by Nina Lane
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “I get it.”
“Good.” I dropped her arm just in time before that douche Little Mac walked in.
“Dawg, this is like capital punishment, forcing a man to be up this early. Am I right, Jas?”
Did this guy never tire of the sound of his own voice?
“It’s pretty early,” Jasmine agreed.
She broke my gaze and turned to make small talk with Little Mac. A few minutes later, Marina showed up and we began what I knew would be a very long day.
Jasmine moved her body around the floor with the grace of a dancer who’d had way more training than she’d received.
Little Mac? That shithead couldn’t seem to grasp the simplest moves, and it was clear he wasn’t taking the whole thing seriously.
“Did you practice over the weekend?” My tone was curt, but ask me if I gave a fuck. I didn’t. I was through biting my tongue with the overindulged hip-hop star.
“Fuck no. I had better shit to do than prance around my crib like a fucking pussy.” He laughed, but failed to notice he was the only one who found his comment funny.
“Better to look like a pussy in your crib than on TV. Hey, but it’s not me who will be out there, so keep it up.” I crossed my arms over my chest and delivered my most intimidating stare.
Jasmine and Marina’s gazes darted back and forth between the two of us, waiting, I assumed, to see who would back down first.
It wouldn’t be me.
After an uncomfortable minute, Little Mac put his hands up in front of him. “Relax, homeboy. I’m just yanking your chain. Me and Jas gonna get this down.”
“Good to hear. Let’s try it again from the beginning.”
Jasmine caught my gaze as she made her way to her position. I gave her a sympathetic smile.
We ran through the routine ten more times, but he never improved. We could’ve run it a hundred more times and it wouldn’t have made a damn difference.
Little Mac was too worried about keeping up his reputation as a baller to give himself over to the dance.
I left that night wishing I could do something to help Jasmine. Little Mac could rot in hell for all I cared, but Jasmine was working hard and doing so well. It sucked ass that she was tethered to the ship that was going to sink them both.
CHAPTER SIX
Jasmine
My conversation with Eduardo the day before hadn’t gone as I’d hoped. All weekend long had been spent pining away for him, wondering what the kiss meant and hoping it signified his interest in me.
It had hurt when he said he couldn’t be with me, regardless of the fact that he wanted to. It didn’t matter who you were—no woman liked rejection. Even if you understood where the guy was coming from.
There was something between us, and I’d been hoping, praying, and wishing he wanted to explore what it was as much as I did. When I’d heard his reasoning though, I couldn’t argue because I got it. I took my career seriously as well, and so I’d let it drop. There’d be other guys, right?
I was owning my newfound attitude when I walked into the studio Tuesday morning. Eduardo was waiting for me, and as prepared as I was to put the kiss behind us, I knew immediately that something was up. The rigid set of his jaw and his fisted hands at his side gave him away. He looked like a man ready to smash someone through ten inches of concrete.
“Eduardo, what is it?”
He didn’t ask how I knew he had something to tell me. I suppose he’d accepted that we could read each other by now.
“Little Mac.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. “When isn’t that guy trouble?” I walked toward him. “What’s he done now?” I asked with a little laugh.
“He’s dropped out of the performance.”
I came to an abrupt stop and spun around to face him. “What?”
Eduardo nodded. “His manager called the producers late last night, and they called me.”
“What a jackass. I can’t believe he’d do that a week and a half before the show!”
“That’s a hell of a lot nicer than what I was going to call him. That said, you should be grateful because he only would’ve made you look bad, which wouldn’t be fair given how hard you’ve been working.”
Disappointment caused my shoulders to sag as the reality of what this meant set in. Now that I’d gotten the choreography figured out, I’d been looking forward to doing my small part to help raise money for the telethon. “All that work for nothing.” My bag fell from my shoulder onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud.
Eduardo took a step closer to me and placed his hands on my upper arms. “Actually, the producers did give one other option.”
“Pfft. What, a solo? I can only imagine how great the tango looks with one person doing it.”
Eduardo didn’t speak for a moment. “They offered it to me. I’m not as big of a celebrity as Little Mac, but I am on TV so they said they could make it work.” His hands squeezed my arms. “But you need to agree to it.”
The thought of performing such an intimate and carnal dance with him caused my nipples to pebble as longing radiated outward from deep within my belly. Eduardo’s dark gaze darted down to my chest for the briefest of seconds then widened before lifting to find my eyes again.
Apparently, my sports bra did little to hide my body’s reaction to him. God, how embarrassing. Why not just take out a full-page ad to tell the guy how much he turned me on?
“Well?” he urged. “Are you okay working with me ten hours a day for the next couple of weeks and performing together?”
That was like asking the lunch lady if she’d be okay with winning the lottery.
“Of course I am.” I drew a breath in, trying to reel in my excitement. “You’re an amazing dancer. I’d be thrilled to perform with you.”
He smiled—wide. So wide, in fact, that I got my first look at his perfectly straight, white teeth. He also had a sparkle in his eye, and he’d lost the intensity I was so used to seeing from him.
“Alright then.” He clapped his hands together, which I’d come to realize meant he was going to put me through the paces. “Let’s do this.”
“And again,” Eduardo clipped out.
It’d been a couple of days since we’d been practicing together, and he’d been laser focused on the task of getting me to be the best dancer I could be. Problem was, I wasn’t really a dancer. But we ran through the routine over and over and over again anyway, until my feet were blistered and sore when I left the studio every night.
I was hunched over, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “I need a minute.”
“You don’t have a minute, Jasmine. We need to get this perfect.”
I was tired and worn out and in no mood to be pushed any further. “Don’t you think I’m trying? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing every fucking day for almost two weeks?”
“Yes! See that? That passion you just let erupt? Use that in the dance. You’re doing all the steps and your technique has improved, but you’re not feeling the dance.” Eduardo shook his fists in front of him. “You need to feel the passion, the sensuality, to really be able to pull this dance off.”
Great, so everything I was feeling and bottling up inside, I was supposed to let loose while we were dancing, knowing we wouldn’t act on it. Where was that going to leave me? Besides sexually frustrated, that is.
“You’re expecting too much of me. I’m not an actress…I’m a make-up artist.”
He stepped forward and placed his hands on either side of my face. “You’re more than that. I don’t know you that well, but I can tell you’re a passionate woman who feels deeply. You know what you want and have no qualms about going after it. Use that. Find that part of yourself. Give yourself over to the music and the dance.”
I closed my eyes for a brief second to sever the connection between us. I could do this. I could. All I needed was to put my nerves aside. Be calm. Feel the music. When I’d sufficiently psyched myself up, I opened
my eyes. Eduardo’s penetrating gaze was still on me.
“Okay, let’s try it again,” I said in a quiet voice.
I moved into position while Eduardo went over to start the music.
Inhaling a deep breath, I delivered a mental pep talk to myself until the first notes of the music began. Then we glided across the floor as one, and I did as he’d asked and gave myself over to the music. As his dark eyes gazed intently into my own throughout the dance, our connection felt like a tangible thing. I moved when he did—and not because I was running through the steps in my head—but because it felt natural. I felt compelled to.
The way he stared at me…it made me want to rip all my clothes off and beg him to fuck me right in the middle of the floor.
We ended the song with my leg hitched up the side of him and my face pressed against his hard chest. I was a panting, quivering mess. And only half of that was from the exertion of the dance.
Neither of us moved or said a word. I remained against his chest like I was super-glued to his body. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d felt the same connection, and whether it was real or all just part of the dance. Surely something so strong couldn’t just be a performance?
Eventually, I pulled away, hesitant to look up into his eyes for fear of what I might see there. Although, truth be told, it’s what I might not see that frightened me the most.
When I finally summoned the courage to open my eyes, what I saw sucked the air from my lungs. Everything I’d seen during the dance was still there—all the want, the need, the lust, all there for the taking.
He moved his face toward mine until we stood cheek to cheek, him nuzzling my hair.
“How old are you?” Eduardo’s breath fanned over my neck as he spoke.
My breathing was shallow as I answered. “Old enough.”
One corner of his mouth rose. “That didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m twenty-four,” I admitted.
“So young.” He pulled back enough to look at me. I closed my eyes for a brief second to take in the sensation of being so near to him.
“I’m not a baby, Eduardo. I assure you.” I knew he was older than me, but I didn’t want him thinking I was an immature, young woman.
“You are most definitely not that.” He wrapped his arms around me and slammed his lips down on mine. I couldn’t get enough of him—of his hard body pressing against mine, his ragged breaths echoing in my ears, his hot lips ravaging my mouth. Need was a hot coal in my core radiating outward.
He trailed kisses the length of my neck, causing all the fine hairs on my body to stand on end.
“I can’t resist you any longer,” he said between open-mouth kisses across my flesh. “I’ve tried and I’m done trying.”
Eduardo backed away from me, leaving me standing there, stunned and shaken. Before I was able to open my mouth to say anything, he took both of my shoulders and spun me around so I faced the mirror.
“How was I supposed to resist you? Look at you.” Standing behind me, he trailed a hand gently down the side of my body. I shuddered. “Perfection. All of it.” Both his hands gripped my waist. “Your tiny waist.” Eduardo leaned in and kissed my shoulder. I closed my eyes, but only briefly. “Your perfect breasts.” He slid his hands up my torso until they covered my aching breasts. I pushed my chest out and he ground his hard length into my backside, squeezing my tits with the perfect amount of pressure.
A small moan escaped which caused Eduardo to groan, and he nuzzled his face into my neck. “Your smooth, olive skin practically begs for my lips on it.” His large hands glided down the length of my arms, intertwining our hands when they reached the end. “But what I cannot get enough of is this ass.” His grip released me, and he grabbed my butt with both hands.
I dropped my head back so it rested on his shoulder. “No, I want you to look at yourself,” he whispered to me. “Watch while I make you lose your fucking mind.”
One of Eduardo’s hands plunged into my dance skirt from behind, his fingers stroking along my entrance. His other hand lay over top of the fabric of my skirt, centered on my throbbing clit.
I leaned back into him and he whispered in my ear, “The minute you stop watching, I stop moving, chula.”
I raised my head and watched in the mirror through half-lidded eyes as the hand in front moved in tight circles with just the right amount of pressure to drive me wild, but not enough to bring me relief. I exhaled on a moan.
“Is this all for me?” Eduardo asked, referring to how wet I was.
“Yes,” I breathed out on another moan. God, his hands felt so good on me—and so, so right.
Eduardo pushed a finger into me from behind and then another. He groaned and bit my shoulder lightly. Both of his fingers kept up the perfect rhythm, and he seemed to know exactly when I was on the brink of release because he’d slow the tempo just as I’d reach the edge.
I gripped the forearm stretched across my abdomen as his hand danced across my clit with such expertise he left me desperate for orgasm.
“Eduardo, please,” I whimpered. I couldn’t take anymore. I felt as if I were burning from the inside out and only he could give me the relief I so badly needed.
“I like hearing you beg.” He increased his pace, driving me further and further to the point of no return while he spoke Spanish rapidly in my ear. I wasn’t sure what he was saying, but it amped me up all the same.
On a loud cry, I reached the peak and came plummeting down the other side, shivers and white light blanketing my body as I orgasmed right there in the middle of the studio, filled with and surrounded by everything that was Eduardo.
No longer able to keep my head upright, I leaned my head back onto his shoulder and closed my eyes, basking in a post-orgasmic haze while I caught my breath.
“Well, one thing is for sure,” Eduardo said in a low whisper.
“What’s that?” I asked, still catching my breath.
He leaned in and kissed the side of my neck. “Our rehearsals just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”
I laughed, unable to contain my happiness that he’d finally pushed away the barrier that had been separating us for the past couple of weeks. His chest rocked back and forth with his own silent laughter.
After a minute, in a stern voice he said, “Alright. Time to get back to work.”
I suppressed a smile. I guess not everything had changed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eduardo
I’d insisted that wardrobe come to visit us in the studio for our costume fittings since everything always seemed to take ten times longer when you did it at the studio lot. And because I’d made it my own personal mission for us to nail this performance, we didn’t have any time to waste.
The progress Jasmine had made in a few short weeks was far beyond anything I could have hoped for, and her hard work and dedication to the performance was going to pay off.
“How does it feel when you raise your hands?” the costume designer, Stacey, asked.
I lifted my hands and moved my arms around. “Feels good. The costume doesn’t feel like it’s straining with any of my movements.”
“Perfect. I just want to pin this one spot on your pants. Give me a sec.” She pulled a pin from her mouth and dropped down onto her knees in front of me, then started pinning the bottom of my pants.
I’d be wearing black pants and a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons undone halfway down my chest. I hadn’t yet seen Jasmine’s costume since Stacey had handed her a garment bag when she’d arrived and told her to go try it on.
After fooling around in the studio last week, our practice sessions had become much more enjoyable. Stolen kisses and heavy petting had become a frequent occurrence, but I was dying to get inside her. Every time she shimmied her ass back and forth, I was tempted to flip her skirt up, bend her over and take her right there in front of the mirrors so I could watch myself pounding into her.
Stacey leaned back on her haunches and su
rveyed me. “Okay, I think we’re done here.”
The door to the studio swung open and Jasmine stood there, one eyebrow arched. Her gaze darted down to Stacey kneeling before me and then back up to me. I was able to tell from the slight smirk on her face that she was kidding around and knew nothing was going on, so I rolled my eyes playfully.
It wasn’t until she walked into the room that I glanced down to take in her costume. She wore red, which complemented her darker skin tone and her coffee-colored hair. The dress had spaghetti straps and a deep V in the middle with an asymmetrical fringe hemline. She twirled as she made her way over to us, revealing another deep V in the back, criss-crossed with straps. The entire dress sparkled with rhinestones that caught the studio lights just right, making it impossible to take your eyes off of her as she sauntered toward us.
When Stacey turned to look at her, I adjusted myself in my pants. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to dance with a raging hard-on, which is exactly what was going to happen with her wearing that dress.
“Oh, it looks even better than I’d hoped,” Stacey said, standing to face Jasmine. “What do you think, Eduardo?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, it looks great.”
Jasmine smirked. That little vixen knew exactly the effect she was having on me.
“Thanks, guys. I feel like a real dancer in it.”
“Okay, it seems to fit pretty well, but let me just check a few things and then we’re done here.”
The entire time Stacey inspected and tweaked Jasmine’s dress, my hands itched to touch her. I knew the second we were alone again, I’d pounce on her.
The minutes ticked by, feeling more like hours, until finally Stacey announced that she was done. The two of us changed out of the costumes so we could give them to Stacey to take with her. I was alone in the studio when Jasmine returned.
“So you liked my costume?” she asked in a sing-song voice.
When she was near enough, I pulled her into me. “You know I liked it.” I nuzzled into her neck and inhaled, loving the scent of her as always.
