Mary hugged me, pulling pins out of her mouth.
“Sweetheart, I’m so happy for you,” she said in a low voice. “I couldn’t be prouder.”
“Then Ma, why are you crying?” I asked. “It’s going to be awesome.”
She raised one withered hand to stroke my cheek, tilting that gray-haired head.
“My baby girl is growing up, that’s all,” she said softly. “You’re flying the nest. But it’s time,” she said to herself sternly. “You’re seventeen now, and this was always going to happen. You’re talented Kitty, and I’m so proud of you.”
I threw myself into her arms then, burying my face in her shoulder.
“You’ll be fine here, Mom. And I’ll call, okay? We can always talk on the phone, and there’s the internet too. We can video chat. Doesn’t that sound cool?”
I didn’t think Mary was going to be able to figure out how to use the camera on her phone, but maybe, just maybe, she could figure out WhatsApp or FaceTime.
“Video calls do sound wonderful,” she said softly, murmuring into my hair. “Seeing your pretty face on camera will be amazing. And I want you to have a good time in the big city. I want you to knock the socks off all those big-city folks because you’re good enough, Kitty. They’ll adore you, the same way I do.”
I’d sniffled then, sad to leave my mom. But again, the scholarship was like a gift from the heavens, and I couldn’t wait to leave. I couldn’t wait to see the bright lights of the big city, to train with the best instructors, to work with the best ballerinas and to be spun around by the most talented male dancers.
Except that I’ve been in NYC for three months now, and it hasn’t exactly worked out according to plan. I practice with the corps for sure. I’m surrounded by dancers day in and day out, but it hasn’t been easy. A lot of the other girls are really competitive and mean, and their words are like daggers coated in honey.
My heart dropped when the queen bee of the group, Megan, strolled into the studio early one morning. It was just the two of us so far, and bowing my head once more in a stretch, I tried not to look at her, focusing on the floor.
But no such luck. Immediately, Megan dropped her bag in the corner and turned to face me.
“Kitty, did you put on weight?” she asked, voice as sweet as sugar. “Looks like you’re having a little trouble there.”
In answer, I tilted forwards even more, hiding my face. Because the truth is that I’ve always struggled with being heavy. Ballet dancers are supposed to be whip thin, but I’m on the curvy side. I’ve got real tits, a real ass, and thighs that are strong and sensuous, and not the gristle and bone that a lot of professional dancers have.
I gritted my teeth where Megan couldn’t see.
“No, I haven’t,” I replied in a low voice. “I’m the same as always.”
But Megan couldn’t be deterred.
“Really?” she asked in an arch voice. “There’s definitely some jiggle there. Have you been eating cheeseburgers again?”
My face flamed as I stared blindly at the floor, fighting the urge to hit her, or cry. God, why did people in New York City have to be so mean? Why did this girl have to be so awful? Why did we have to be the only ones in the studio this early in the morning, warming up? I cursed, eyes flooding with hot tears, but made myself keep it together.
“No, I haven’t eaten a cheeseburger since last week in the cafeteria, thank you very much,” I said in a low voice, standing to look her in the eye. “And besides, it wasn’t a cheeseburger because you know the cafeteria doesn’t serve stuff like that. It was a turkey burger made from lean meat, and it was very healthy.”
Megan sniggered, her eyes going up and down my body like it was a garbage dump.
“Well it must have been the cheese then,” she giggled nastily. “I swear I saw you chowing down on a burger oozing with cheddar, and that shit’s full of fat. Real ballet dancers don’t eat dairy,” she said with a huff, spinning on her heel.
At that moment, other dancers began entering the studio, chatting and talking, interrupting us. Of course, Megan was all smiles, greeting our seniors.
“Hi Anna! Hi Rebecca!” she called to the prima ballerinas. “Hi … oh!” came her gasp.
I didn’t want to look because there were tears in my eyes still and I fought to make them stay down. I didn’t want anyone to know how Megan had just body-shamed me, and how ugly and disgusting she made me feel. So swallowing thickly, I made myself take a deep breath. I wasn’t going to be a loser. I was here to make the most of the big city, and Megan wasn’t going to win.
But when I looked up, I too gasped because standing there was the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Thick black hair dropped over penetrating blue eyes, topped with a strong square jaw and straight nose. But it was the man’s physique that made my mouth go dry. He wore a black suit, but the loose fabric couldn’t hide the body of a former dancer, perfectly balanced and symmetrical. This awesome specimen was toned and athletic, with muscled thighs and strong arms, perfect for lifting girls in the air.
Trust Megan to know power when she saw it because she moved towards the man like a magnet drawn to a pole.
“Hi!” she simpered, throwing that blonde hair back flirtatiously. “Hi, you’re Mr. Lyons, right? You’re the CEO of NYC Academy?”
Oh shit, this was Mr. Lyons? The Luke Lyons? Every ballet troupe is artistic, sure, but at the same time, it’s a corporation just like any other. There are bills to pay, with employees, human resources, accounting and publicity. The wheels have to turn for the business to run, and Mr. Lyons is in charge of it all.
But he’s right for the job because once upon a time, Luke Lyons was a dancer himself. But he got injured and quit ballet, turning to Wall Street instead. That savvy mind and sharp instincts made a fortune in finance within a couple years, and the man is rolling in it now. But the alpha’s first love was always ballet, and eventually he came back to dance, assuming the helm of CEO.
So yeah, he was technically our boss. Or more accurately, he’s our boss’s boss’s boss’s boss, a guy so high up in the sky that we couldn’t even see.
But Megan was having none of that. She skipped over and shot the billionaire a flirtatious smile.
“Hi,” she breathed. “Mr. Lyons, it’s such a pleasure to have you here this morning. Are you going to observe our practice?”
The big man took in that lithe, svelte form with neutral blue eyes.
“Sure am,” he rumbled, voice low and sexy. “I always check out the new dancers. I’m here to see the girls who just joined.”
Megan giggled, and it was a little crazy-sounding if you asked me.
“Oh that’s me!” she simpered, raising one hand. “I’m part of the new class! We started about three months ago.”
The dark man nodded, face still impassive.
“We had a couple girls join,” he rumbled, surveying the studio. “So I’m excited to see you guys perform.”
My heart began pumping. Oh my god, he was here to watch us especially? Me, Megan, Tracey and Carrie? Oh my god, oh my god, I had to do well. I absolutely had to make a good impression in front of the boss.
And at that very moment, Miss Lane clapped her hands.
“Girls, girls! Since Mr. Lyons is here to observe, let’s not keep him waiting alright? Let’s bring our newest dancers out to perform. Come on ladies!”
Heart pumping furiously, I stepped towards the center of the studio along with Megan and the others. Oh god, we were going to be dancing in front of everyone: prima ballerinas, senior staff, and most of all, him. This dark man had me so pumped, excited and trembling inside that I could barely focus. I took my place next to the others, us four girls in a line. My heart beat crazily, almost bursting from my chest.
And then the music began to play. Like all dancers, I can feel sounds in my bones, the music does something to me that’s hard to describe. It lifts me, it soothes me, and it brings me to life in a way that’s electric and yet gentle at once. As the
strains of the piano began, I let it take me away.
My knees bent in a soft plié, arms raised over my head in a graceful arch. The girls next to me were doing the exact same steps, but they melted into a haze as I threw myself into the routine. Slowly, my arms came down and then I burst into a series of pirouettes, each one faster than the last, head whipping around once, twice, and then three times, always fixed on the same point across the room.
As my feet stepped and scissored, a certain person added even more vibrancy to my dance. It was Luke Lyons. Those penetrating blue eyes traveled over in every inch of my body, from my curved toes to the tips of my fingers. They scalded my soul, missing nothing, and made me reach for the heavens, and then past the heavens and to the stars themselves.
Because the alpha’s a true master. Luke knows dance better than most professionals; the billionaire’s never left the art behind even though he wears a suit most days now. His gaze ravished me, urging me higher and higher, our souls touching as I danced, prancing and pirouetting, each gesture, each move meant just for him. It was as if there were only two of us in the studio, all else melting into a haze of nothingness.
And suddenly, it was over. The music stopped with one last chord, and we four girls stood once more in a line, our feet poised in first position, breasts heaving with exertion. Applause burst out.
“Bravo! Bravo!” came the cheer of the crowd. “Well done!”
I blushed prettily, bowing my head. Oh god, had that really just happened? Had I completely lost my mind, dancing for the eyes of Luke Lyons? Had I thrown myself into the music, imbuing each movement with my heart and soul while wearing my emotions on my sleeve? Oh god, I’d probably humiliated myself in some unknown way.
Because after the applause died, I snapped out of my dream state, and the world was oddly normal. People stood in small groups chatting and laughing, while a couple dancers warmed up at the barre.
And as for Mr. Lyons, it was like he didn’t even know me. When I raised my head to steal a glance, he was turned in profile, chatting with one of the prima ballerinas, smiling at something she said. Had it been my imagination? Had the electric shocks running between us been pure illusion, nothing but a teen girl’s dreams?
Unfortunately, probably so because Luke didn’t bother to come over and talk. In fact, he didn’t acknowledge any of the junior troupe who’d just put on a show. He merely chatted with the senior dancers, touching base with Miss Lane before moving to the door, that big body massive and imposing. Oh god. My heart dropped to the floor. I really was a nobody. I thought there was a connection, but clearly that was nonsense.
Why would there be something? the voice in my head scolded. You’re an eighteen year-old newbie. You think he’s never seen one of you before? Get real. Girls come to NYC every year with hopes of making it big. You’re nothing special, Kitty.
I swallowed heavily, hanging my head. That was true - it wasn’t like I was a superstar or anything. I just happened to be the star of the day. Forget that. I was one of the stars of the day because there were four of us dancing in sync, and I’d been part of the group. So yeah, it had all been my imagination.
Swallowing heavily, slowly I changed my shoes, putting on a different pair of slippers as Miss Lane called us to order once more.
“One, two, three, one, two, three,” she chanted, leading the dancers through warm-ups as the piano plunked away. My muscles did all the motions, blood circulating normally, but my head was in the clouds. Because despite my best efforts, I couldn’t focus. Luke Lyons’s face kept reappearing in front of my eyes, distracting me from what I loved most in the world.
Kitty, came the voice in my head. You have to stop this. You can’t let a man hold you back from your dreams. You have to focus, focus, focus. You have a scholarship and it’s not going to last forever.
Right. So I pushed the distractions out of the way and danced, putting my all into the practice session.
But when we finally stopped for a break, I was never so grateful. Retreating into a corner, I grabbed my water bottle, taking a sip as Miss Lane walked over. Oh god, what was she going to say? That I’d acted really weird during this morning’s performance? That my warm-up moves were off, my body disconnected from my head? Ballet teachers don’t hesitate to chew you out, even if it’s in front of the crowd. Cowering inside, I waited for the hail of words to descend.
But instead, Miss Lane’s expression was curiously neutral, her voice detached.
“Kitty,” she murmured. “Mr. Lyons has asked to see you in his office this afternoon.”
I stared at her blankly.
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me. Mr. Lyons has specifically requested a meeting with you. Three p.m.,” she said blandly. “I trust you know where his office is? Don’t be late.”
And with that, the woman glided away, leaving me dumbfounded. Why would the billionaire want to see me? Why would he want to talk with a girl who’d just joined his troupe not three months ago? I was nothing. I was less than a dust mite, just a shadow in the wings.
But then again, maybe he had felt it. Maybe it hadn’t been my imagination. Those blue eyes had seared my body, touching everywhere while caressing my belly, my nipples, and that sweet space between my thighs. Maybe, just maybe, Mr. Lyons had felt the magic … and suddenly, I couldn’t wait to find out.
2
Luke
Who had that girl been? The curvy one, the one with the ripe tits and soft, plush ass? Because most of the girls in the troupe are undersize. They’re gristly and sinewy, like a chicken soaking wet. Don’t get me wrong because these chicks can kick holes in fences. They’re endurance athletes. But ballet favors a certain body type, and that’s scrawny.
It’s too bad because I hate skeletons with spindly legs and bony arms. Sure, I appreciate dance but does it always have to be performed by ballerinas who weigh no more than eighty pounds wet? What happened to soft, plush girls with sweet smiles and lush curves? That’s what I like.
As a result, the girl this morning caught my eye not just because she had a body unlike the others, but because she danced with an energy all her own. The brunette threw herself into the music, swaying this way and that, arching beautifully. She was a prima ballerina in the making.
Sure, she was doing all the same moves as the other girls because they were performing a routine. But this female stood out. The way her body arced and curved gave her a magical aura.
And shit, but I ate it up. It’s been a long time since I saw something this amazing. It’s been a long time since any dancer has made my body and soul come awake. But this female did it, and when those big brown eyes met mine a few times during the routine, the contact was electric. The air sizzled between us. You could almost smell the burn, and sense that something incredible was going to happen.
So I did what I often do, and put in a request to speak with our new charge in private. Miss Lane’s expression didn’t change as I gave the order.
“That one,” I said, nodding my chin at the curvy brunette. “Tell her to come by my office later.”
Miss Lane gave a slight nod of her head.
“Of course, Mr. Lyons,” she said deferentially. “I’ll let Kitty know,” she said, before turning away. “Girls! Girls!” she clapped her hands. “Break is over, let’s get started!”
And making my way out the studio, I turned once more at the door. Sure enough, that beautiful female was staring at me, her brown eyes wide, before looking away quickly, a flush rising to her cheeks. Shit, she was gorgeous. Those huge tits were barely encased in a pink leotard, her tights smoothed over luscious, thick thighs, complete with a bouncy ass. I couldn’t wait to see her bounce her up and down for fun, her mouth open with ecstasy.
As a result, I walked back to my office half-aroused. The recruiting mission had been stellar. I’d seen the new blood, and the girls were perfectly suitable. Now, it was just about talking with Kitty one on one.
Satisfied, I went into my office and too
k a seat. It was time to get some work done before that crucial afternoon appointment and buzzing Edna, I leaned forwards.
“No calls,” commanded my voice. “No calls, no emails, and definitely no visitors until I’m ready.”
“Certainly Mr. Lyons,” replied Edna briskly. “I’ll tell everyone you’re unavailable.”
With that, I buried myself in work. This stuff is easy because I used to run a billion dollar conglomerate. As a result, sitting at the helm of a tiny ballet company was a breeze by comparison. But still, it’s work. There are numbers to run, ticket sales to scrutinize, and bills to be paid. But it’s fine because this stuff is so straightforward. With a couple adjustments here and there, NYC Academy was going to be the premiere dance troupe of the city within a few years.
Suddenly, a soft knock came on the door, and I started, eyes going immediately to the clock. Oh shit. It was three already, I’d worked through lunch, my fingers on the keyboard going so fast they whirred. It was time to get down, and suddenly I couldn’t wait.
“Come,” I commanded.
The door creaked open and my breath caught in my throat because Kitty was even more beautiful than before. The brunette wore casual warm-ups now: a loose sweater pulled over track pants, with her feet encased in sneakers. Not exactly the sexiest outfit, but then again, dancers off duty like loose clothes. They spend their lives being scrutinized, so comfy sweats are a must during off-hours.
But baggy clothes can only hide so much because the sweater couldn’t obscure those huge, swinging tits, and the pants only emphasized the width of her hips, with chunky thighs that were fleshy yet strong, making my mouth water.
“Hi Mr. Lyons,” she murmured, letting herself in. “Am I early?”
“No,” I ground out, blue eyes meeting that deep brown. “Just in time. Come and sit,” I said, gesturing to the chair across the desk from me.
With tentative steps, Kitty made her way across the office and dropped into the seat. My eyes trailed every move because even in these few seconds, the grace of that body had me captivated. She was so tempting, her ass wiggling and swaying, big boobies shaking as she lowered herself into the chair. My hardness jerked reflexively, stiffening inside my pants.
His Love: A Forbidden Boss Romance Page 2