Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 73655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Eight weeks and nothing.
No ring.
No proposal.
And I'm on the edge of my seat.
I've been dancing every day but taking it easy. I've been feeling so much better, and the pain is mostly gone. There are still times I get a twinge, but I've been making the most of being able to move freely, and without Enzo holding me up.
The studio is filled with a soft yellow glow from the fairy lights I asked him to put up for me. He's surrounded the whole room with them, and it feels as if I'm in a fairy tale rather than my dance studio.
I flick on the stereo system and run through my playlist to find a song to dance to. I want to do something different today, so I hit play on Ramsey as she sings "See You Bleed". With my eyes closed, I picture the studio and allow my feet to carry me through a routine. It's nothing special, but when the melody courses through my veins, it feels natural.
No choreography.
Just me.
Just the music.
I spin in a slow pirouette, lifting one leg to stretch into a split, and it feels good to trust my body again. Lowering my foot to the floor, I bend backward, and find no twinge of pain as I twist and turn on the ball of my left foot.
My arms stretch out behind me, as I look up at the ceiling. When I straighten once more, I tip my toe to the bar, and lift my heel to the cool metal pole. I lift my right hand to the ceiling, curving my arm as I lift onto the toes of my left foot. I do that a few times before the chorus hits, and I hear the clap of hands.
I snap my gaze to the door to find Enzo leaning against the door frame. He looks so good in a crisp white unbuttoned shirt. It hangs open, pulled from the confines of his belt. His black slacks hug his thighs, but he's barefoot which makes him seem rough, as if he's just been in a fight and he's ready to take advantage of me.
The thought makes my core pulse with the need to be filled. My cheeks heat as he pushes off the wall and stalks toward me. His slow approach has my heart thudding against my chest and my stomach twisting with need.
I move to lower my foot, but Enzo's dangerous tone stops me. "Don't. Stay just like that," he orders as he reaches me. I turn to regard him in the mirror, his reflection makes my skin tingle with awareness. The heat of him cocoons me, and his hands grip my hips.
"Enzo." His name is a whisper dripping with need.
"You look so pretty," he tells me, allowing his one hand to trail up my body before clasping his fingers around my throat. "But I like it better when you cry," he informs me in a husky drawl that has every inch of my body sparking with electricity.
His other hand releases my hip before gripping the flimsy material of my tights and he tugs until I hear the tear that rips the cloth from my body. Then, the familiar blade is against my skin, but even the cold metal doesn't cool my body as he trails it up between my breasts.
"Are you ready, little dancer?" he coos in my ear causing goose bumps to rise in the wake of his question. I nod. But Enzo isn't appeased. "Answer me," he growls in my ear this time making me whimper with need. His fingers tighten around my neck, and he tugs me flush against him. My ass against the hardness of his cock.
"Yes, Enzo," I whisper, and then he slowly slices down my middle, the top I'm wearing falling away and baring my tits to him. My pussy is dripping as the next song comes on. The dark, thumping beat of Zolita fills the room as she sings, "Hurt Me Harder".
The corner of Enzo's mouth quirks as if he's also listening to the lyrics. His hand shifts and he nicks the soft skin above my belly button. He tips his thumb against the small wound and brings it to his lips. "Perfectly fucking delicious," he whispers against my cheek before he steps back leaving me shivering at his absence. "I'm going to fuck you just like that, little dancer. Don't move." His words send lust thrumming through my veins.
The hiss of his zipper is loud above the music, but perhaps that's because my senses are on alert. The heavy bass of Sickick's "Kill Me Slowly" comes through the speaks, and I'm about to speak when Enzo thrusts into me in one feral push and I'm filled to the hilt with his thick, hard cock.
"Oh god!" My voice is shrill, but he doesn't stop. His hips move back before slamming against my ass, my one leg still up on the beam as he uses me for his pleasure. But that's not like him because his hands trail to my front, one grips my neck and the other taunts my clit until the one knee I'm trying to hold up starts shaking as my release nears the precipice.