by Nora Flite
She gave a humorless laugh. “Um, a decent amount, actually.”
“Have you ever had one just... make a move on you? Like, this moment where you can feel the intensity in the air?” The memory made the hairs on my arms lift.
Bronta actually blushed. “Truthfully, I'm usually the one that makes the move on them.”
“You know what I mean, though?”
“Hmn.” Tugging at her curly bangs, she eyed the ceiling. “Maybe. Listen, if you're right, and he did try to kiss you... what happened? What stopped it?”
My head filled with the distressed storm that had been in Carter's voice, the speed he'd yanked away from me. The knife in my belly dug deeper. “He backed off. I just don't know what I did that freaked him out.”
“It doesn't have to be anything you did.” Draining her glass of water, she set it down softly. “You have a better idea of this than me, I didn't see it go down. But what if he thought it was too risky?”
That had been a fear of mine, too. “I get it, because he's my teacher. Right.” Exhaling loudly, I sipped my now luke-warm coffee. “You probably think he did me a favor by not going further.”
“Slow down,” she said, wagging a finger at me. “I never said anything like that.”
I froze, the porcelain mug touching my bottom lip. “Excuse me?”
“Look, I just want to make it clear.” She spread her fingers over her heart. “It's your life, and what I would do doesn't even matter. Mr. Braeburn is our teacher—your teacher. If you two get caught, he'll get fired and you'll get expelled from the program.”
Lowering my eyes in shame, I saw my reflection on the filmy surface of my drink. Fired, expelled, I thought grimly. If that happened, it'd ruin everything. I was here in Paris for a reason. I needed to focus, forget the hooks attaching themselves to my heart one by one. They were yanking me towards Carter. That path led towards destruction. Licking the corner of my mouth, I peered at my friend. “For the record, what would you do?”
“Personally, if I was in your shoes?” Showing me every pearly tooth in her face, Bronta cupped her cheeks. “I'd grab that guy by his beautiful shoulders, drag him somewhere secret, and proceed to fuck him until we were both numb.”
Her honesty melted the growing sadness, left it forgotten in the corner of my mind. It was exactly what I needed to hear.
While the waiter scowled in the corner, Bronta and I threw our heads back and laughed.
- Chapter Seven -
Carter Braeburn
The next week was pure hell for me.
As per requirement, I ran the class every single day. That was my job; I'd always been strict and hard-lined in following protocol. That was me, it was part of who I was—for better or for worse.
In this case, well, it felt worse.
For hours, I endured the sight and smell and fucking presence of Noel Addison. I could recognize the sound of her shoes—they had a certain squeak—when she arrived early for class. My ability to control myself was waning. She was a harsh ice storm, grinding away at my granite and polishing it into infinity.
What was I supposed to do?
I'd walk the room, attempting to watch the other students. Each of them bored me. I had no attention span. From one to the next, I'd let my eyes glaze over their flawed movements. Their missed steps, their poor lines.
I anguished to correct them all one by one... and what should have been hours became mere seconds until I found her again. Noel was magnetic; it wasn't just me who noticed.
Two of the young women had started to scowl. The boys? Their response antagonized me the most. During partner exercises, they'd fight to pair with her. Digging my nails into my biceps, choking myself with folded arms, I'd burn holes into their skulls while they preened for her.
God, when they put their hands on Noel's slim waist—hoisted her high like a prize—I was near bursting. How could I take months of this? I'm going to go insane, I realized. I want her and I don't. My body cringes at the thought of losing her... my throat squeezes if I picture us alone.
How she'd writhe, scream... those pathetic boys think of it, too. They must. But I bet their thoughts aren't warring with a fucked up chunk of their heart that wants to dig their teeth into Noel's skin and listen to her shriek.
Sweat tickled down my stomach at the idea. I was twisted, and I was surely dangerous. This girl was the ideal ballerina, she'd tackle every challenge and go as far as she desired. Helping her reach it, that was supposed to be my purpose.
Instead, I was letting myself wonder how her strong thighs would feel around my face.
Her slim throat under my thumbs.
Fuck.
Months of this. Months.
****
Sunday was the only free day in the program. The one day I wouldn't be forced to interact with that tempting woman. She was tempting me, I knew it. Ever since that morning, when I'd felt the first roar of the monster, Noel had been trying to lure me close.
I wasn't stupid.
She'd bend towards me when warming up, shove her perky tits in my direction and then give me a pretty smile. I'd seen her showing off, and once, in a display that left me breathless, I'd caught her doing full splits on the floor.
That image had been scorched into my thoughts. My cock had surged to life, painfully hard—I'd needed to leave the room and walk in the cold rain.
Noel was taking over my existence.
I couldn't call her crazy. She had no idea what was going on in my private thoughts. The dark edges of my skull hid away things not meant for society. Dreams of pushing her down in the dirt, mauling her welcoming thighs.
I'd make her sweat—make her scream and come for me—and she might not leave alive.
The possibility had me feverish.
And so I looked forward to Sunday. My day alone, the studio finally just for me. I'd make myself blackout with exhaustion, replace every fragment of Noel Addison with the solid punishment of ballet.
That day, in a tight fitted green shirt and a pair of black shorts, I set about my routine with gusto.
Noel showed up a mere fifteen minutes in.
Turning her way, I didn't soften the frustration in my tone. “What are you doing here?”
Holding her duffel bag in one hand, she slid a heel backwards. “I was going to train. Isn't that why you're here?”
“There's no class on Sunday,” I groaned. “Do you need to practice every single day?”
The glimmer of amusement in her blue eyes caught me. “If I can.”
God, this girl... she wasn't hiding it. She could say she wanted to train, but her goal was clear. Noel was deliberately trying to get me alone. It was irresponsible. This was going too far, I had to warn her. If I made it clear that she needed to stop seeking me out like this, risking her safety, she'd have to back off and give us both some peace.
I don't want peace, I thought furiously. I want to grab her by her sculpted ass and rip that teasing smile off her face with my lips. She smelled so good, how wonderful would she taste?
A tremor moved through me. In my dancer's belt—a tight, constricting pair of underwear designed to protect my goods—my cock swelled to life. She made doing anything with her around impossible.
Soon, she won't even need to be near me. I'll think about her, and my mind will become a prison to this fucking lust. “Fine,” I said suddenly, “train if you like. I won't stop you.”
“Actually,” she said, setting her bag in the corner. “I was hoping you'd help me.”
I swallowed the sand in my throat. “With what?”
Stripping down, her sweats and coat were tucked away. White tights, a form fitting pink leotard, and a thin skirt dusting right over the bottom of her ass; she was sexy as hell. Noel pulled her hair back. “Some partner moves. I don't think the guys in class are as good as you.”
My ribs strained to keep my heart in check. It was quelled only by a slow, seeping realization. The knowledge of what I wanted to do—was about to do—began as a
whisper. I couldn't do this anymore, she made it impossible. I was done with the fight.
My walk to the front of the studio was serene. “Alright,” I called back. Fingers brushed the door, turning the lock into place. “I'll be happy to assist you.”
Yes.
Assist.
She smiled at me, pulling one foot behind her. “I already warmed up at the house. I'm good to go when you are.”
Thump thump thump. Ah, the blood was singing in me. I knew that tune. “I've been ready for some time,” I said softly.
Noel didn't sense anything in my mood. Beaming, she went to click on the radio. “How about some pas de deux?” she asked. Literally, the term was French for 'step of two.' Movements meant to display harmony. Both of us would assist the other in a routine devoted to hiding the mechanics, and showing off the skills of the ballerina while the man held her.
It would be perfect.
My palms were slick; I carefully dried them on my shorts. I'd fought the desire to change into pants with Noel here. I rarely showed off my skin, but, when working alone, it was a great way to check out the musculature and lines my body made in the mirrors.
I'd been wary in the past of letting others spot my leg scarring. Now, I buried my fear down so deep, I was starting to feel euphoria without it. Again, the staccato in my chest. Skittering tendrils strangled me. So familiar, so welcome. “Certainly. Let's work on that,” I said.
Nodding, Noel strolled until she was right in front of me. Turning, I looked down on the pale, vulnerable back of her delicate neck.
Like leaves, my hands fluttered down, alighting on her waist. “How about some arabesques?” I asked, my breath moving the tiny hairs on her skin. Under my grip, she tightened; the first sign of her nerves.
“I—yeah. Let's start there.” The confidence she'd strutted into my studio with was crumbling. I could see the vein along her neck quiver.
Do you sense what I want to do to you? I wondered, trailing long fingers down her sides. Through the thin material, her pulse was an ocean of waves. Balancing her, I let her lift one shapely leg to the side. Noel pushed it back, trusting me to help keep her steady while she posed.
Over her head, I glanced at the mirrors. She wasn't watching me, her gaze was to the opposite wall. It was good that she didn't see my face. My eyes were heavy-lidded, glowing with the wicked things I was ready to do to her.
Her arms moved up and out, like she was reaching for a star in the sky. Her scent hit me, the alluring fruit and candy. Was that her sweat, her perfume? Her rippling life essence, sleeping under her skin?
My nose brushed near her ear. “Now,” I told her, “on your toes. Hold tight.”
Goosebumps sprouted along her arms. The tip of her tongue ran over her lip, and then she was up. Noel became a statue, allowing me to take absolute control of her body. Easily, I turned her in place. She didn't fumble once.
Even now, she's so good. How much could she handle? Shit, I wanted to know. “Stay ready. I'll lift you.”
Her voice was a ghost. “Okay.”
Tensing my legs, I dipped down. It was a smooth transition, my hands on her shoulder blades, easing her into the air. Noel was a feather to me. Her feet spread wide, toes stabbing into her pose.
She gave me her trust, believed I would take her to the sky and not drop her. Of course I wouldn't, she was too valuable to let her shatter on a simple floor.
What a waste that would have been.
Holding her as I was, Noel's shapely hamstrings and rounded ass were eye level. I imagined her perfect cunt behind the insubstantial fabric. Breathing in deep, I filled my lungs with her. My brain went fuzzy.
Carrying her across the room, I pictured flipping her, catching her with those superb legs around my waist. Tensing my jaw, I set Noel down and helped her balance. Grabbing her wrists, I heard her sputter of shock. Forcing one arm above her head, I guided the other to our hip level. “Dip,” I hissed into her ear. Was that... had she whimpered? My dick pushed uncomfortably against the fabric that kept it from reaching Noel.
She swung low, my grip forcing her arms behind her. She looked like a swimmer, her dive paused in the air by my body. That lovely face was towards the ground, a single leg lifted high towards my chin.
She was living art, held in the cusp of perfection or ruin. I could let her go, her body crashing hard into the floor. In my hands, she belonged to me. Every second I spent like that, letting her agile frame dangle between my hands and at my mercy, my hunger ballooned.
I'd stopped fighting this side of me—the fetid shadow that wanted her. Wanted all of her, inch by fucking inch.
A rumbling noise, wild and erotic, got away from me. Noel's voice shook. “Did you—did you just growl?”
Yanking her upwards, I filled my ears with her shout. It blocked out rationality. I didn't need to be rational any longer. The thing in my guts was awake, and it didn't care a wit about reason or logic or morals.
Noel twirled in my arms; I forced her to do a single spin. She slammed into my chest, fists wrapping in the front of my shirt. When she looked into my eyes—saw whatever it was that the man I'd murdered years ago had seen as I strangled him—it was unforgettable.
Every sense of mine was awake. Just like then, just like that time...
My old injury moaned—or was it Noel?
Capturing the back of her head, I pressed my nose to hers. I was ready for her to struggle. I wanted her to, desired for her to tear at me and fight back. Here I was, every muscle flexing to hold her still, preparing to stop her from ever getting away.
Leaning forward, Noel pushed her lips onto mine.
Explosions rocketed through me. My tongue numbed, teeth clipping it as I ripped away. “What the hell are you doing?” I snapped, fingers digging into her upper arms.
Her forehead crinkled. Both of us could hear the strain in her voice. “I was—I was just kissing you!”
“Why were you kissing me?” The razor edge in my words was a wake up call. Looking down, seeing the indents on her skin, I loosened my hold.
Noel was having trouble focusing, eyes ricocheting from my lips to my glare. “Because I wanted to. And because I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
Her flustered state was igniting my passion. She'd wanted to kiss me. “Are you suicidal?” I whispered. Seeing her wide-eyed reaction, I gave her a shake. “Can't you sense it? The fucking danger in front of you?”
Noel's smile was precarious. It wanted to run off of her lips. “You're not dangerous.”
Thump thump... thump. Oh, how the claws shredded me. “Noel, you have no idea what I am.” Gingerly, I ran my hands down her arms. She shivered, tried to step closer to me; my abrupt grip froze her a foot away. “You must have felt it before. The day you came here alone, that first time.”
Had she blinked in the last minute? “That morning—you were just going to kiss me then, too.” A drop of sweat pooled in her collar bone. “Why would you ever hurt me?”
The answer spilled out. “I don't know.” Bending forward, I licked the dimple at the base of her neck. “I just know I want to.”
Under my tongue, the girl moaned. The sound turned my cock rock solid. Reaching up, she wrapped her fingers around my forearms; her nails dug in. In those pure blue eyes, the stability she wore during class—her serenity during ballet—dared me to keep going. “I don't believe you,” she said flatly.
Shutting my eyes, I bent down and inhaled along her temple. Under my lips, her flesh throbbed. “No?” I asked, easing my claws off of her. Cupping her jaw, I nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Would you like me to prove it to you?”
Her shiver was tangible. “If you were going to hurt me, I could feel it.”
“Oh, Noel,” I sighed. Tilting her chin up, I smiled at her uncertainty. “By the time you feel it, it'll be too late.”
It sounded like she swallowed an entire apple. “Then show me.”
Her dare spoke volumes about her. Noel must have sensed something w
as off about me. And still, she was as weak to the tingles in her belly as I was to mine. That bravery was exhilarating. How far could I push her before she tried to bail?
How long until my porcelain dancer became dust?
I'd decided I was going to find out. Her permission, that taunt, incited me further. I didn't need her to tell me to try... but fuck, it added a delicious allure.
This time I initiated the kiss. She was ready, had been ready. Burying my fingers in her hair, I yanked the bun out; coiled the loose strands. Her body became her own shackles. Noel couldn't escape.
Our lips tangled, tongue flicking the roof of her mouth. I expected her to yield into me. Instead, she nipped me back with her teeth.
Noel didn't taste like cherries or sugar. This woman was gun powder and arsenic.
She's testing me. Seeing if my threat has substance.
I was more than pleased to oblige.
“Aah!” she gasped, the roots of her hair tugging to their limit. I spun her, performing a sort of pas de deux not appropriate for an audience. Bending her against the long bar on the wall, we both saw ourselves in the mirror just inches away.
Holding her taut spine against my chest, I stroked a finger between her pert breasts. Through the leotard, her nipples betrayed her arousal. “Beautiful,” I sighed. Noel was pink as a rose. She went to shut her eyes; too fast for her, I tightened my hold in her scalp. “Don't,” I hissed. “You wanted to train with me, didn't you?” The blossom of pain forced her to look at us in the mirror. “Always watch yourself, you know this.” Gently, I kissed her cheek. “It's the only way to learn.”
I was eager to teach her what she'd walked into with open arms.
Grabbing the hem of her skirt, I tore it away. It was easy, like gossamer. Cupping her ass, I watched how I could grip so hard her flesh pooled around my fingers. “Spread your legs,” I said. Noel obeyed, her feet inching across the floor. I wasn't satisfied; I kicked at her heels. “No, all the way down. Do a full split for me.”
She eyed me in the mirror, glowing with anticipation. In a smooth motion she dropped to the ground. When she was finished, her hands held onto the horizontal bar, thighs pointing at opposite walls. Putting my hand on her back, I pushed her so her lower belly crushed into the flat wood.
