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She reaches down to grasp me tight, slowly taking me into herself.
Fuck. Me.
Her hot wetness clings to me as if she never wants to let go. Lizzie sits up with a moan, riding me with the same fluidity she uses when she dances.
I watch her through hooded eyes, my hands clutching her hips as she rocks above me. Her head falls back and her eyes flutter shut. She’s lost in the movements and sensations, and it’s such a fucking stunning sight.
Reaching up, I cup her face. “Look at me,” I order. Lizzie’s eyelids flutter open, and those deep-brown eyes meet mine. “That’s it. Just like that.”
I take over our movements, doing my own version of her dance.
“You’re meant to stay still,” she breathes.
“Not happening.”
With a quick flip, I have her on her back, writhing beneath me. Her long legs wrap around my waist, and I clutch her thighs, driving deeply with each thrust. I bury my face in her neck, sucking and marking the tender flesh as she digs her nails into my back.
When she comes, it’s loud and powerful, her entire body locking in place. I hold off on my own pleasure, not ready for our first round to be over quite yet. Because it’s definitely the first of many.
I don’t plan on leaving that bed until we’re both sore and exhausted. I reach my hand between us, bringing her another one, then two orgasms.
Even then, I keep going, keep worshipping her until she’s boneless and satisfied.
Still, it isn’t enough. I need more. I need all of her.
“You were made for me, Lizzie,” I groan as I thrust deeper.
Needless to say, it doesn’t take me long to come.
Panting, we hold each other close, unable to stop kissing. “You’re mine, and I’m yours,” she says breathlessly. “Always and forever.”
I tangle my fingers in her hair as I rest my forehead against hers. “Always and forever.”
EPILOGUE: LIZZIE
The sun is finally starting to set, which means it no longer shines through the studio’s big windows. I stand in front of the class, watching with pride as the young women move to the music. Their costumes look great, and it feels good to be able to afford to buy them instead of making them myself. I don’t miss those early days at all.
The music finishes, and I clap excitedly. “You guys did so good! You’re more than ready for the recital next week. Your friends and family are going to be so proud seeing you on stage.”
There’s a collection of excited chatter. I’m blown away by how much they’ve grown over the last few weeks.
“Now, everyone,” I say, raising my voice to get the adults’ attention. “Don’t forget the studio will be closed for renovations starting tomorrow, so our final class will take place at the theater where the recital is being held. Also, if you haven’t signed up for the bake sale or would like to volunteer that night, just shoot me an email.”
Naturally, questions come flying at me, and I spend the next five minutes talking to anxious students while waving to those who are leaving. I’d gotten up super early and am ready to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep for the next twelve hours.
Thankfully, a familiar little voice in the crowd lifts my spirits.
“Mommy!”
I turn around and grin as Isaac worms his way through the people, pushing excitedly past them as only a three-year-old can.
“Hey, little man!” I scoop him into a big hug, spinning him around once before setting him down. “Oof. You’re getting heavy! Pretty soon you’ll be able to pick me up.”
“Silly, Mommy. You’re too big!”
“Gee, thanks, kid.”
Dillan smiles at me as he joins us. “I think Mommy is juuuust right.” He pulls me into a hug and kiss, much to the disdain of our son.
