Dance: The Collected Series

by Charlotte Eve

  I can’t seem to think of a single thing to say, and I feel like some Barbie, sitting here silently in my fancy dress.

  “Sorry I’m so quiet,” I say as James clears away our desert plates, leaving us alone once more in the cavernous dining room. “To be honest I’m still a little weirded out by this whole arrangement. I mean, you do know this isn’t what us normal people do, right?”

  “I am fully aware that this is not what ‘normal people’ do,” he agrees. “However, I am not normal people, Julia. I don’t have time for a relationship ...”

  I take a sip of my wine, feeling kind of surprised at how honest and direct he’s being. Sure, what he’s saying might be kind of fucked-up, but at least he’s not trying to get me into bed by lies or manipulation. At least he’s being honest. Weird. I never thought I’d have anything in common with a guy who grew up in a huge house like this one, a guy who went to Ivy League colleges and has his own private jet. But what he’s saying? I agree with it, one-hundred percent. It’s everything I’ve ever said. Love is for losers. Relationships are a waste of time. You’ve got to focus on ‘doing you’ ...

  Maybe we’re both a little fucked up, eh?

  “Relationships are all about compromise, about meeting some of each other’s needs and demands, and conceding a little of your own,” he continues. “I do not have the time to meet someone else’s demands. Nor am I willing to concede anything I need. Why should I? I have my desires, and I get just what I want.”

  We lock eyes, and with these words it’s like something changes in the air between us. It’s on again. I can tell exactly what he’s thinking. He’s thinking: how do I get her undressed, as quickly as humanly possible ...

  Meanwhile, I’m thinking about my strategy. Sure, he’s drop-dead gorgeous and what girl wouldn’t want to fool around with him, but even so I need to stay clear-headed and focused. And one thing that never fails? Attack is the best form of defense. So I decide that I’m gonna make the first move. Oh yes. And when I’m done, he’s not going to know what the fuck just hit him ...

  So, as Dylan Campbell continues to talk, I slowly ease off my heels beneath the table, then begin to caress his inner thigh with my bare foot.

  “An arrangement like this?” he says. “Well, I guess it just makes much more sense to me ...”

  I can see from the look in his eye that I’ve got his attention. He knows exactly what I’m doing with my foot beneath the table – and what he thinks I want from him.

  He gulps, loosening his collar a little, then continues to speak.

  “We have a contract. A deal. I have bought your time for one week, but more importantly, what that buys for both of is clarity. No feelings are going to get hurt. You are not gonna cry because I forgot your birthday or turned up late to your friend’s dinner party ...”

  My plan’s working. I can tell from the low tightness of his voice that I’m getting him worked up, just like I want. Because I need to get him thinking about fucking me, long before he even knows he is. So I toss my hair over my shoulder, exposing the bare skin of my neck. And then I run my fingertips suggestively up and down my wineglass. It’s corny, but believe me, it works.

  All Dylan Campbell can think about right now is those same slender fingers caressing his cock.

  Meanwhile, I’ve worked my foot higher and higher up his leg, and when I finally push my toes right into his lap, just as I hoped, he’s already rock hard. I can feel that huge bulge radiating warmth through the fabric of his pants and I begin to work him with my toes, kneading him slowly and seductively. But this is only the beginning. I need to make sure this is all over before he’s even worked out what’s happening ...

  “But that said,” he continues, “I like to leave a woman satisfied. I have no doubt you’re going to enjoy your time here with me. And once this week is over, I can get on with my life and my business with a clear head and no other responsibilities ...”

  I work my foot even harder into his crotch, and we’re still playing this like a game. One where he’s pretending he hasn’t even noticed what I’m doing. You’d think that nothing whatsoever was happening beneath the table, the way he’s acting, except every now and again, I hear the sharp intake of his breath as I work my foot back and forth, back and forth, across his swelling crotch.

  “And of course you, Julia, will be very handsomely rewarded ...”

  Just then, he falls silent, the air between us pulsing, and when he moistens his lips with his tongue, it’s as if I can feel it gliding across my skin. I feel my nipples tightening and my clit throbbing, but I ignore the sensations as much as I can.

  Stay focused on him, Julia.

  It’s time for my special move – one of my dirty tricks.

  You see, the secret is to make it look like you want it – like you want nothing more than to be fucked, hard and fast, right here and now. So I push myself urgently to my feet, and then with a sweep of my hand I send our now-empty wine glasses crashing to the floor.

  Dylan gives me a what-the-fuck look for a moment, but in answer I climb up onto the table, spreading my legs for him and hitching my skirt up high around my waist, allowing him a perfect view of my panties.

  “Come and get me,” I say, my voice trembling a little. You might think this is part of the act too, but the truth is, I’m getting just as turned on right now as he is. That intense white heat is growing between my legs with every second and it’s like my whole body is crying out for him now, but even so I remain in control, keeping my wits about me as much as I can.

  He gives me this look, like a man who’s been walking in the desert for days and has just been offered a glass of water, his gaze moving over the bare flesh I’ve uncovered, fixing on the tiny pink panties that cover my aching wet pussy.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” he says, “right here, right now on this table ...”

  The moment he stands to join me, I pull him roughly on top of me, kissing him passionately and urgently, pushing my tongue deep in his mouth and running my fingers through his thick silky hair. Fuck. This feels so damn good – like the release I’ve been craving. But with each second we’re kissing, the intensity builds between us, and soon I’m worked up even more, moaning into his mouth as I feel his hand sliding confidently up my bare thigh, getting closer and closer to that burning wet place between my legs.

  The sensation brings me crashing back to reality.

  Focus, Julia, I tell myself again, knowing I need to take control of this situation again.

  So I begin to undress him. Pulling at his tie, then his jacket, then his shirt, like I’m unable to get the clothes off his body fast enough. I feel his shirt tearing and then a moment later I hear the buttons scattering against the cold marble floor of the dining room. Soon my hands have uncovered his body – his bronzed, sculpted chest, the rippling abs and flexing pecs, with just a fuzz of dark hair, dark as his eyes. And his hands are travelling all over my body, too, causing me to shiver and moan all over again.

  Fuck. There’s no time to waste. I’ve got to go in for the kill now. It’s now or never.

  So I unbutton his pants with trembling fingers, my hands finally enveloping the burning heat of his ... wow, okay, he’s even bigger than I guessed ... cock. Fuck. He feels so impossibly hard and thick between my fingers, like he’s been carved out of some kind of white-hot stone, and I shiver as I feel him grow even bigger and harder in my hands in response to my touch. We writhe urgently together, our bodies pushing back and forth against each other on the large dining table, and I’m using all of the strength in my dancer’s body to arch my back and flex my hips, to try and keep in control of this situation.

  I moan. I can’t help it.

  He’s pressed right against me now, grinding himself harder and harder, covering me with his body, his cock brushing against the sodden silk of my panties, his hands cupping my ass, spreading me wide, urging me to push against him like this, my back sliding against the dark polished wood of the dining table.

&nbs
p; And I’m unable to take that sweet delicious frustration any longer, knowing that I’m right on the brink of giving in and fucking him ...

  But instead, using all the remaining strength in my body, I pull us around, so that I’m the one on top of him, back in control again.

  His eyes widen with surprise; he obviously wasn’t expecting me to be half this strong.

  I’m on top of him now, gripping his cock firmly between my spread legs, jacking it with both hands, grinding against him like I’m on some kind of crazy bucking bronco ride, arching my back, rolling my hips, all the while the hot hardness of his shaft grazing back and forth against the lips of my pussy through the pink silk of my panties, stimulating my clit, each fresh movement of my hips sending another electric pulse of pleasure right the way through me, my pussy throbbing madly as his hands move to my breasts, cupping them as I ride him, faster and faster, dry humping him like there’s no tomorrow.

  “Your body is incredible, Julia,” he says. “I can’t wait to see all the things it can do ...”

  I lock eyes with him, knowing just how to send him over the edge.

  I bring his left hand to my mouth, sucking his middle finger seductively between my lips as if I wish it was his cock, and I let my eyes slowly close and a long low moan escape my lips. Sure enough, a moment later I feel him explode, his thick cock pulsing in my grip, the warmth of his come splashing against my bare thighs and flowing like nectar over my fingers.

  And now ladies and gentlemen my final trick ...

  “Oh?” I say, feigning disappointment as I look down between my legs at his still-hard, still-twitching cock.

  “Oh my God,” he says, flustered. “You really are talented ...”

  “You’d better believe it,” I reply sweetly, wiping my sticky fingers on his thousand-dollar slacks. “But don’t worry, there’ll be plenty more opportunities to take things further. Right now, though? I’m beat.”

  And with that, I lean down to give him a final chaste little kiss, then quickly and gracefully climb down from the table, pulling my dress back down around my thighs, leaving him lying there, undressed and disheveled. I reach beneath the table to grab my shoes, and with them swinging in my hand, I head for the door, turning around just before I leave to take a final glance at him, still lying there dazed, looking back at me as if to say, What the fuck just happened?

  “Just you wait,” he calls after me, a playful note in his voice, giving me the suspicion that he’s actually enjoying this little game. “Tomorrow night, you’re not going to get away quite that easily.”

  “I look forward to it,” I call back, as I head out the door, amazed that I’ve gotten away with this for the second night in a row.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I’m sitting in the bedroom, playing with a mountain of expensive shoes, and guess what? A life of luxury is not half as fun and fulfilling as I thought it would be. I’m even, dare I say it, kind of ... bored.

  Dylan is off at work, again, and I’ve been left to play Paris Hilton here at the mansion all day. I think I must have tried on almost every dress in the closet, and now I’m onto the shoes.

  As I pull on a pair of stilettos so huge they might as well be stilts, just to see if I can even stand up in them, I find myself wondering if we’re due for a repeat of last night when he gets home from work, and if so, what tricks I’m gonna have to pull this time.

  Last night was pretty easy, but when we first talked about the agreement, he also suggested he was into some pretty dark stuff – all that talk of me being his, ‘to do with as he pleased’. I just know I’m not gonna get away with my current antics for too much longer. I mean, I can’t just pull out the same old dry humping routine again tonight now, can I?

  I need time to think. But a nervous glance up at the clock tells me it’s almost time for him to get home. Fuck. I should have spent my day scheming and plotting, not playing dress-up like some silly kid.

  And just then there’s a knock on the door to my room.

  I’m expecting it to be James, with tonight’s instructions on what to wear.

  “Come in,” I call.

  I look up at the door; it’s not James. It’s Dylan himself.

  “Oh my God, it’s you,” I say, hurriedly pulling those stupid stilettos from my feet in embarrassment. “I, um, wasn’t expecting you yet ..”

  “Well don’t be too surprised,” he shoots back. “This is my house after all. I trust you’ve had a relaxing day?”

  “Relaxing?” I repeat. And I can’t believe what I’m about to say, because despite all this amazing luxury, am I actually about to ... complain? “That sure is one way to put it. Honestly, Dylan? This is great and all. Your beautiful house. Sitting by your amazing pool. Playing dress-up with thousands of dollars worth of amazing clothes. But in all honesty, I’m used to a little more life than this. Apart from James at breakfast, I haven’t spoken to another soul all day. You took away my cellphone, remember? I want some action.”

  “I’ll give you whatever you want,” he says suggestively. “Like I said last night, I enjoy satisfying a woman. So? Let’s do it. Anything you want.”

  “Really?” I say.

  He nods.

  “Okay then,” I say, getting to my feet. “What I really want is to go out dancing ...”

  §

  The club he takes me to – more of a grill and bar with a little dance floor in the back – is not my usual scene. It’s kind of quiet, the music’s kind of cheesy, and the clientele is just as snobby as I’d imagined they might be at a Rhode Island nightspot like this. But even so, I don’t care. Because I’m dancing. I’m moving my body in time to the beat ... and so is Dylan.

  God damn it, I didn’t expect it from a guy who seems to live most of his life in a suit, but this kid is a surprisingly good dancer!

  He moves with me, his body echoing mine, and even better: he knows when to take the lead. We’re dancing close, his body pressing against me. And wow. He’s radiating heat; that now-familiar intensity that I’m finding harder and harder to resist. I haven’t had this good a time dancing with anyone in ages – well, with a guy anyway. And I start to wonder what it would be like to actually fuck him – to really fuck him, to feel him inside of me, to feel that hot thick cock of his deep inside me ...

  I mean, really. What exactly have I got to lose? It’d be fun – he’s obviously experienced, a guy who dances this well just has to fuck well too. And like I said, a hundred thousand grand is gonna protect my future way more than my virginity ever could ...

  Come on, Julia, Focus!

  But I can’t. I want him, despite myself. I want him bad. But then I remember that just because you don’t go all the way, doesn’t mean you can’t have fun with a guy. Just because I signed that stupid contract, it doesn’t mean that Dylan’s the one in control. I’ve still got a few more moves, and if my plan works, he won’t even miss fucking me. Oh yes, I’m gonna enjoy myself tonight and I’m gonna make sure Dylan does, too ...

  It’s as if he reads my mind. Because just then, he whispers in my ear, “Had enough yet?”

  I nod.

  And wordlessly we leave the club.

  §

  Back in my room, we still haven’t said a word. I’m nervous but excited, too. This feels so fucking intense. Standing here facing each other in the dimmed lighting, we move towards each other and begin to kiss with the same urgent intensity as the way our bodies danced in the club. My hands are in his thick black hair, my tongue pushing deep into his mouth, while his hands explore my body, pulling my skirt up around my waist, pushing his leg between my thighs, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of my ass.

  God damn it, says my sensible side, once more raising its ugly head. This is all happening too fast. You need to slow down. You need time to think.

  Just then, he breaks away from me.

  “I’ve been thinking about your body all day,” he murmurs. “You’re a little tease, Julia. Making me take you out in public like that so you can
flaunt it. I had to watch you dance, knowing that I couldn’t just rip your clothes off and fuck you, right there on the dance floor ...”

  Then he turns, and I watch in confusion as he walks over and opens a drawer below the wardrobe that I hadn’t even noticed. When he comes back to me, he’s holding something behind his back. I wonder what.

  Oh God. What’s he planning?

  “Lie down on the bed,” he orders. “The time for teasing is over.”

  I have no choice; I just do as he says. I’m instantly his prey, stunned and caught in his talons.

  “Hold out your arms,” he commands.

  And again, I can’t help it, I do exactly as he says.

  From behind his back, he produces a length of black silk rope, and I realize exactly what he wants to do. But I can’t let that happen. No way. I need to be the one in control.

  “No,” I say firmly, my voice shattering the pulsing stillness, as I recognize a sneaky way out of this. “Let me,” I add with a suggestive raise of the eyebrow. “I want to tie you up.”

  He looks down at me with surprise, but also with curiosity.

  “Oh, I see,” he says, teasingly. “You like to be in control, do you?”

  I nod, my expression telling him silently that if he gives in, I promise he’ll enjoy this.

  “There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?” he says with a growl. “Well, in that case, I surrender, Miss Tate. Do your worst ...”

  With that, he drops the silk rope onto the crisp white sheets, then offers his wrists to me, the challenge blazing in his eyes.

  I push him hard, square in the chest, and he falls backwards onto the bed in surprise. I wonder if maybe this was a move too far, but nope -- he looks like he’s enjoying it. So I grab the silk rope and begin binding his wrists and then ...

  Fuck.