.”

  Nathan’s polite smile blossomed into a real one. “My family’s business is in media. I think we could manage to keep a lid on this, and you should know people like us don’t go to jail. We have well-paid solicitors to see to that.”

  My belligerence deflated with a pop. He was right. People like them didn’t go to jail.

  “Put your seatbelt on, poppet,” Matt said, with a tentative smile.

  “You’re a racist pig,” I stated.

  “I’m not, in fact. You’re the only one bringing up the issue,” Matt countered quickly.

  “I would have told you about my background eventually, Madi.” He sighed in frustration. “It’s not something one blurts out. Look, let me drop Nathan off, then we can talk about this. Now, buckle up.”

  My eyebrows shot up, then lowered nervously. Before Googling him, I’d thought he was lovely. My knight. The only thing that had changed was his obscene financial status. Oh, and the fact I now believed he wanted me as a perverse sort of racial experiment. “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

  Matt’s jaw fell open, grey eyes wide with disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous. I could never hurt you.”

  I scrutinized his face until I was sure, then buckled up. The engine purred into life and we were off.

  “Is there anything else you’ve failed to mention, Mr Bradley?” I asked with frigid hostility. I was in his car and, for some crazy reason, I trusted him not to hurt me, but I could still be bitchy. Heck, it was a woman’s right to be bitchy, especially if the situation called for it. And this one certainly did.

  “Ah,” he began, hesitating for a moment. That pause made my mind go into a tailspin.

  “Oh my God. You’re married, aren’t you? You disgusting, old man.”

  Nathan was laughing softly in the backseat, obviously enjoying the argument.

  Matt shot me a semi-scowl. “I am not married, and I am not old. Do you see a ring on my finger? Did you read anything about my marital status when you Googled me?”

  He had a point there. The Internet hadn’t thrown up anything about him being happily married. It had listed some of his past partners, though. I stayed silent, confused at the sudden rush of jealousy coursing through me. There were pictures, pictures of his ex-girlfriends. None of them looked like me. Read between the lines.

  “Why do you keep harping on about my age? I’m thirty-six, not ninety-six.”

  “Thirty-seven next month,” Nathan volunteered from the back.

  “For the love of God, shut up, Nathan,” Matt exploded. We all fell silent. It was a tense drive to Kensington. I snorted in disgust. Figures they would live in the same area. When Matt pulled up to a house almost as impressive as his, my earlier feelings of inferiority threatened to swamp me. I slumped lower in the seat.

  “I must say,” Nathan said, with amusement ringing through his voice, “this afternoon has been quite an experience. It was truly a pleasure meeting you, Madison.”

  He leaned forward and held his hand out to me. Good manners required me shaking it.

  “I wish I could say the same,” I replied tonelessly, taking back my hand. Nathan tilted his head between Matt and me, a sober smile on his face. “I doubt we’ll be seeing each other again. Best of luck with your dance company. Matt, I’ll be seeing you soon. Cheerio.” He exited the car, whistling under his breath.

  Matt let out a long sigh, then turned in his seat to face me. I stared at my folded hands in my lap.

  “Madi, look at me.”

  “I don’t want to, Matt.”

  “Please,” he said quietly. It sounded like that ‘please’ hurt. A man like him probably didn’t say please often. He probably didn’t need to ask for things, just expected them.

  I lifted my head slowly.

  “I want you, poppet, and not for any underhanded, racially motivated reasons like you suspect. I want you the way a man wants a woman. I want more than anything to make love to you, but if you feel absolutely no desire for me”—his hands clenched the steering wheel— “I will drop you off wherever you wish and never see you again. If you do want me the same way I want you, then I’ll take you to my house and spend the rest of today memorizing every inch of you. The choice is yours. Whatever your decision, I will respect it.”

  He kept his intense grey eyes on my face, searching for an indication of my feelings. I didn’t know what to think, to feel, to say. Before bumping into him on the Mall, I had managed to push him to the back of my mind. The memory of that night embarrassed me. We were different, too different. I mean, come on, this wasn’t going to have a fairy-tale ending. I was black, he was white. I was financially overstretched, while he was obscenely wealthy. He was ten years my senior, arrogant, and loads more experienced than me in every possible category I could think of. So why was I staring at his mouth and wishing things like race and wealth didn’t matter?

  “Matt, I don’t—” I tried to get my words out, and that glimmer
of hope and desire in his eyes faded. Matt turned his head away, staring out the windscreen with his jaw clenched tightly. He was such a great kisser though.

  “Take me back to yours, please,” I said in a shaky voice, freaking out over my rash decision.

  Matt’s head jerked around. He stared at me for a moment, started the car and put his foot down. I was amazed he didn’t get stopped, although I thought I saw the flash of a few speed cameras on our way to his home. I was trembling with nerves and anticipation when we pulled up in front his house. Matt hadn’t said a word. He came around to open my door, grabbed my hand, and got his briefcase and my bag out of the back before hurrying us up the few steps to his front door. His keys jangled as he impatiently opened up, then we were inside. He dropped our stuff and proceeded to tongue the life out of me. I pulled my wallet and cell out of my pocket and he tossed his phone somewhere behind us. He lifted me up against him so I could wrap my legs around his waist as we kissed passionately. I was running my fingers through his incredibly, soft hair, moaning into his mouth, while he effortlessly carried me through the house and up the stairs. He kicked his door open, heading straight for the bed when I pulled away gasping.

  “Wait, Matt, I’m all sweaty. I—ahh.” My words stopped as he began kissing my neck, but I had been chased by a cop and, before that, had been dancing under the hot sun wearing a leotard, plus tutu. I needed a shower.

  “Matt, please.” I gripped his hair and tugged.

  “Poppet.” He groaned. “I can’t stop.”

  “I’m sweaty. I want a shower first.” My voice could’ve been firmer, but he had resumed kissing my neck and it was distracting as hell.

  “We’ll get sweaty again,” he breathed across my skin.

  “I don’t care. I want a shower,” I insisted.

  Matt growled, he growled at me, then strode to the ensuite with me in his arms. He didn’t wait for us to get undressed as we entered the shower enclosure. He turned on the shower, full blast, drenching us both. We still had our shoes on. Matt let me down and started tugging at my clothes. Off went my t-shirt, then my bra. I was struggling with the buttons of his wet shirt. Fuck it. He was rich enough to buy a new one. I ripped the shirt open. Matt leaned back, wet hair streaming down his face and grinned at me as he eased the torn shirt off.

  “Bloody hell, woman.”

  “Shut up,” I ordered, blushing at the harsh treatment endured by his shirt at my hands, as my favourite boots filled with water. Matt leaned down to kiss me, his fingers fumbling with the button on my pants. The water was cascading over us, flowing into our open-mouth kiss. It was freaking hot.

  “Mwboots,” I warbled, trying not to drown as Matt explored the inside of my mouth with his tongue.

  “Mmm,” he responded, unbuttoning my shorts and slowing starting to ease them and my panties down.

  I pulled away gasping. “My boots are still on.”

  Matt glanced down. His own shoes were soaked. He went to his knees and started taking off my boots. I rested my hand on his shoulders for balance as he manhandled them off. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, then bent over to press kisses across his nape. Matt groaned loudly and ran his hands up my legs. I was tingling all over, aching all over. Matt slid his hands over my shorts and pulled everything down. He made a sound at the back of his throat, almost feral-like, then started pressing kisses over my stomach, venturing lower. I gripped his hair and tugged until his upturned face stared at me.

  “A proper shower first,” I said firmly.

  Exasperation clouded his face as he narrowed his eyes at me in sexual frustration. I grinned at him, naked in front a kneeling man and not caring in the least. I was going to have sex with him today. After today, I would not be a twenty-six year-old freak of a virgin. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

  Matt’s exasperation melted away at my smile and he got to his feet. He kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks, then made short work of his belt before finally removing the rest of his clothes.

  I ended up in the corner of the shower, eyes wide with shock and apprehension. Matt was big all over. Big and clearly aroused.

  “Don’t come near me with that…that thing,” I warned. I had seen penises before. Fleeting glimpses if accidentally walking in on our male dancers at the studio whenever they changed. But Matt was big enough to make me pause; hell, I was frozen in the corner of his fancy, double-shower enclosure.

  “Poppet.” He took a step towards me.

  I grabbed the back scrub brush hanging from a hook, waving it at him like a weapon. “No, Matt. I changed my mind. It won’t fit. Stay back, goddamn it.”

  He laughed, a deep, sexy, predatory laugh that sent shivers down my spine and took another step towards me.

  “It will fit, don’t worry.”

  I waved the brush menacingly. “It’s—your thing is as big as me. Stay back.”

  He laughed and took another step. “That’s an outrageous exaggeration, poppet. Come here and let me soap your back.”

  “It will hurt. I’ve changed my mind,” I said terrified. What if I ended up with internal injuries? I was small in comparison to his frame. It seemed impossible that he could actually fit inside me. Oh God. What was I doing?

  Matt realized I was nervous, and he held a hand out instead of advancing like a wet, sexual nightmare preparing to ravish me. He swiped his water-logged hair off his face and smiled at me.

  “Madi, I’ll be as gentle as physically possible. Come here.”

  Bit by bit I edged away from the corner, avoiding any form of eye contact with his lower body. I took his hand and he raised it to his lips, pressing wet kisses over my hand while holding my gaze with his. His tongue flicked over my wrist, causing my eyes to close for a moment as my fingers tightened around his. I dropped the brush.

  “Promise?” I asked in a small voice.

  Matt pulled me against his naked body and kissed my temple softly. “I promise, poppet.”

  It was the quickest shower known to man. Matt’s hands gliding intimately over my body with the help of soap was slowly driving me insane. I think he was losing his mind, too, as I ran my slippery hands over his upper torso. The courage to dare lower evaded me.

  “We’re clean enough,” he said huskily, while the water rinsed the soap suds away. Ten seconds later the shower squeaked off and Matt lifted me into his arms. He took me into the bedroom. We were dripping wet as he laid me on top the pristine white sheets. Matt kissed me, claiming my mouth like a man possessed, while I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders. How could he do that? How could he turn my body into an inferno with a kiss? The feel of his nakedness pressing against mine was exhilarating. I squirmed under him, instinctively opening my legs as he tortured my lips with his own. When I felt his hardness pressing against me I stiffened, but his hands were caressing my sides, my hips, slipping under me, stroking my ass. His hands were everywhere. I was busy touching him, too, wildly running my fingers up and down his back, feather light touches across his unbelievably tight ass that turned into desperate gripping as he cupped one of my breasts.

  “Please, Matt,” I begged. “Just do it. I can’t wait. Do it.”

  Matt groaned, conflicted over my request. “Let me get you ready,”

  “I am ready.” I moaned. There was a wetness between my legs that had nothing to do with the water from our shower. I arched myself against him, entwining my legs with his. Matt stilled for a second, then slowly rubbed himself against my moist opening with a movement of his hips. I gasped at the sensation. He did it again, eyes locked on my face as he watched my reaction to his movements.

  “It will hurt a little,” he said in a voice hoarse with tightly reined passion.

  I gulped and nodded. I knew it would hurt. “A little, just a little.”

  Matt’s expression softened as he lowered his mouth to press a tender kiss to my lips. “More than a little, poppet. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. It’s impossible not to.”

  I nodded, understanding
what he was trying to say. It would hurt, he would cause me pain, but it was inevitable.

  Matt rubbed his throbbing thickness over me again and again, then slipped in a little. He was keeping the majority of his weight on his elbows, but his large hands framed my face.

  “Please, Matt,” I whispered.

  He pushed in a bit more and I tensed up at the strange new feeling of him stretching me. It felt good. My flesh was aching, tingling bursts of pleasure shooting through every nerve in my body. Matt kept peering intently at me. I couldn’t look away from his gaze.

  “Matt, please.”

  “God, poppet, I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes had darkened to silver, flooded with desire, and only for me. I arched my hips upwards. Matt let out a loud groan and pushed his way deep inside my body in one smooth determined motion that ripped a shout of anguished torment from my lips.

  “Breathe. Breathe. Breathe through it,” he kept murmuring, while pressing soft kisses over my face. It burned, it hurt. The intrusion of his body deep inside the recess of my body was alien. I was biting down on my lower lip hard, trying not to cry out in discomfort as I inhaled raggedly.

  “It hurts,” I rasped, hands digging into his sides.

  “I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Matt rubbed his nose against mine, nuzzling my cheeks as he stayed motionless inside me, giving me a chance to get used to it. “It will get better. I promise. Breathe, poppet.”

  I don’t know how long we laid there, him murmuring words of comfort while I tried to get used to the sensation of being joined intimately with someone.

  “Better?” he finally asked when my breaths had stopped coming in ragged puffs. I nodded slowly and he smiled at me, before slowly withdrawing until only the tip of him remained inside my opening. Matt slanted his lips over mine as he moved his hips, sliding back inside me. The pain wasn’t as bad the second time around, and I wrapped my arms tight around him, rubbing my body into his. Matt gasped, nibbling my lips as he pulled out gently, then pushed back in with a tad more force. I moaned, partly in pain, partly in confusion at the strangeness of it. He was touching part of me that had known no touch before. It continued to burn, but the heat seemed to be emanating not just from myself, but from him, too.