Dance: The Collected Series

by Charlotte Eve

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Am I dreaming? No, seriously, am I? Because here I find myself, in a beautiful five-star hotel room, in one of the most romantic cities in the world, with one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever laid eyes on sleeping soundly by my side. And to top it all off, there’s the hugest diamond ring on my finger, too.

  I lie here in bed, suddenly totally awake, grinning from ear to ear, and trying my hardest not to squeal the entire hotel down with excitement and happiness.

  I don’t want to wake Dylan; after all, he looks so cute and adorable, still fast asleep next to me. So I just lie here, admiring my ring for the millionth time and smiling to myself, occasionally stealing little glances at him – at the strong chiseled line of his jaw, at his perfect body, at his thick, glossy black hair.

  Just then, he starts to stir. He turns towards me and draws me close in a big warm embrace, and as his strong arms wrap around me, I’m reminded all over again just how tiny and fragile I seem, compared to his huge frame. And I feel protected and warm and safe and loved, all at once.

  “Good morning,” he mumbles.

  “Pinch me,” I whisper back.

  “Huh?” he says, still kinda sleepy and confused.

  “Pinch me,” I repeat.

  “Well, it’s a little early in the morning for that kind of thing,” he laughs, waking up now. “But okay, if you want!”

  And with that he starts running his hands playfully over my body, tickling and pinching me gently.

  “No! No!” I giggle, squirming free. “What I meant was, I must be dreaming, right? All this, it just can’t be real, can it?”

  He turns to me and cups my face in his big strong hands. “Julia,” he says, those dark eyes burning with honesty and sincerity, “we’re so lucky to find each other. It’s a one in a billion chance. But it’s real. I feel like I’m really myself with you. I’ve never felt this way before. Not with anyone. I thought that I wasn’t made for all of this – for love, for marriage, for commitment. And then I met you, and I realized just how wrong I was about myself. You’ve made me see the man I can become, Julia. I know it seems quick, but being away from you like this, over here? I don’t want to wait any longer. We’ve had an ocean between us for too long, and I want you to be my wife, right here by my side.”

  “Oh Dylan,” I say, resting my head on his chest and gripping him tightly. “I love you so much, but I never even allowed myself to imagine that we might get married. I felt so lucky just to have you at all. I didn’t dare to even daydream about the future. I’m glad you don’t want to wait. Because I don’t wanna wait either.”

  I lie on my back and giggle.

  “I just feel so lucky!” I laugh, unable to contain my excitement any longer. “How can one girl be so damn lucky?!”

  “Well, what’s not so lucky,” Dylan replies, “is that I’m afraid your flight is in less than three hours time.”

  Bam.

  Reality hits me like a ton of bricks.

  This is no fairy tale. Because in fairy tales, princesses never have to leave their handsome princes and go back to school on the other side of the world.

  “That’s so unfair!” I sigh. “On today of all days! I want to spend today with you, my new fiancé.”

  The word feels so strange as I say it, I can’t help but smile.

  “Can’t I just stay another day?” I plead, begging him with my eyes, my hands, my whole being. “It’s your private jet, after all! Can’t you just tell them to wait another day?”

  “Oh, believe me, baby,” Dylan laughs, “there’s nothing I want more than that either, but I promised myself I was never going to compromise your schooling, your dream, just for my own selfish desires. So, like it or not, I’m afraid you’re getting on that plane. That being said,” he adds with a playfully arched eyebrow, “we’ve still got some time left together, and I for one intend to make the most of it.”

  With this he climbs up and over me, straddling me, reaching out and taking both my wrists, pinning them effortlessly either side of my head. And as I look up at him, at his gorgeous rugged face and perfect chiseled body, I want him so badly right now it feels almost like pain.

  I want all of him, all at once. I want to kiss him and squeeze him and lick him. But right now, with a playful smile, it seems like he’s deciding that he’s the one in charge.

  He grins as he holds me in place, his muscular body covering my own slight frame. And as he keeps my hands pinned above my head, he leans in, first nuzzling my neck with soft tender kisses, before the kisses become playful nips and bites, trailing downwards towards my breasts.

  I moan as he takes a nipple between his teeth, holding it for a half-second before rolling his tongue around it, coaxing even more pleasure from my tender stiffening bud. Then he moves his kisses even further downwards, letting go of my wrists as his sensuous lips trace over my belly then between my thighs. I spread my legs wide for him, my own fingers slipping into his thick silky hair, loving its softness as I wind it tightly in my grip, preparing myself for.

  “Oh fuck,” I moan, as I feel his tongue lap against my clit, just how I like it.

  He does it again, and again, and again, each slow sensuous movement coaxing fresh moans from my lips and shivers of delight from my trembling body, and all I can do is hold on tight for the ride, my hands buried in his hair and my legs spread, as he begins to plunder my pussy with his tongue, fucking me with his mouth, the sweet pain of his stubble grazing against the soft flesh of my inner thighs just adding to the deliciousness of it all. And as I get closer and closer, I start to buck my hips and arch my back too, riding his face hard as he licks and laps, teasing my clit then plunging his tongue deep inside me. I come hard and fast with a final cry, my body shaking and my mind splintering and foggy with pleasure.

  He climbs up and over me again, a proud smile on his face now, and when we kiss I can taste my own sweetness on his lips, on his tongue.

  I shiver beneath him, reminded again by just how big – how powerful, how built – he is, covering me like this. Once again, he takes my wrists and pins them above my head, knowing how much I enjoy the way he takes control – so strong and confident, holding me firmly in place beneath him, his rock-hard cock almost grazing against my opening but just maddeningly out of reach.

  “Please, Dylan,” I gasp. “I need you inside me.”

  “How badly do you need it?” he replies, his voice tight with desire, his eyes flashing with lust. “How badly do you need my cock?” And as he speaks, he reaches down with his left hand while keeping both my wrists pinned with his right. Very slowly and deliberately he begins to tease my clit with the hot head of his cock, working me in sensuous circles, then tracing himself up and down my swollen wet pussy lips.

  “Oh god,” I murmur, half mad with desire. “I need it so fucking badly. I love your cock so much.”

  “Well in that case,” he replies, guiding himself inside me.

  He enters me slooooooowly, so slowly I moan and shiver – each hot thick inch of him stretching me wider, filling me deeper, and I wrap my legs around him, wanting him to fuck me hard now – hard and fast and deep.

  “God, that’s it,” I gasp, as he pulls out then slams his cock back into me, the angle of his hips causing him to hit a sweet spot that has me moaning and trembling like never before. “Oh, Dylan, I think I’m about to ...”

  But I can’t even say the word.

  As my orgasm takes me by surprise, he releases his grip on my wrists and I wrap myself tight around him, arms and legs, pulling him hard against me, my body shuddering.

  “Come for me, baby,” I whisper, as soon as I can speak again.

  And a moment later he does, his beautiful body tensing and stiffening, burning with heat as he growls, finally letting go – his cock pulsing deep inside me.

  Afterwards, we lie back, flushed and happy on top of the rumpled sheets, and I trace my fingers lazily through the cropped black fuzz of hair that grows
between his sculpted pecs.

  The morning sunlight streams through the windows and I sigh with total happiness and contentment. Everything’s just perfect. Then I remember. Again. The clock’s still ticking, and it’s even sooner until I have to leave him now.

  No, just another five minutes. Please?

  But as if to confirm my worst suspicions, he turns and murmurs softly, “I guess you’d better go.”

  But I’m not going down without one last fight. So I prop myself up on my elbow and look at him with a mock-serious expression.

  “Come on, let’s be realistic here,” I tease. “No self-respecting businessman has a wife who needs to work for a living, right? I mean, what will all your friends and colleagues say when they find out? You’ll be the talk of the town!” I put on a fake-snobby accent as I add, “Dylan Campbell can’t afford to keep his wife in the lap of luxury. What kind of a man is he?”

  Dylan just laughs and shakes his head. “I can see where you’re going with this, but ...”

  “Good!” I interrupt him, fluttering my eyelashes like a real Southern Belle. “Then we’re both agreed? I’ll give up my studies and become your trophy wife!”

  His smile gets wider.

  “Is that really what you want?” he laughs. “Sitting around the house all day, shouting at the staff? I don’t think so. I know you, Jules. You’d be bored out of your damn mind within minutes!”

  In a final, last ditch attempt to convince him I’m serious, I put on my best Scarlet O’Hara accent as I say, “That Dylan Campbell, he’s not a real man. His wife needs to work, poor thing!”

  “Oh that’s it!” he laughs, pushing himself up and on top of me, catching me by surprise as he wraps me in his arms and steals a playful kiss from my lips.

  “I’ll show you just how manly I am,” he growls.

  He kisses me again, this time on my neck, positioning himself between my legs, and I feel just how ready he is to go again: the animal heat of his rock-hard cock grazing deliciously against the tender skin of my inner thigh.

  I sigh and tremble beneath him, opening my legs, yielding to him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside me -- again. And he’s reaching between my legs, working my clit with his thumb, before brushing my opening with the swollen head of his cock.

  He’s just about to slip inside me, when the moment is totally shattered by a sound neither of us wants to hear: the annoying insistent buzz of his cell phone, vibrating away on the bedside table.

  He pauses, darts a glance at it, then looks down at me with an apologetic expression.

  “That’ll be Alex,” he explains. “I’d better take it, and you’d better get packed.”

  “Sure,” I reply, trying not to let my disappointment show too much, masking my frustration behind an understanding smile.

  He pushes himself off me to take the call, and as he turns away I flop back onto the sheets with a sad sigh, knowing that it’s time to say goodbye. Again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As I walk up the familiar run-down street towards my dad’s house in New Jersey, I can’t help but feel nervous. Just like always. Because each time I visit him, I don’t know quite what I’m about to find. Sometimes he’s worse: drinking again, forgetting to take even basic care of himself and the house, maybe even asking me for money. And other times he’ll be a little better – trying his damndest to make a fresh start at things, even though deep down we both know that it never really lasts.

  But today? Well, today things actually feel kind of different. Even before I quite reach the door to his house, something tells me that things might have actually taken a turn for the better. For a start, the lawn’s actually looking mown for the first time in, well, ever. And wait, are the curtains actually drawn in the windows even though it’s well before midday? To top things off, the porch is looking swept – none of the usual empty beer cans and cigarette butts strewn about on the dusty floorboards outside his front door.

  Wow, I think. Maybe he’s actually taking real care of himself!

  I knock on the door, and it’s another encouraging sign. The wood’s been sanded down and there’s a fresh coat of paint, so for the first time in years I’m not worried about getting splinters just calling round to see him. Then I wait a nervous few seconds for him to answer, and when he does, my face breaks out into the hugest smile.

  “Daddy!” I gasp, the relief sweeping through me. “Wow! You’re looking really good!”

  And he totally is. He’s had a fresh haircut, and I think those are new clothes, too. Even his eyes look brighter, shining out from his cleanly-shaven face like two bright blue jewels. I can’t believe that this is the same man I saw just a few months ago, so haggard and drawn and grey; too depressed to even fix himself a simple cup of coffee.

  “Come on in, Duckie!” he smiles. “I’ve got coffee on the stove if you’d like a cup?”

  I follow him inside, and then look around me in awe at the living room. Just like the outside of the house, the inside is totally transformed, too: clean and tidy, even dare I say it, homely for once.

  “Wow, Dad. I’m really impressed!” I call through to the kitchen where he’s fixing our coffees. “The house is looking great!”

  “Now don’t speak too soon,” he chuckles. “The kitchen isn’t quite as spotless as the last time you cleaned it. I’m still not the greatest at all that domestic stuff, but I realized that you were right. It was time to start taking a little pride in myself.”

  I stroll through to the kitchen and we both take a seat at the little table by the window, sipping our coffees. I can hardly wait to tell him my news, and so far, despite the totally obvious way I’m drinking my coffee with my left hand, the huge diamond sparkling away in the sunlight, he still doesn’t seem to have noticed. Typical man! So when he finally smiles and asks me, “How have you been, Junebug?” well, I just can’t hold it in any longer.

  “I’m getting engaged, Daddy!” I blurt out in a rush of emotion.

  “Sweetie, that’s wonderful,” he replies, his eyes brimming with pride as he pushes himself up from the table and comes around to give me a big old hug. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

  “His name’s Dylan, Dad,” I gush, “and he’s just perfect, really he is. It sounds silly, but he’s The One, for sure.”

  “I knew he would be,” Dad laughs in reply. “You’ve always been so strong, so independent. You always knew exactly what you wanted. Hell, I used to watch all those neighborhood boys mooning over you, but I just knew they never stood a chance. I knew my little princess was waiting out for her Mr Perfect.”

  “Thanks, Daddy,” I say softly, so glad that things are good between us for once.

  “But this?” he says gesturing to his coffee cup. “This is no good. My princess tells me she’s engaged and we’re sitting around drinking coffee? Hell no! We’ve gonna have ourselves a real celebration. I don’t keep booze in the house anymore, but let me take you out to Charlie’s and buy you a real drink. Besides, all the guys will be there, and I want to show my little girl off to the whole wide world!”

  §

  Charlie’s Tavern hasn’t changed in years. Seriously. They should put this whole place in a museum. Every inch of it seems just the same as the last time I set foot in it – which must be at least ten years ago – and I’m guessing as long as it stays open it’ll always be this way.

  Dad buys us two beers, and after introducing me to a few of the regulars at the bar – some of them remember me when I was just a little kid, coming in to drag my Daddy home to dinner – we take a seat in a beat up old booth in the farthest corner.

  Practically the moment we sit down, I start telling Dad all about Dylan. I just can’t help it. I’m so proud and excited, and I want him to know absolutely everything. Sure, he’s already assured me that if I’ve chosen him, he just has to be the right guy for me. But even so, I need him to know just what a great guy Dylan Campbell is: how kind, how thoughtful, how driven. Not to mention how he finds out all the l
ittle things about me that I love and does them just to make me happy, like getting me tickets to the ballet, and going to a whole different borough just to get me the sushi I’m craving. And when I’m finished singing Dylan’s numerous praises, sure enough Dad looks seriously impressed.

  “Wow, he sounds like one real classy dude!” Dad laughs.

  Classy?

  And that’s when it dawns on me. ‘Cause fine, I can tell him until the cows come home just how great and funny and kind Dylan is, but how in the hell do I say to a guy like my dad, a guy who grew up on the freaking shipyards, that my fiancé is a billionaire?

  That’s a whole other conversation for a whole other time, I decide. But even so, I’d better sow a few seeds, just so it’s not a total shock when the truth comes out.

  So I drop a few not-so-subtle clues, telling Dad how he has an Ivy League education, and that his parents have got a house in Rhode Island and an apartment in New York. But I decide leave out all the other houses, too (not to mention the private jet).

  “You know what, Duckie?” Dad says shyly, once we’ve exhausted the topic of Dylan. “I’ve got a little news of my own. You’re old man’s met someone too!”

  “Really?” I gasp in total amazement. “After all these years?”

  “Uh-huh,” he nods happily. “It’s still early days but I think you’re gonna like her. She’s a real swell girl. And guess what, she’s a nail technician!”

  He gestures down at my nails, which aren’t looking quite so hot as they usually do.

  “I’m sure she could fit you in for a session,” he smiles. “But anyway, enough about me. This is your celebration, Julia. And it’s your guy I’m excited to meet! So? When am I going to meet my new family?”

  And that’s when it dawns on me.

  If I’m really getting married, then my family is going to have to meet the Campbells aren’t they? Gloria and Bailey and Isabella and Spencer.