Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2013 Raven McAllan
ISBN: 978-1-77130-323-1
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: JS Cook
Proofreader: Adam Link
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To my reditor in chief Doris and her minions, and all at EP.
Thank you all.
WILL YOU DANCE, MISS LAURENCE?
Dance Studio, 1
Raven McAllan
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
"So, Miss Laurence." He peered at the form in an exaggerated manner and then looked up at her from under lowered lids. It made his expression hard to read. "You want to dance?" His gaze returned to the form.
What on earth had she written there that was so fascinating? Surely 'don't eat cheese', or 'no allergies or illnesses' wasn't so interesting or worrying that he had to read the thing twice?
Ava Laurence rolled her eyes. She made sure her companion didn't see her. Why else would she be here?
"Well…"
His stare stopped her in her tracks. Now she knew how a fly felt trapped by a spider. She swallowed, her mouth was suddenly dry and the palms of her hands were damp.
"Um, yes please, Sir."
Sir? Where the hell did that come from? The last person I called Sir was my headmaster when he gave me detention. He as sure as hell didn't make me want to roll over and have my tummy tickled. Or my ass spanked. She shut her eyes; no way was she going there.
"Good, I'll see you tomorrow at nine pm." He scowled at the registration form that he still held in his hands. "Oh and Miss Laurence?"
Ava stopped playing with her car keys. The silence was heavy. She lifted her eyes to his face. "Um, yeah?"
"No sass or back chat. Wear a dress with a full skirt." He paused. "No jeans." The look he gave to her legs was disparaging. "Ditch the bra. Your breasts don't need one. And no panties." He turned on his heel and left her standing, open mouthed in the middle of the room.
Well, as a farewell speech, that took the biscuit. Ava stared for a moment, then shook her head and left the building. No bra? What planet was he on? Let him walk around with a pair of 38DD cup boobs and see if they needed a bra or not.
In the confines of her home, yeah the bra went, but no way did she swing low sweet chariot anywhere else. Should she cut and run? The thought of his eyes as they stared at her made her mind up. She'd be back. After all, she'd been told he was the best, so who was she to argue?
It wasn't until she got into bed Ava realized that Jane hadn't actually said just what he was the best at. Or what his name was. That lack of knowledge didn't stop her showering and touching herself until she shook with the intensity of a climax harder and deeper than she'd known for a long time. The fact she'd imagined it was Sir's hands on her, and his cock in her, had helped.
****
The following night Ava pulled on the only full-skirted dress she had. A flimsy, silky sundress with tiny shoestring straps that tied on her shoulders, and was in her mind much too short to wear and bare her all. Literally, probably, but no way was she going to spend even more money. The cost of the lessons was enough to send her credit card into spasm. Now if only it was my pussy having the spasm I'd be a lot happier. Chance would be a fine thing. She giggled. Pleasure had been in short supply for longer than she cared to remember. It was amazing her mouth even remembered how to smile let alone work for her to giggle. She looked at herself in the mirror and realized she was barefoot.
Hmm, so shoes to dance in? They should be heels I guess, but heels and me are as likely as me on the moon. Not if I want to be able to walk, let alone dance. She rummaged in her cupboard and found a pair of grey suede shoes that weren't quite ballet flats. They'd have to do. Ava was well aware of her lack of balance and falling A over T without knickers was a no-no. With one last—careful—twirl, she grabbed her jacket and checked that her keys, credit card, and phone were in her bag. She'd already texted her best friend all the details of where she'd be. Though Ava guessed it wasn't necessary, as Jane was the friend who'd told her all about the classes.
"I need to get out more and expand my mind." Ava had said to her a week or so earlier, as they sat in a coffee shop and drank low-cal lattes. "I think I want to learn to dance."
Jane had rolled her eyes. "What sort of dancing?"
Ava shrugged and made a face at her drink. "Yuk, I need thick fat milk and a double shot. Oh, I don't know, just dancing. I'm in a rut. I dunno. Learn how to move, or something. Why?"
"Well, I think I might know just the person to help you. Let me make a few calls and get back to you. And I'm getting us double shot espressos. Enough is enough."
And that, Ava thought as she drove toward her destination, was the reason she looked like a tart on holiday, and was hot and excited. Oh, and puzzled. Why didn't he want her to have any knickers on? Was he just a dirty old man who got his kicks from seeing half-naked women doing the rumba or something? Ava sniggered and turned her car into the car park behind her destination. One thing he couldn't be called was old. Mid thirties at the most, long dark hair pulled back, and held in place with a strip of leather, and dark almost black eyes that pierced you. Or so she felt anyway.
Her phone pinged as she locked the car door. It was Jane. Short and sweet—go for it, and have a ball. So she wasn't troubled about Ava's lessons then. Ava squared her shoulders, straightened her back and headed for the door.
As on her previous visit, it was locked, so she rang the bell and then waited. Patience had never been one of her virtues, and she tapped her fingernails on her phone. Just as the noise began to irritate her, and as she was about to ring the bell again, the door swung open. Ava took a deep breath and went inside. Why the hell do I feel as if something momentous is going to happen? It's a dancing lesson, for goodness' sake. No more, no less. And a damned expensive one as well. She'd be eating baked beans and taking packed lunches to work for the next week.
She shut the door behind her and stood undecided. Which way?
"Up here." His voice floated down to her, and the deep dark tones made her nipples harden and her skin zing. "First door on the right." Obediently, Ava started up the stairs, even as she wondered why she was being so compliant. She usually questioned everything. Jane teased her and called her Ava-query. It was, Ava often thought, so very true.
Outside the door, she hesitated. Go in? Knock? Wait? She compromised. She knocked, hesitated for a second, opened the door and went inside.
The room was empty except for an exercise mat, a padded bench, and a weird contraption of ropes hanging from the ceiling with a length of some kind of cord in a neat coil next to the wall. What any of it was for, she couldn't hazard a guess, but it didn't seem that it was the sort of stuff that would be needed to cha-cha or samba across the waxed wooden planks.
Ava walked across the floor slowly, and ran her fingers over the circle of cord. It was smooth and left a faint tingle on her fingers. That subtle feeling made her wonder what she'd let herself in for. Damn Jane, if this is what I've a notion it is, I'll get my own back. She chose to ignore the fact that the idea of something more than dancing might happen had her curls damp and her pulse
racing.
"Hello Ava." The dark velvet voice curled round her, and she spun on her heels. He'd come into the room without any noise, and was standing watching her.
"Are you ready for your first lesson?"
****
Ryan noted each expression as it crossed her face. He'd stood, unnoticed for several minutes, to judge what her reactions would be when she entered the room and saw what he'd left there. Jane had warned him she was clueless. "Interested, scared, but clueless as to what she wants," she'd said after one intense evening of wax play demonstrations they'd both attended. Him to supervise; Jane to watch. "But she loves my books, and her eyes nearly popped out—in a good way—when I dragged her into Milo's shop," Jane told him. "The sight of a Shibari rope had her nipples trying to rip her blouse. She's partnerless, has been since her husband died a couple of years ago, and said her sex life is as missing as a sunny summer in Scotland. So I'm relying on you, cousin dearest."
So here he was watching and waiting for her to acknowledge him. Then the first lesson would begin. He supposed you could call it a dancing lesson … dancing to his demands.
Her eyes widened as she faced him and saw his tight-fitting trousers. Yeah, leather isn't usual to rumba in. Rumble maybe. Okay Ava, let's see what you're made of. He walked across the floor. The heels of his boots made a tiny tap as they met the wood underneath them. Once he reached Ava, he took her chin in his hand and lifted her face upwards. The tremor that reached him was faint, but there. Scared or Excited? Probably both he decided. That was good; he wanted her slightly off balance. It would make her more receptive to his demands.
"I expect you to answer me, Ava. You did it so beautifully when we last met. 'Yes, Sir' will be the proper response. So, I ask again, are you ready for your first lesson?" She swallowed and Ryan guessed she was wondering if she did indeed want what lesson he could teach her. He could almost read her mind, her face was so expressive.
"Um…" She blinked several times and rubbed her hands down her skirt. Damp palms perhaps? That's good.
"Yes, I think so. Oh, er, Sir." The last word tumbled out as if she was worried he would walk away without the title. Ryan chose to ignore her hesitation.
"Good, take off your dress." He folded his arms, as he wondered how she would react to such a direct command.
"Eh?" A soft rosy glow suffused her cheeks.
"You heard. Take it off or walk away. Your choice. From now on you do as I say." He didn't elaborate. He knew it would be no such scenario. Any person could negotiate a scene, and if they chose to, then walk away. His stark order might be cruel, but Ryan was intrigued just how Ava would react. He had a feeling that under her quiet demeanor was a hot, feisty woman just begging to be let free once more.
She blinked again.
Dammit, is this Morse code? Because it’s a helluva long while since I was a Boy Scout.
Ryan tapped his foot slowly and deliberately.
"Then I go." Ava walked past him, stopped and made her way back to stand in front him once more. Her five foot three height made her crane her neck to look up at his face. "I do nothing without freedom of choice, mate."
"Sir. And good, that’s what I wanted to hear. Let's talk." He took her arm and walked to where he'd put the bench earlier and wished he could adjust his cock, which was rubbing his leather trousers as it swelled and demanded attention. Her attitude was one he preferred, and Ryan looked forward to their exchanges. He was under no illusion that they would be many and less than fiery. "Sit legs astride, there's a good girl. Let your pussy feel the leather. It might be soft, but It will make you wet. Are you going to stain my bench, love?"
"What?" It was a squeak rather than a word. "Oh god, I so can not do this. I'm sorry, and I don't even know your name, but this is so not me. What on earth made Jane think I'd want knickerless lessons is beyond me. Seriously, I'm sorry I've wasted your time, but I'm not who or what you want. Whatever that is, it's not me. Really, it's not. Hells bells, I'm an ordinary overweight thirty-eight-year-old widow with a dr…well with nothing that would interest you I'm sure. So Mr. ... Sir … er, whatever, I'll be off." She tried to tug her arm away from him.
He'd never met anyone who could babble so much so fast, and still have breath left. He held his hand up, and to his surprise, she stopped the pull. It was just as well, because she had the stamina and strength of an anchorman in a tug of war team. He grinned inwardly. Definitely not the build of one though.
"Calm down, sit how you want for now, and listen to me." She glared at him, and Ryan knew she teetered on the edge of acquiescing or slapping him senseless. However, she nodded and perched on the edge of the bench, the skirt of her dress tucked firmly under her and tight across her legs. Ryan was certain she had no idea how enticing the dark shadow of her pussy curls was. Even though he preferred a smooth hairless cunt, he wanted to be the one to make it so, and this hint of things to come had his body taut.
"Okay, but no siring or anything…"
He chuckled, he'd bet his new cuffs he'd have her Siring him before she left.
"My name is Ryan. Ryan Culliver." He saw the moment the significance of his name registered.
Chapter Two
Oh fuck, that's blown it. Ava wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
"Ryan Culliver?"
He nodded.
"As in Jane's cousin the whatsit of whatever." Fuck, I can't remember what she called him.
Ryan laughed. The deep rumble sent vibrations from her clit to her tits and back again. To say nothing of making her pussy clench, and beg for attention.
"I guess that's one way of putting it. Now explain what you mean."
Damn I bet he's not always so nicey nicey … well I know not, look at those 'do this, do that' things he was saying a wee while ago. Right I can do this, and I can walk away. She felt in her pocket to make sure she still had her car keys and phone.
"Um, well you’re a master at some sort of tying up and stuff. And other things like paddling and scribing? But Jane wouldn't go into details. She said … the bugger… She said one day I'd see for myself. This is what she meant isn’t it? You're not going to teach me to dance, are you? You're no teacher…" Ava bit her lip to stop it trembling. She wanted to cry. Why had Jane done this? He touched her cheek in a caring gesture that confused her. Instead of upset and angry, she was warm and comforted. His finger circled her mouth and it was all she could do to stop herself opening her lips and dragging it into her mouth to suckle. He tapped her lips gently, his finger soft over them.
"I'm a teacher, Ava, but not of ballroom dancing. What we'll do, if you agree is a dance of a different sort. Are you going to listen now? Or do you want to ring Jane and bollock her for having your best interests at heart?"
Put like that, she sounded silly: a petulant child who'd spat her dummy out because something wasn't as she'd expected. After all, she had been moaning that she'd forgotten what a dick looked like and her channel was so tight she'd likened it to a Scotsman's purse. Ava vowed to be very careful what she said to her friend in the future.
"No, she was right, I'm old before my time," Ava said quietly. "And I'm ready to listen. But I thought all you sort had safe words and such. Well that's what I've read in Jane's books." He raised one eyebrow, and Ava giggled. "Yeah, okay busted, I read her stuff, even if I need a cold shower afterwards."
"Or a session with your vibrator. " Ryan held his hand up to stop her answering.
God, he is way too sharp.
" No, she didn't tell me, I can read your face. As a Master I need to be able to do that, since every nuance registers. Don't look worried, love; you're ripe to learn, and I think receptive to explore your feelings and desires. So—my sort? Men? People with long hair? Left-handers? What?"
Ava was sure her face was the color of the straps of her sundress. Bright red.
"Oh fuck … no, no, not fuck, I mean, shit, I've buggered it … no I don't mean that. Oh hell, feet in mouth are my specialty. Stop laughing, I'
m an idiot, I accept it." Ryan shoulders heaved.
"That's for sure. Okay now, enough. I know what you mean. People who like something more than vanilla sex. Straight forward in out and thank you sex," he said.
Ava squirmed. "I guess."
"And where do you fit in all this?" Ryan asked her. "Do you want more than you have?"
Ava rolled her eyes, and could have hit herself when his eyes narrowed at the gesture. "Sorry Ryan. I've got into the habit to be deprecating I guess."
"Hmm. Well you need to get out of it now. If, and it's a big if, we do mesh, you'll have no time for silly things like that. Why, if you were prepared to come here knickerless, won't you let your bare pussy sit on the bench?"
Well, that was coming to the point with a vengeance.
"I'm embarrassed."
"Why?" he asked. "I want you to, I want to make you wet and see the evidence. Just for me for now, I won't make you show others until you're comfortable with the idea. So I'll ask again, but beware, I don't make a habit of giving second chances. And yes, if you'd let me get a word in edgeways, I'll explain what we're going to do, decide on safe words, limits and protocol." His eyes twinkled and Ava felt more than relieved. He wasn't angry or exasperated with her yet.
Rather than open her mouth and fill it with toes once more, she stood up, turned and put one leg over the bench. The gleam in his eyes spurred her on, and she gathered the side of her dress in her hand to hold it out of the way of her butt as she sat down. The leather was cold and smooth and she gasped. It was also very arousing.
"Nice?"
What? He expects me to answer that? Oh god he does, I can tell… How mortifying.
"Ava? I may have given you a lot of rope so far, but don't use it to hang yourself." His dark eyes gleamed, and she saw the fine pulse in his neck beat out a staccato rhythm.
Will You Dance, Miss Laurence? Page 1
