Lovers' Dance

by Carr, K

  Matt moved further into the living room as I listened to my aunt complain about her kids and husband. Then came the expected: money.

  “Aunt Cleo.” I tried for firm. “I can’t right now.”

  I could feel Matt pacing my living room. The urge to turn around and watch him was great, but I didn’t want to see the distance in his eyes. Our relationship had seemingly run its course. It was hard, had been so hard to fight my growing feelings for him. Spotting pictures of him in magazines, tabloids, most of the times with a beautiful woman on his arm…it had been so fucking hard to not say, “Matt, it hurts.” I had swallowed my pain because I knew what I was getting myself into from the get-go.

  “Please, don’t. Aunt Cleo, I can’t—of course, I love you. Fine. Jesus Christ.” She shouted at me so loud for taking the Lord’s name in vain I had to take the phone away from my ear for a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear as I unconsciously fiddled with my hands. Not wanting Matt to overhear any more, I walked into the kitchen.

  <><><>

  Matt watched her as he paced the floor. She was upset. He always knew when she got stressed. She would scratch her little finger without being aware she was doing it. He watched her disappear into the kitchen, then followed her.

  <><><>

  “I don’t have that much spare, Aunt Cleo.” My voice was a low hiss. Why did she do this to me? Ask me for money, then remind me of all the years she had cared for me like her own. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help her, it was financially impossible to get her the amount she wanted when she wanted.

  “How can you owe so much in back tax? Doesn’t Reggie do your taxes anymore?”

  I watched Matt uneasily as he came into the kitchen and pulled a chair. This was embarrassing. The issue of money hardly ever came up between us. We both tried to avoid it like the plague.

  “Look, I’ll sort it. I need a few days. I’ve got to go. Bye.” I hung up before she could find another one of my weak points and exploit it.

  “Sorry about that.” I attempted to smile at him as he sat on the chair and stretched his legs out. With a deep breath I said, “You wanted to talk?”

  Here it comes. The: ‘Listen, poppet, we’ve had fun, a few laughs. Let’s call it quits now.’

  Matt stared at me for a long moment, then held his arms out. “Come here, poppet.”

  Shoulders drooping, I made my way over to where he pulled me into his lap and eased the phone out of my hand. Was this the last cuddle from him? When he ended it, I would put on a brave face and agree with him. Why did he have to touch me? The soothing stroke of his hand over my back was heaven; any time he touched me it felt like heaven. Maybe he wanted to have sex one more time before he kicked me to the curb. Well, no. I would say…yes. Who was I trying to kid? Matt was an experienced lover, and being with him the past couple of months had been bliss. He did things, things that turned my body into one big puddle of pleasure. All my virginal nervousness had long gone. All that remained was my eagerness to please him between the sheets, to see his eyes darken with delight when I followed his lead and gave myself over to his expert tutelage. I’d surprised him a few times by my behaviour. He was addictive, so damned addictive, and he wasn’t mine. Not really. We were only fooling around with each other.

  “Did you hear me, poppet?” he murmured, lips nibbling my sensitive neck. I’d been so engrossed in my depressed musings his words had gone unnoticed.

  “Ah, no.” Hands curled into fists to stop myself from grabbing him. “What did you say?”

  Matt chuckled against my skin, his warm breath tickling my ear. “I’m going to presume your lack of focus is due to me touching you and not my boring you.”

  I squirmed in his lap as he nibbled my ear and chuckled. A low, seductive sound. I enjoyed it when he laughed like that, knowing he was thinking dirty thoughts and wanting those thoughts to be put into actions.

  “What did you say, Matt?”

  “I said, let’s go on a short holiday. Anywhere you want, as long as it’s somewhere hot.”

  I leaned back, eyes wide with surprise. A vacation? He wanted to go on a vacation with me? Not break up like I’d assumed?

  “Are you serious?”

  Matt nodded, then manoeuvred me around so I straddled him on the chair. “I’m a very serious man, poppet. Have you been to Italy before?”

  I shook my head while his hands began to edge my dress up my thighs. His head was bent as he pushed my dress up completely, revealing the blue silk panties I wore. Matt let out a satisfied sigh, fingers stroking lightly over my upper thighs, creeping higher. Another sigh left his lips when he felt the slight dampness of the material.

  “I own a few properties around Italy.” His fingers became more demanding as he rubbed me through the material. “All nicely private. With a little luck, I should be able to clear up my schedule for a few days.” He slipped the panties to one side, baring me for his perusal, and the sound he made this time was quite gratifying. “What do you think, poppet? Mmm?”

  I was distracted, to say the least. Matt’s erotic stroking over my flesh had my brain stuttering.

  “I’ve got a lot going on at the studio,” I managed to get out. Matt lifted his gaze to mine the exact moment he slid a finger inside me. I gasped in pleasure at the intrusion and a smug smile tugged his lips.

  “Take some time off,” he ordered, two fingers moving in and out my body. I was wet, soaking wet, and Matt was obviously enjoying his ability to make my body respond quickly to his touch. “Let’s go to bed,” he said huskily. I shuddered as he pulled his fingers away, then blushed furiously when he stuck his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean, eyes trained on me the whole time he did so.

  “Blushing, poppet?”

  I shoved him in the chest as I jumped off him. “Black girls don’t blush,” I answered, my embarrassment making my tone terse. Matt laughed, then stood up adjusting his pants as he did. The thick bulge in there had my mouth watering with anticipation.

  “Whatever you say, Madi. Now, I want to talk to you about those candles. Remember what I warned you I would do if you—”

  I was shrieking and running out the kitchen, planning to lock myself into the bedroom. Matt gave chase, his legs were longer but I was smaller and, in this instance, faster. He caught me though, right inside the bedroom door.

  “Don’t you dare,” I said, giggling as he wagged his eyebrows at me in a lecherous manner.

  “Promise you’ll stop harping on about it,” he said with a touch of exasperation. “Your constant reminders only serve to cement the fact I am an advantageous old coot corrupting your innocence.”

  “I’ll stop,” I promised, tugging his shirt out of his trousers. “Do you want your present now?”

  Matt licked his lips, erroneously assuming it had something to do with my body. He nodded, undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. I grinned at him, then headed for the dresser where the gift-wrapped rectangular box lay.

  “Poppet,” he said, as I walked back with it in my hands. “I didn’t expect a gift.”

  “Open it.” I held it out to him. With an embarrassed frown on his face, he shrugged off his pants before taking the box. Matt in his shirt and silk boxers was an incredible sight.

  “It’s light,” he said, shaking it. I grinned and he started to grin as a speculative gleam lit his eyes. “Mmm, I’m hoping it’s something lacy that fits you perfectly.”

  I shook my head, my grin one of nervousness now. I hoped he liked it. The gift was supposed to be tongue-in-cheek.

  Matt tore off the wrapping and opened the box. He shot me a quizzical look as he took out a bunch of clothes hangers.

  “The past few weeks you’ve been leaving your clothes behind,” I began to explain. “I thought maybe you could hang them up in the closet instead of on the chair. I mean, I keep reminding you to take them when you go, even washing and folding them for you…and you know I don’t normally fold
clothes.”

  A myriad of emotions flew across Matt’s face, finally settling to one of tenderness as he tossed the hangers over to the dresser, along with the empty box and wrapping paper.

  “About bloody time you figured it out,” he said as dry as dust, before grabbing me and tossing me onto the bed. “So stop removing my aftershave from the bathroom cabinet and bagging it up. Your dress is amazing, by the way. Take it off.”

  My mouth curled down at his domineering tone, but the dress did come off. He crawled into bed with me, laughing at my frown and knowing exactly why there was one on my face.

  “Seriously, Matt, you can’t order me around like one of your employees,” I groused, while he tugged my panties off, then spread my legs. He looked up at me, a devious smile on his face.

  “The only sounds I want from you are moans of pleasure, so be quiet until then, poppet.”

  My mouth fell open, outraged and shamefully turned on. “Why you arrogant—ah. Oh, Matt.”

  “Shush.” His voice was muffled from between my trembling legs, but carrying an edge of sternness. Damn, even going down on me he was bossy.

  “I’ll shush you,” I gasped out, winding my hands into his silky black hair. Matt focused on flicking his tongue over me, tormenting me until I was indeed only capable of moaning with pleasure.

  <><><>

  It was half-five and he was exhausted. He’d only had about an hour’s sleep and those reports that he should’ve gone over last night were untouched downstairs. Matt finished buttoning up his shirt, watching her roll over and reach out for him in her sleep. A pleased smile graced his face. He needed a proper night’s sleep, but he couldn’t stop himself around her. Matt tucked his shirt into his creased trousers. The mounting urge to tell her how he felt last night had been suppressed after the call from her aunt. She had been scratching her pinkie finger during the call, an unconscious gesture of stress he had noticed over their time together. He knew she was worried, and not wanting to add to her worry by admitting his desire to make their relationship public, he had bit his tongue. The opportunity would present itself soon enough.

  Matt made a mental note to get Rachel, his secretary, to clear a full week for him. He would take Madison to Italy, then convince her to agree to his demands. Being in the public eye was daunting if one wasn’t used to it. And Matt knew that once news broke of him being in a relationship with a black woman ten years his junior…he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He would get his PR team to launch a charm offensive. Maybe take her out to a few charity functions first.

  He’d also been toying with the idea of investing funds in her dance company. From what she’d told him, finding sufficient backing to launch a major production like the one they were planning was difficult. Matt made another mental note to speak to the division in his company that dealt with charitable donations. In fact, he was going to make it the first course of action. It would deal with any questions over his public interaction with her. Hell, he’d been forced over the years to attend numerous charity balls for the worthy causes his family donated money to. Yes, this could work. After a few publicity events, which would help improve the company’s image and bring the art of dance altruistically to the underprivileged, they could start being seen as a couple in public.

  Matt rubbed his chin, deep in thought. There were things he would need to keep out of the media, of course. Certain things about her parents could be misconstrued, and that bloody man, Kincaid. Matt felt frustration over her links to a man who was secretly being investigated by Serious Organised Crime Agency. After reading the file Nathan had procured, Matt had done his own investigation. He wasn’t happy with what he’d found. All these things he kept to himself. Admitting his knowledge of it would lead to her finding out about the background check, and he knew she would be furious. A smile curled his lips.

  Feisty. His feisty, dark beauty who he loved. Matt’s breath caught in his throat. God. Was he truly in love with her or obsessed with the pleasure she brought him? His heart said ‘yes’, while his logical mind scoffed. Matt decided that, for once, he would listen to his heart…

  <><><>

  “Matt?” I murmured, reaching out and finding only pillows.

  “I’m here, poppet,” he said from above. I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed, clutching the sheets to my chest as Matt buckled his belt.

  “What time is it?”

  “Five thirty. I have to go.”

  I nodded and yawned widely. Matt grinned, coming over to sit next to me on the bed.

  “I’ll try to call you later,” he said, leaning down to kiss my bare shoulder. “I should know by this afternoon when we can go.”

  “Go where?” I was half asleep. I wrapped my arms around his neck, the covers slipped down, pooling around my waist. Matt’s hands dug gently into my back.

  “Italy, poppet.” he replied, before kissing me deeply. “Go back to sleep. I’ll lock the door after me.”

  “Okay.” I stayed awake long enough for him to walk out of the bedroom, then slumber took hold once more. When my alarm blared out at seven, I rolled over and snuggled my face in his pillow. His scent was intoxicating. Everything about Matthew Bradley was intoxicating. And overwhelming. Consuming was a better word. He consumed me. It was scary as hell, and damn exciting. Yawning, I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.

  By the time I parked outside the studio, I was jonesing to see him again.

  “Hey, Madi.” Gloria, our receptionist and part-time toddler group dance instructor, held up a cup of coffee.

  “Gloria, you’re the best,” I said in appreciation as I walked by and took the offered cup. “Is Dante in? I didn’t see his car out front.”

  She nodded, flicking through her magazine. “His girlfriend dropped him off about thirty minutes ago. He’s in the office.”

  I forced myself to smile and traipsed into the office. I disliked Christine with a passion. Heck, I’ll say it: I hated the bitch. She was so up her own asshole, laughing at me when she thought I didn’t notice. Dante’s little friend, Dante’s annoying sister, Dante’s stray; all those comments she made in jest around the others. Forget the fact she was hot as hell and knew it. She was a conniving, little witch who made it clear the first time we met that Dante was hers. I’m all about sisters sticking together, but she was one of those fair-skinned black people who thought they were better than anyone darker than them. Where the hell did she get off? Dante was as dark as me and currently her boyfriend, so her superiority complex was faulty. I sighed and eyed the office door for a full minute before entering. Sour grapes. I was honest enough to admit I disliked her because she’d stolen Dante from me. Not that he was mine to begin with—

  “Hey sweet cheeks.” Dante got up from the cross-legged position he was in on the floor. “You look tired. Not sleep much last night?”

  Another thanks sent upward my cheeks couldn’t physically turn red. “Umm, yeah, something like that.” I tossed my bag onto one of the worn chairs in the office. The space was cramped, suitable for our needs, but definitely cramped.

  “I’m thinking.” Dante held a hand out to me.

  “Never a good thing,” I teased, taking his hand.

  “Ha, funny. Anyway, I’m thinking we should put some fouettes en tournant in the final bit of the choreography.”

  I paused, thinking about it, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I like that. Maybe instead of having the dancers in a straight line, we could do a sort of semi-circle, open it up. We’ve got the series of grand jetes right before. The fouettes could work.”

  Dante nodded in agreement, ideas flying across his face. “Let’s hit the floor, Madi, and try it out and see how it flows.”

  “Are the others here yet?” I asked, as he tugged me along.

  “Bri and Eddie are, Lisa should be in soon and the others will probably get here around ten. Have you eaten?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll get something later. I’m thinking about selling the house, Dante.”

&n
bsp; He stopped abruptly. My eyes were on his back, so crashing into him was averted. “You’re what? Why?”

  I shrugged, pulling my hand away. “Our cash flow for this place is getting tight, plus Aunt Cleo—”

  “Stop right there.” Dante held a hand up. “You are not selling your home, Madison DuMont. We’ll get the cash somehow, and I’m not letting you get played by your aunt again. Where would you live? Did you think of the costs of renting?”

  He was fuming. I chewed my lower lip and shrugged again.

  “It’s not happening, Madi. I’m your best friend, and I’m putting my foot down.”

  I grinned at his indignation. He was cute when he got mad.

  “That Kincaid dude called for you this morning,” he added as we resumed our trek to the changing rooms.

  “Really?” I smiled in delight. “Geoffrey’s lovely, isn’t he?”

  Dante let out a dry laugh. “He has an unusual fixation with you. Freaks me out. Not to mention he’s what? Fifty, maybe sixty?”

  I punched his shoulder lightly. “My dad was his friend. Geoffrey’s looking out for me. You weren’t complaining when he donated that cash last year for our Down the Rabbit-Hole production. Oh, no, Dante Emmanuel Palmer, you were, ‘Gee, thanks, Mr Kincaid. We’re so grateful.’ Honestly, I thought you would plant a big wet one on his lips.”

  “Shut up, training bra. Yeah, I said it. Don’t screw your mouth up at me or I will put you over my knee—ow! Madi. Stop punching me. Sorry, sorry.”

  I stopped hitting him. Training bra. It had been years since he called me that, almost twelve years. Douche.

  Laughing together we got changed, backs turned to each other, then hit the dance floor. It was almost five in the afternoon when we took a proper break. I went to the office to get my cell. Matt had called. Why did I pump my fist into the air like a jock on steroids? He left a brisk message, telling me he managed to clear his schedule and we would be leaving early Saturday morning. Pack a week’s worth of clothes and a bikini. Then he said, “Miss you, poppet.”