Dance: The Collected Series

by Charlotte Eve

  “God damn it, Julia,” he murmurs, his voice low and resonant, spreading his legs even wider and nodding at the impressive bulge between his legs. As if I could miss it. As if I could take my eyes off his beautiful cock. “Look how fucking hard you’re making me. I wish I could touch you.”

  “We both know that can’t happen, sir,” I say firmly.

  And don’t get me wrong. I wish he could touch me, too. I wish it more than anything else in the whole goddamn world. I wish he could run his hands over my breasts; oh God, the way he teases my bare flesh, the way he tweaks and thumbs my rock-hard nipples. And I wish I could push back against him, too, grinding my aching pussy against the hot hard bulge of his cock, because I’m so fucking ready for him right now, so wet. My clit’s throbbing so hard it hurts, and there’s only one medicine for this pain. I just need to feel him inside me.

  But that’s not able to happen, I remind myself, no matter how much we’re both pining for it.

  So instead, I do the best that I can, teasing open the top button of this oversize white shirt, exposing a tantalizing flash of cleavage beneath, all the while swaying my hips in time to the slow, sexy R’n’b song that’s filling the apartment. I let another button pop open, then another, so that the shirt opens wide enough for him to see that I’m not wearing a bra beneath it, wide enough for him to see just how damn hard my nipples are for him right now.

  He moistens his full lips with his tongue, leaning forward, eager to see even more of me, the bulge between his legs growing even larger.

  And then all of a sudden the screen crackles and he freezes and flickers.

  God damn it.

  I stop dancing and move towards my MacBook, urgently clicking on the connection button on the screen, hoping it’s just some temporary glitch and he’ll be back any moment. But no such luck. A moment later the Skype call disconnects completely, and Dylan’s image crackles into blackness.

  My heart sinks and I pull the shirt tightly around my body, hugging it to me; this oversize cotton dress shirt now my only physical connection to him – my only reminder of Dylan Campbell, who’s all the way on the other side of the fucking world.

  Just then my cell starts ringing. I check the display: Dylan calling.

  “Hey!” I say, answering, just so glad to hear his voice again. “That was so frustrating!”

  “Tell me about it,” he sighs, “the wifi in this place is terrible. I’ll have someone look into it, first thing.”

  “It’s okay,” I reply, trying my hardest to remain upbeat.

  “Listen, Julia, I’d better go,” he adds reluctantly. “My meeting’s about to start, and I promised I wouldn’t leave Alex alone with this one.”

  “Okay,” I sigh. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby. I can’t wait to see you for real on Saturday.”

  And then he hangs up the call, leaving me there alone in this apartment that just seems so huge and empty without him.

  I feel like crying, but I fight back the tears.

  It’s so damn frustrating.

  These calls are never enough, and I miss him like crazy. I love him so fucking much. And I just wish he wasn’t all the way in London.

  But I remind myself that I’ll see him again in just a few more days – just like his contract promised. And until then, I need to stay patient.

  §

  In the mean time, I guess I’d better catch you guys up on the last few months of my life, right?

  Well, it’s not all complaints, and that’s for sure. Sometimes I even have to pinch myself to check that I’m not dreaming, when I remember just how far I’ve come – and how different my life is these days to what it was say just one year ago.

  So the last few weeks, Dylan’s been in London setting up the UK office, along with Alex, who’s the head of European operations. From what I can gather, Alex sounds like a really nice guy, and I’m glad Dylan’s got a friend out there. It sounds like they’ve really been hitting it off. They’ve been meeting with major investors, signing off on projects, and hiring staff.

  And while ‘I’m moving halfway across the world’ isn’t exactly the words a girl dreams of hearing from her brand new BF, most boyfriends don’t own their own private jet, either.

  In the last four weeks, I’ve already been over to London twice, which is totally freaking crazy when I think about it. I mean, it took me practically eighteen years just to get out of New Jersey, and now I’ve been across the pond twice? A girl who, until a few months ago didn’t even own a passport?

  Like I said: pinch me.

  Oh, and London is absolutely amazing, too, even if it really does rain all the time. But Dylan always makes sure to book us into the finest hotels – the last time I visited it was a suite at the Dorchester – so I guess you could say we haven’t exactly done much sightseeing, if you know what I mean. But even the little I have seen of London so far – the streets, the squares, the quaint houses – well, it’s all just gorgeous. It looks like something out of Mary Poppins. And I kinda thought the food might be gross but actually we’ve been to some totally awesome restaurants, too, and I have to say, the food’s even better than New York, and I didn’t think that was possible!

  When Dylan first told me about the move to London I played it as cool as I could. But deep down, I reacted the same way anyone would – all the same things went through my mind. Like, is he gonna cheat on me? I mean, come on, have you seen Cara Delvigne? Some of those British supermodels are super hot. And how was our relationship going to survive long distance? It’s a well-known killer for even the most steady of relationships. And Dylan and I have only known each other a few months.

  So, to keep myself sane when I’m not with him, I’ve been mostly throwing myself into my dancing. The second term’s just started and Madame Lyon has really ramped up the pressure this time around, so I’m spending most of my hours at the Academy. But with Maurice Ryman gone for good I really don’t mind being there at all.

  And when I’m not dancing or seeing Dylan, it’s been good to catch up with Nat. Now she’s working regular hours teaching dance at The Rhythm Project, we can finally hang out a lot more.

  Anyway, I’m not too worried about Dylan being on his own in London. After all, he’s got Isabella to keep him company, too. She’s just moved over to London, to start her course at RADA. And typical to form, Bella seems to be breezing through life as if the whole world was turning just for her. She says she’s really loving school, hanging out with all these socialites – and no surprise, she’s found her way into the party scene immediately. But it also seems like she’s making good progress at school, too. And in her line of work (or so she says) you can bust your ass but unless you make the right kind of contacts it’s all for nothing. So by that logic, it’s actually important for her to go out partying (lol).

  So anyway, back to the present moment.

  Right now, I’m just counting down the days until Saturday comes around, and I’m excited as hell because this weekend, Dylan’s coming to see me, here at home.

  I mean, sure, I love London – its so beautiful, so sophisticated.

  But I also love us being here, together, in New York. I suppose this place just really feels like our city.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The moment I see him emerging onto the steps of the private jet, his glossy black hair ruffling in the breeze, his midnight blue suit so crisp and clean, his tanned skin glowing in the sunlight, well, it’s like my heart just stops.

  It’s another one of those ‘pinch me’ moments; when I wonder all over again if my life can get any better than this. I mean, right now, Dylan looks more like a movie star than a businessman, and I have to ask myself: Is this really happening? Is this smoking hot guy really here to visit me?!

  As if in answer to my question, the moment his big black eyes lock with mine, his face breaks into the hugest smile, perfect white teeth flashing, and then he hurries down the steps towards me. I’m running too, and we meet halfway on the la
nding strip in a heady whirl of emotions, Dylan sweeping me up off my feet, spinning me round in circles as he squeezes me tightly to him.

  “Oh baby, it’s so good to see you,” he murmurs into my neck, drawing me even closer to him.

  And when our lips finally meet, it’s like the rest of the world melts away for a moment. His lips crush against mine, his tongue flicking against my own, his hands moving into my hair, like he just can’t get enough of me. And I feel the exact the same way. Oh god, I’ve missed him so damn much.

  We break the kiss and he sets me back on my feet, then stands back to take a good long look at me, before drawing me into him in another kiss, this time soft and tender.

  “God, you smell so damn good,” he laughs, his hands cupping my face, his eyes searching out mine. “You know, I hate to admit it but I asked the chamber maids not to change the bedding for a week because I could still smell your perfume on the sheets,” he adds with an embarrassed grin.

  “I’m glad that there’s been some reminder of me while I’ve not been there,” I reply with a smile of my own. “It’s been driving me totally crazy in the apartment surrounded by all your things. It’s like you could walk in the door any second.”

  And I feel so pleased and relieved that he’s obviously been missing me just as much as I’ve been missing him; all my silly fears and worries that things might cool off between us are totally gone from my mind now.

  “Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand to lead me out to his car. “Let’s get out of here.”

  §

  Once we’re safely nestled in the plush tan leather interior of the limo, it’s like we can’t keep our hands off each other. After all, it’s been a whole week since I last saw him, and it feels like if I have to wait just one more damn second before I can touch him again I’ll explode. And on top of that, I can’t stop thinking about what I’m going to do once I get him alone, back at the apartment. You see, I’m planning to give him the IRL version of that lap dance – the one that was so annoyingly interrupted during our last Skype call.

  But wow – it seems like he’s even more impatient than me! As we kiss so hungrily, I can feel his warm hand sliding between my thighs, and I have to use all my willpower not to just give into him, right here in the back of the limo. I dart a nervous glance at the smoked glass barrier that separates us from the driver, and my fingers gently hold his hand by the wrist to stop it moving any further up my leg, towards the place between my legs that’s just aching for him now.

  “Just wait until we get home,” I murmur, my voice trembling a little, as I feel his other hand slip around my waist, too, drawing me in towards him.

  “Come on,” he replies playfully, nibbling my neck as he speaks. “I don’t think I can wait that long, Julia. And anyway ...”

  There’s a pause.

  “What?” I ask, pulling a little away from him to study his face. And from his unreadable expression, there’s obviously something he’s not telling me.

  “What is it?” I ask again, and when he doesn’t speak immediately my heart begins to pound.

  What’s wrong?

  “Well,” he sighs, sliding his hand away from my leg, and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I guess I have a little confession to make.”

  Oh God. No.

  For a moment my stomach flips and I’m imagining the worst things possible, like: he is having an affair – or no, wait – he’s grown tired of me and is breaking up with me altogether.

  “Please Dylan, just say it,” I urge, my heart booming and my voice shaking a little.

  “You gotta believe me, Jules,” he replies softly, “I wanted this weekend to be all about us, really I did. I mean, I wasn’t even going to tell my folks I was coming home. But the thing is ... well, Isabella blabbed, and so I’m afraid we’re meeting them for dinner at Le Lapin, in precisely forty-five minutes.”

  “Dylan! Why didn’t you tell me!” I reply, playfully swatting him on the shoulder. “I’m not even dressed for dinner,” I add with a sigh, gesturing down at my outfit: a simple black trouser suit with an orange silk t-shirt and ballet flats (I’ve been dancing all day and my feet are freaking killing me).

  But despite the fact that I’m pretending to be annoyed (not to mention the fact that it is pretty damn frustrating that I’ll have to wait a little longer to get him alone in our apartment) most of all, I’m just secretly relieved that it’s nothing more serious than having dinner with his folks.

  “I know, the whole thing is really annoying,” he adds. “I’m really sorry. I only found out myself. But don’t worry about your outfit. You look amazing, as always. You’re dressed just fine, baby. And I promise, when we get home tonight I’ll more than make it up to you.”

  “Okay,” I sigh.

  I’ve been fantasizing for weeks about tearing his clothes off. But I guess after a whole damn week, I can wait just a few more hours.

  “Thanks for being so understanding,” he smiles, leaning in towards me again, his hand once more sliding over my thigh. “So anyway, what d’you say we make the most of our remaining time alone together?”

  “Oh, no no no!” I laugh, grabbing his wrist again and moving his hand away from my thigh altogether.

  Because now that I’ve decided to wait a little longer, I’m determined to make him sweat too.

  §

  “So, Julia, this Eldridge dance academy. Is it ... prestigious?” Gloria asks over dinner, arching a carefully-plucked eyebrow, her signature pearls gleaming on her neck, her whole style so refined and elegant it just makes me hope I can stay half as well-kept by the time I reach her age.

  “It’s, um, pretty good,” I reply, deciding it’s probably not that polite to boast.

  But it seems like Dylan has a different idea.

  “It’s the best in the whole city, Mom,” he cuts in. “If not the country. And Julia got in on a scholarship, too.”

  “Very good, very good,” Gloria murmurs to herself, nodding. “And your parents, are they still together?”

  At this I shake my head. “My mom died when I was little,” I explain.

  “Oh dear,” she says. “I am truly sorry to hear that.”

  “Gloria, my dear,” Bailey adds, slamming his hand on the table for comical effect, “leave the girl alone and drink your goddamn Manhattan. This isn’t a job interview!”

  We all laugh, but secretly I’m relieved that he said something. Because even though they’re here to see their son, it feels like I’m the main attraction tonight. Gloria’s been grilling me all evening: where I was born, where I went to school, what I hope to do in the future.

  And as the conversation turns to something else – to Dylan’s work establishing Campbell Finance in London – I sit back in my chair, able to take a moment to really drink in the amazing surroundings. I’d heard about this restaurant before, from Bella, but seeing it in the flesh, it’s even more wonderful than I’d imagined. If you didn’t know you were in New York, you could be forgiven for thinking you were in the heart of Paris: the room has these awesome, gold-painted arched ceilings, and the sparkling chandeliers and flickering candles and general low lighting give the large room a surprisingly cozy, intimate feel, too.

  As my gaze moves from the amazing decor back to Dylan, he catches my eye and gives me a playful little wink, as if to say: Just you wait until later.

  I widen my eyes, hoping his parents didn’t catch him giving me such an obvious signal.

  But a moment later, when I realise they’re not looking our way, I add a subtle smile of my own, too, as if to say: Oh boy, you have no idea.

  §

  “You know the rules,” I say, a couple of hours later. “No touching the dancer, unless she asks you to. Got it?”

  Dylan nods from his seat, but the burning look in his eyes tells me he’s going to find this a very difficult challenge.

  I suppress a smile as I turn my back to him, to set the music playing, bending forward just enough to give him a glimpse of my ass, bef
ore straightening up again, the sexy music flooding the room.

  “So, that million dollars,” I purr as I stalk towards him. “Would you still pay that much to see my panties come off?”

  “You fucking know I would,” he growls, his voice taut with desire as he shifts a little in his chair, spreading his legs wider, the delicious bulge of his cock telling me he’s already getting a little worked up.

  I lean in towards him, resting my hands on his muscular thighs and bringing my face towards his, so that our lips are almost touching, before quickly pulling away again. His hands move to my sides for a moment, under the shirt, slipping upwards over my tingling skin and making a beeline towards my breasts, but even though I’ve been craving his touch for so long I grab him by the wrists and pull his hands away away.

  “Hey! You know the rules. Only I can touch you.”

  His eyes flash with a mixture of frustration and enjoyment; it’s clear he’s getting even more turned on, the more he’s denied what he wants. After all, I know more than anyone just how much Dylan Campbell likes to be teased, and another glance down towards his lap tells me he’s dying for me now.

  I can make out the clear outline of his thick hard cock, pressing against the inside leg of his suit pants. And to get him even more worked up, I turn my back to him once more, this time slowly and sensually grinding my ass against him, feeling the sheer heat of his hardness of his cock as it brushes between my legs, grazing against the silk of my panties, sending an electric shiver through me.

  God, I’m so fucking ready for him.

  But still I hold off, working his cock with my ass as I steady myself once again on his muscular thighs, all the while teasing him, feeling him ever grow harder and hotter between my legs, the heat flashing against my pussy.