Page 81 of His Turn

Chapter Twenty-One - Bric

I grab hold of her hand before she gets away, not wanting to let her go. But she tugs me and brings me with her down the long hallway, on the opposite side of the apartment from her bedroom.

I have a million questions as she leads me into her ballet studio and flicks on the lights.

“This,” she says, “is the only room that matters.”

It’s fairly large as far as rooms go in downtown apartments. But this place is company-owned so it makes sense they’d have a studio for their resident dancer. The floors are blond hardwood. One of the long-sided walls is covered in mirrors and has a ballet barre running its length. The opposite wall is aged red brick.

“I like the mirrors,” I say.

She snickers. “I bet you do.”

I turn to her, place my hands exactly where they were back in the living room, and grip her hips tight as I pull her close again. “Stand very still, Nadia Wolfe.”

She scrunches up her eyebrows, like she’s about to ask a question, but my hands are already sliding down the curve of her hips, then her thighs, and then the soft leather boots hiding her calves as I crouch down.

Her pussy is right in front of my face. But there’s plenty of time for that later. I’m interested in her boots.

I reach around the back of one leg and tug the zippier down. “Don’t fall, Nadia,” I say, lifting up her foot as I pull the boot off.

She steadies herself with two hands on my shoulders. “Don’t drop me, Elias.”

I grin up at her, tossing the boot aside. Then go for the other one. Two seconds later her bare calves are in front of me and my hands can’t help themselves. I press my palms against her well-toned muscles and lean my face into her thigh, kissing the soft skin between her legs. When I nip, she sucks in air between her teeth and places her hands on the top of my head. Urging me on. Practically begging for more.

I stand up instead, place my hands on her shoulders, and turn her around. “Lift up your hair,” I say.

She obeys. Which is a very nice change after all the power plays we’ve had over the past several days.

The zipper on her dress comes next. I peel the soft cashmere off her shoulders, let it fall down her arms, and then it rests on her hips for a moment, until one small tug gets it around the curve of her ass and it puddles at her feet.

“Turn back,” I say.

She faces me. Studies me as I study her. Bites her lip as all the questions flood her mind.

She’s wearing light pink lingerie. A beautiful satin demi-bra. Not the girlish kind with lace or bows, but the womanly kind with no trim, just purpose—because her breasts don’t need decorations. I take a moment to touch them, looking Nadia in the eyes as I squeeze her. Fondle her. Then I lean in and kiss her.

Her fingertips are in my hair and it’s a passionate response. Her longing and desire a total turn-on.

When I break eye contact it’s to look at her panties, a matching pink satin thong that can’t hide the fact that her pussy is bare and smooth. I place my hand between her legs, one finger positioned between her folds, and push a finger against her clit.

The panties become wet.

I nod my head to the corner of the room where she’s got a few pairs of pointe shoes scattered around. “Put on the shoes, Nadia.”

She looks over to the corner, stares at it like her brain needs a moment to catch up with the request, then looks at me.

I’m waiting for another fight. I’m not sure what she could possibly object to with that request, but I’m sure she’ll think of something.

But I’m surprised again. Because she turns away, walks over to the shoes, and sits down on the floor. One leg up, bent at the knee, the other resting on the floor so her legs are open.

She doesn’t smile at me or try to take control—and I think that might be my favorite thing about her right now. Not her body, or her beauty, or the potential for a great fuck tonight. But her compliance.

She slips a pad over her toes, her eyes flicking up to mine before returning to concentrate on her assigned task. I study her fingers as she slips her foot into the shoe, tugging on the elastic, and then twists the long satin ribbons around her ankle.

She repeats this on the other foot. She stretches her feet out, flexing and pointing to make sure they’re comfortable, and then she looks up at me and says, “Now what?”

Such a good girl tonight. I almost don’t know what to make of it.