Текст книги "Rock Bottom"

Автор книги: R. K. Lilley

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

FRANKIE

I pulled her back, turning her until I was hugging her from behind, essentially forcing her to look at the stage.  “What was that?” I asked her through my teeth.

“I want you.  I want to get you off.  You never get off with me, and I want you to.”

“Well, then, my sweet, watch the show.  There is only one way to get me off, and if you’re interested in seeing what it is, it’s about to go down on that stage right now.”

“Touch me,” she whispered, bringing my hands to her breasts.  She was being completely impudent again, but I fondled her.  She was getting a pass tonight.  If anyone had a problem with it, they could talk to me.  And of course, I loved her tits.

“Don’t you ever wear a bra?” I said into her ear, pinching her nipples hard.  Her little black dress was not the sort of thing you were supposed to go braless in, with a chest her size.

She moaned and rubbed against me.  “Not for you.  I know you love to see them bouncing around.  I’ve seen how it distracts you.  I’m not wearing panties either.  I wanted to give you easy access.  I love it when you touch me.”

I shushed her, because she was driving me wild, and because James had just pulled out a large flogger, showing the crowd.  It was a heavy-duty cat o’nine, with braided tails that ended in small silver balls.  Some hardcore shit.

He said something to Jolene, his voice sharp, as I nuzzled into Estella’s neck, and Jolene responded in the affirmative, her voice pleading.

“I love it when you call me your sweet,” Estella whispered, distracting me again.  “It makes me feel pretty.”

“You are pretty, you silly girl.  So pretty it hurts.”

“You really think so?” she asked, sounding downright ecstatic about it.

She was distracted, we both were, by the loud sound of the flogger making contact with flesh.

Estella gasped, and I brought one of my hands up to her neck, gripping, the other still kneading at a soft breast.  “Watch,” I breathed into her ear.

He struck again, and again, the sound startling and arousing.  I glanced up at him briefly, watched his stark muscles playing across his back as he worked his sub over harshly.  I’d seen it before.  I wasn’t looking for me, but more wondering what Estella thought of him, how he moved her, how this moved her.

James worked Jolene over with textbook accuracy, reddening her perfect little ass and thighs, using less force on her back and shoulders.  He knew exactly where to strike and in what order.  He was a pro.

When he finally let up on Jolene, she was quivering and moaning loudly enough that he barked at her to be quiet.

He acknowledged the crowd with the slightest lift of his brows as he undid his dark trousers, pulling out an impressive erection.  The man certainly didn’t have stage fright.

“Holy shit,” exclaimed Estella.

“Yes, I know,” I said wryly.  “He even has a perfect cock.”

“He’s big…and very nicely shaped.”

“He’s basically the most perfect man on the planet if you don’t mind a bit of pain,” I told her tonelessly.  “He’s even a billionaire.  Basically God’s gift to women.”

He pulled a condom from his pocket, opening the packet and rolling it on with swift, economical movements.  He didn’t bother to take off his pants as he moved back behind Jolene, gripping her neck and driving into her, flogger in hand, whipping hard at her hip as he fucked her.

“I’m not sure I have that kind of a pain tolerance,” Estella said, her voice small and afraid.

“The amount of pain you receive from your Dom is purely subjective.  A good Dom will never give you more than you can handle.  A good one will know how to read you.  Jolene is a glutton for punishment.  Those two are demonstrating an extreme, rather than what I would consider the norm.”

“I’d like to try it, but maybe not with that whip he’s using.  It looks very…harsh.”

My heart tried to pound itself out of my chest.  I couldn’t believe that she had watched that, and still wanted to try to please me.  I’d been so certain it would scare her off.  Her reaction was more than I could have hoped for.  “As your Domme, you’d need to trust me to know what to use.  I’d never start you out with something like that.  I don’t need anything that extreme, either.  Not ever.  But I do need something.  I’d probably begin with a riding crop, since that can be one of the softer ways to break you in.”

“Okay.  I’d like that.  Can we try tonight?”

I pinched her nipple hard enough to make her yelp.  “You need to learn how to behave yourself.  I’ve been spoiling you, when what you need to be learning is that I am the one in control here.”

“Please, Frankie—“

“Mistress Abelli.”

“Please, Mistress Abelli, take control.  Do whatever you want with me.  Whatever you need.  Whatever it takes to please you, because that’s what I want.  I can’t stand the way it’s been, with only me enjoying our…encounters.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” I warned her.

“I’ve seen it tonight, right?  I think I do know.  I want to be with you.”

I began to kiss the side of her neck, one hand moving down, tugging up her dress until I found her hot core, fingering her.

Jolene got really loud with her pleasure and, annoyed, I pulled my hand free.  I didn’t want to get Estella off while we were listening to that.  It would surely tarnish the beauty of it.

I watched, my hands on her hips now, as James pulled out of Jolene, still hard.

He untied her, pulling her to the front of the stage, then pushing her to her knees, in profile to their captive audience.

“Open your mouth,” he told her, his tone indifferent.  He was completely submerged in his Dom role, all of his emotions turned off.

She opened wide, and he shoved himself down her throat.  It was an impressive display.  Jolene certainly had some oral talent.

After an impressive amount of deep throating, James dragged himself out of her mouth, pulled off his condom, and promptly came all over her face.

The small crowd burst into enthusiastic applause.

He barely spared Jolene another glance as he tucked himself back into his pants, giving his audience a self-deprecating little smile, and a slight bow of his head.

“That was…interesting.”  Estella sounded as appalled as she was impressed.  The money shot had perhaps taken her out of her comfort zone.

“These demonstrations are generally…over the top.  He was showing off, the hedonist.”

“Do you do…demonstrations?”

That had me studying her intently, because I thought I’d detected a hint of more than idle interest in the question.  “I’ve had quite a few brushes with exhibitionism.  Is that something that might interest you?”

She chewed on her lip so hard that I raised my hand to her face, making her stop by tugging it out of her mouth.  “It does, as long as no one else touches me.”

I flushed, feeling more and more shitty about what had happened with Jolene and James, seeing for the first time that she had a keen sort of vulnerability about her.

“I told you.  That won’t happen again.  I misread you.  Badly.”

“I only want you to touch me, but I want you to do it absolutely anywhere you like, in front of anyone you please.”

I took a few deep breaths, then tugged her to the nearest vacant sofa.  “Lie on your back, and put your hands above your head.”

She obeyed, and I sat down at her hip, my hand rubbing her stomach through her dress.  “Now, no matter what happens, who you feel watching us, I don’t want you looking at their faces.  You understand?  If you make eye contact with any of them, I’m going to punish you.”

She cleared her throat, her eyes on my hand.  “I understand, Mistress Abelli.”

That was uncharacteristically proper for her, and I smiled.  She was learning.

I inched her dress up over her hips, and then her chest.  She was completely bare underneath.

“Keep your hands where they are.  If you move them, I’ll stop what I’m doing it.  Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress Abelli.”

I moved down her body, parting her legs wide, fitting my shoulders between them.

I ate her out, leisurely and thoroughly, teasing her until she moaned loud enough to draw the crowd.

I felt someone hovering too close to us and then heard James speak, authority in his voice.  “Don’t touch her.  She belongs to Frankie.”

“Oh, I apologize,” a very polite male voice responded.  “I thought she was available.”

“She’s not available now,” James replied, sounding amused.  “And won’t be again, I’d wager.”  He was nothing if not perceptive.

“Well, she has magnificent tits,” the other man mused.

I played her with my experienced tongue until she was begging me to make her come, pulling back to nuzzle her thigh every time I thought she was close.  I was torturing her, a delicious sort of torture, the torture of unrequited passion.  I wanted badly to tie her up, but I refused to do something to her in front of a crowd that we’d never even tried before in private.

I didn’t let up until I heard a tiny sob escape her throat.  Then I pulled back to look up at her.  I climbed up her body until I was straddling her waist.  I fondled her breasts and watched the tears trail down her face, her lush lips trembling, turned on by the sight.

“Why are you crying, my sweet?” I asked her.

“It’s too much, Mistress.  I need…I need—“

“To get off?”

“Yes, I need it,” she sobbed.

“Imagine how I feel, touching you like this.  You think I don’t need to get off?”

“Please do.  Do it.  Whatever you need to do to me.  I want it.”  Her lovely accent made the words into poetry.

I patted her cheek, then wiped away each tear.  “Later.  Later I’ll take what I need from you.  For now I’ll let you have your pleasure.”  I climbed back down her body.

When I finally let her come, she sobbed and keened, her body jerking.

Our audience cheered enthusiastically.

We were driving home in silence when Estella burst out with, “I don’t want you to share me.  I want you to be mine, just mine, and moreover,” she swallowed, her accent noticeably thickening, “I want you to want me all for yourself.  I don’t just want to be exclusive.  I want you to want it as badly as I do.”

“Well, if you’re bi—“

“I’m not a confused little bi girl, Frankie.  I haven’t been with a man since I was too young to know better.  James, that man you made me kiss, is the first man to have his mouth on me since I was fifteen.”

“You were looking at him like…”

“He was lovely.  Beauty is beauty, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him.”

“Okay,” I allowed, not really believing her, not wanting to.  I already felt too in over my head.  “When you say you don’t want me to share you, does that mean you’d like to avoid the exhibitionism, as well?  Was that too much for you?”

Her hand slid over my thigh.  “No, I don’t want to avoid that, and it wasn’t too much.”

“Good.  I’d have done more to you, but there are some things I’d like to try in private with you first.  And yes, I’d very much like to become exclusive.  I’ve wanted you to myself from the start, Estella.”  I meant it, and I realized that I didn’t really have a choice but to try with her, even at the risk of being hurt.  I was already in too deep.

She was suddenly plastered to my side, nearly making me swerve off the road.  She kissed my cheek, again and again, saying something fast in Portuguese and then in English, “I love you.  I’m in love with you.”

I pulled over, unbuckling my seatbelt and climbing over her, until we were face to face.  “Well, now you’ve done it, my sweet.  We can’t go back now.  I’m keeping you.”  I kissed her, feeling happier than I could remember.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DANIKA

“A surprise?” I asked him as he led me to his bedroom.  We’d been apart for five days, but as always with our separations, it felt like longer.

I gasped in delight as I saw the picture hanging above his bed.

It had been taken on our wedding day.  I was clutching my bouquet of white roses, wearing my little yellow dress.  Tristan had his arm around me, and we were both grinning like fools.

He’d blown it up and had it framed.  He could be so sweet.  The sweetest.

“What a wonderful surprise!” I exclaimed.

“That wasn’t the surprise,” he said into my ear.  His tone alone made me shiver in delighted anticipation.

I didn’t have to ask, as he was fitting a blindfold over my eyes.  It had been a while since we’d played like this, and I’d found myself fixating on it when we were apart, fantasizing about it more than any of the other things we did.

I held perfectly still as he stripped me down to nothing and took control.

He pulled me to the bed, pushing me down onto my back.  His hands were gentle but firm as he pulled my legs wide apart and began to tie both ankles to his bedposts.  He kissed the arch of each foot when he was done, and moved on to my hands.  He bound my wrists, then kissed the tip of every finger, making me shiver, my breasts tightening.

He moved away and even through my blindfold, I could see the slight change when the light in the room was dimmed.

I heard him light a match.  Almost immediately, the sweet scent of almonds filled the air.

The bed dipped as I felt him sit beside my hip, his hand going to my stomach, rubbing, kneading.  I couldn’t help myself; I moaned.

He fondled me.  He stroked my thighs, rubbing close but staying just shy of my sex.  He used his magic hands to play with my body, but only to tease, until I was gasping and begging him in short little breaths for more.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice thick with some emotion that’s root eluded me.

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.  Like this, under his hands, Tristan had taught me that he would always take care of me, pleasure me, satisfy me.

Under his hands, I felt healed of all of the fear for this act that had once defined me.  So when tied to his bed, yes, I trusted him implicitly.

“Good,” he said, and moved away.

He was gone for a few minutes, and the sweet almond scent became stronger, permeating the room in a delicious, invasive way.

He came back, the bed dipping with his weight again, and he set something warm and metal onto my stomach.

I gasped.

He chuckled.

“What is that?” I asked.

“I’m not going to tell you.  I’m going to show you.”

The blindfold was secure, but I could see dancing light just bleeding through the bottom.  He’d brought the candle close.

I sucked in another hard gasp as I felt hot liquid dribble onto my collarbone.  It didn’t hurt, but it was shocking.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s hot wax.”

I was trembling as I waited for him to do it again.

It landed on my stomach that time, and I writhed, pulling against the restraints.  It still wasn’t painful, just so intense I could hardly stand it.

I moaned as he poured a few drops onto my inner thigh, my upper arm, the inside of my knee, alternating to the sensitive spots on my body, but avoiding all of the blatantly sexual ones.

He trickled more wax onto my neck, my wrists, my open palms, and the tops of my feet.

I panted, in a state.

He dripped tiny amounts onto my fingers, my ankles, my hips, my ribs.

I was close to begging for just one touch of his fingers.

He drizzled just drops onto my knees, the bend of my arms, the valley between my breasts.

“Please,” I uttered, wanting, needing anything beyond this delicious teasing game of his.

His answer was to drip a generous amount onto my quivering breasts.  I cried out.  It still wasn’t a cry of pain, but one of want.

He splashed some directly onto my pelvis, making my hips jerk, then circle in a plea.

Finally, mercifully, he put his hands on me, rubbing the soft wax into my skin, massaging, caressing, squeezing, working.

His hands were reverent, worshipful, devoted, loving; magic.

When he finally moved on top of me, and pushed his hips between my thighs, I was primed.

He buried himself to the hilt with one deep thrust.  I’d already been on the edge, and I came, crying out, with a few heavy thrusts.

He pulled out of me, and I moaned a protest, but he returned to me quickly.

I stilled, listening intently as I heard the faintest buzzing sound from directly in front of me.

He positioned himself at my entrance again, working himself in more slowly this time, but just as deep, and when he was buried, I felt what the buzzing sound had been.  Some sort of vibrator that was attached to a cock ring, I assumed, because it left me as he pulled out, then made startling contact again when he was buried home, making direct and perfect contact with my clit.

He was relentless, taking me over the edge again before he took his pleasure, spilling deep inside of me and staying buried deep for a long time, kissing my neck, my mouth, murmuring the sweetest things to me.  “I love you, Danika.   You being mine is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Yes.  Yours. Every one of my heartbeats is for you.  Every breath, Tristan.”

“Oh, boo.  You beautiful girl,” he groaned.  “You’re giving me too much.”  He trembled.  “You’re spoiling me rotten.”

“Every heartbeat.  Every breath, Tristan.  Yours.”

After, as we lazed in the bath and scrubbed the excess wax off, he asked me, “Did you like that?”

“Yes.  I’d have guessed that it would hurt more.”

“It’s a low temperature candle, very soft wax.  I know you don’t like pain, so I thought it would be a good balance.  Frankie suggested it.”

“And what about the other?”

“The vibrating cock ring?”  His grin was a wicked white flash of teeth.  “That one was my idea.”

I grinned back.  “I figured.”

TRISTAN

I was late again.

I felt like a jerk, as I’d missed her last two performances, and I seemed to be late to everything these days.

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but time had just become less and less important to me.  Days disappeared in a blur, and I kept telling myself that tomorrow I’d be better, I’d pay more attention, and be on time, but then a few more days would pass, and I’d realize that I’d done it again.

Danika was a saint about it most of the time.  She’d look at my face, her eyes getting soft, and ask me if I was okay, and what could she do to make it better?  There was always something.  Just that soft look in her eyes made it better.

I’d bought a suit for the event, since it was being held in one of the swankier casinos.  It had been way more than I thought any piece of clothing was worth, but I’d paid the price, even had the thing tailored.  It was all black, from the jacket to the tie, but at least I wouldn’t embarrass her in front of her dancing peers by going with the dirty rocker look.  I was always proud to have Danika on my arm, and I wanted to return the favor.

Frankie and her new girlfriend, Estella, were waiting for me in the lobby, even though I was late.

She rolled her eyes when she saw me rushing in, but she got over it in a hurry, introducing me proudly to her new girl.  I smiled at her.  She was a cute little thing.  They looked good together.

I thought I must make Estella shy, either that or she was very soft-spoken, because she barely spoke, just letting Frankie and I catch up.

Frankie’s eyes got serious as she studied my face.

She touched a hand to my cheek.  “What am I going to do with you, Tristan?  You look strung out and tired.  What’s going on with you?”

I shook my head, pulling away.  “I’m fine.  Let’s just go in, okay?”  I didn’t need to be told that I looked bad.  I knew it.  I just needed a little dose of Danika, and I’d be better for a while.

The venue was not what I was expecting.  It was bigger, with stadium seating, and a big enough dance floor for several couples to be dancing at once, which they currently were.  We were late enough that they’d already started, though I didn’t see Danika.

We took our seats, just a few rows back from the judges, and I asked Frankie quietly, “Do you think we might have missed her?”

She shook her head.  “No, but she’ll be out soon.  Good thing you showed up when you did.  And it’s about damn time, by the way, that you showed up to one of these.”

“Tell me about it.  Trust me, I don’t need to hear it.  I know I’ve screwed up.”

“Good thing Danika would forgive you just about anything.  That girl is so far gone in love with you, it scares me.  You know you’re a lucky bastard, don’t you?”  There was a clear reprimand in her tone.

“I do,” I said quietly.

“You know you need to get your act together, don’t you?” she asked very, very quietly, so even Estella, who sat on the other side of her, couldn’t catch it.  “I hear you’ve been using some shit that is unacceptable.  Lay off the hard stuff, okay?  If you won’t do it for me, think about Danika, and how she fucking worships you.  Do it for her.”

I nodded.  “I know.”

She was right, and I did know it.  I resolved to do better.  It was just so nice to forget sometimes, to escape into numbness, but I knew that I could quit anytime, and soon was that time.  Very soon, I promised myself.

We didn’t have to wait long before Danika and her partner took to the floor, walking the circuit hand in hand, their postures very proper.

She wore a red dress, though I wasn’t quite sure you could call it that.  It was skin tight and backless, with the sides cut out all the way to the front, showing off her sexy little hips, and the top dipping low, showing a deep V between her breasts that had me salivating.

I had no idea how the thing even stayed on, there was so much material missing.  A slit in the flowing skirt reached high up on her thigh.  The only part of her that seemed to be fully covered up was her arms, and even those were only covered by see-through red lace.

She was luscious.  A Goddess.

Her hair was pulled back into a sleek chignon, leaving her exquisite, delicate features prominent, her rosebud mouth painted red.  Her eye makeup was black and dramatic, and even from several feet away, I could see how it made her pale eyes stand out, more striking than ever.

She was so beautiful it made my chest ache.

Her partner was slight but muscular, and almost exactly her same height with the heels she was wearing.  He was wearing tight pants and a shirt that was open almost to his naval.  His hair was brown, his face nondescript.

I thought he looked like a punk.

They began to dance, and it was instantly captivating.

It was an intense, dramatic dance, full of sharp turns, cutting movements, precise swivels, and sweeping, sensual turns.  Danika would lift her leg high in the air, and her dance partner would catch her ankle, and lower it softly back to the floor before they swept off again, into another turning, twisting round across the floor.

Her hand would often hook behind his neck, or he would throw her back over his arm until her body was contorted beautifully into a perfect arch.

It was a passionate dance, full of anger, tension, and desire.  At one point in the routine, he grabbed her face rather roughly in both hands, and I’m not sure how that made me react outwardly, because I was so up in my head, but Frankie reached over, gripped my arm, and murmured, “Easy there, tiger.”

Danika was a seductress out there, each twist of her hips, every dramatic thrust of her shoulder sucking us all deeper into her spell.  She captured the audience.  Enslaved them.

Even I wasn’t immune, though she already owned me.  Completely.

Was that sexual tension between them?  I knew there was some, at least on his end.  With the way that punk looked at her, I was going to be counting to ten a lot tonight.

The lines their bodies made together were dramatic, and undeniably sexual.  Was it possible that she wasn’t attracted to that punk, at least a little, considering how much time they must have spent together, practicing this?

The lifts made my fists clench, but I told myself I was being a caveman, as Danika would have said.

She moved with such a bewitching elegance that at times I hardly even noticed she had a partner, but at other times, I could focus only on how close that partner of hers was, on how much he touched her.  The way his hands moved over her was very free, very familiar.

There was one long twirl at the end.  It went on and on, and Danika’s leg was lifted over that punk’s hip, their bodies flush.  She was basically straddling his thigh.

Their bodies made full contact for a complete fifteen seconds.

I counted.

I clapped longer and louder than anyone when it was finished.

They got third, which I thought was complete bullshit.  There hadn’t been a woman out there that could hold a candle to Danika, in beauty or in talent.

“That’s bullshit,” I muttered, not quite under my breath.

Frankie heard me, and elbowed me.  “Calm down.  Third is really good.  You will say congratulations, and tell her she did a great job, like a good boyfriend.”

I shot her a disgruntled look.  “Of course she did a great job.  I’m talking about the judges.  Third is bullshit.  I don’t have to know a thing about the tango to see who looked the best out there.”

Frankie shrugged.  “Third is great.  They’ve got to put in their time, and they’re both pretty new at this.  Getting third as an intermediate at only their third competition is really good.  Subtle imperfections we can’t even see, which our amateur eyes don’t even pick up, are what the judges are trained to spot.  So pipe down, and don’t cause a scene.”

“I’m not going to cause a scene.  I’d just like to meet the judges, and tell them that they’re full of shit with that third place fucking nonsense.  This thing was fucking rigged.”

She patted my arm.  “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Fucking rigged,” I said again, under my breath, but I did drop it.  Even more than I wanted to say my piece, I wanted not to embarrass Danika on her night.

At the after party, I dragged her out into an empty hallway for a moment alone.  I was all over her in that sexy fucking dress.

“I’m going to fuck you standing up in this little scrap of nothing you’re wearing.  Where’s the closest closet?  I swear I’ll be quick.”

She laughed, kissing my cheek.  “So you liked it?  Thank you for coming out.  I know this isn’t really your thing.”

“If it’s your thing, it’s my thing, and you were amazing out there.  It’s art, what you do.  I loved it.”

She blinked several times, then wiped at her eyes.  “Thank you.  You’re so sweet.  I’m so happy you enjoyed it.  Frankly, I thought you might be bored.”

I shook my head emphatically.  “Show me where that closet is, and I’ll show you just how bored I wasn’t.  I could watch you dance forever.  It’s my favorite thing in the world that doesn’t involve touching you.  Seriously.”

She kissed me, her smile exuberant.  “You can be so sweet,” she said into my lips.

I groaned, dragging her against my erection, grinding it into her stomach, my hands on her ass.  She kept calling me sweet, but I wasn’t feeling sweet, I was feeling ravenous, and maybe a bit violent.

“We have to get back,” she gasped.

“Give me five minutes,” I growled, inching her skirt up, “I’ll make it count.”

“Not here!  Let’s at least find someplace private!”

I stepped away from her, panting.  I was holding onto the last piece of my self-control by one tiny thread.  “Lead on.  I wasn’t kidding about a closet.”

“You can’t mess up my hair, okay?  This party will go on for hours, and I want to look my best when I’m meeting all these new people.”

I laughed.  She had no problem with me screwing her brains out in a closet, but she was worried about her hair.  I thought it was too fucking adorable.

Her nose wrinkled as she saw me laughing.  “Shut up.  It took the hairdresser two hours to get it just right, so I want to get full use out of it.”

I was still laughing as she led me down the hallway.

She tried each door we passed until we found one that was unlocked.  After we got in, it was another chore to find the lights.

I took vague note of the fact that it was some sort of office before I was pinning her to the door, lifting that wisp of a dress up to her hips.

I freed myself with one hand, the other fumbling with her top, trying to pull it down off her shoulders.

She shook her head.  “It’s taped on in a few places,” she explained as she took my hand in hers, sliding it through the opening in her side so I could touch her, skin on skin.  My hand snaked up to grip her breast.

I groaned, shifting my hips, rubbing against her until I felt her warm, wet entrance.   I pushed in deep, deeper, going until I was buried to the hilt.  I didn’t move for one beat, two, just enjoying the perfect feel of it.

With a rough groan, I began to move.

I loved her response, her writhing hips, her gasping, ragged cries.  I loved the smell of her sweet breath as it panted unsteadily against my face.

My movements became rough, jerky, as I got close.  I growled and pawed.  My eyes closed as I savored every tight squeeze, every wet slide.

“Oh God Tristan, I love you!” she cried.

Buried deep in her, utterly submerged, body and soul, I came.

Pulling out of her just about had me attacking her again, but I controlled myself.  This round had been enough to take the edge off.  I could wait a few hours for the rest.

We cleaned up in the nearest bathroom, and Danika took a few minutes to straighten her clothing, and refresh her makeup.

“That dress,” I said slowly, letting the words drawl out of my mouth like a caress.

She smiled her seductress smile.  It was overkill, at this point.  “I knew you’d either love it or hate it.”

“Can’t it be both?”

She laughed.  “Or that.  It’s part of the show.  It’s to catch the judges’ eyes.”

“So you’re saying that I need to go take out some judges?”

She shook her head, still smiling.  “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.  In case I didn’t tell you, you look beautiful.  That dress is infuriating, but it is ravishing on you.”

She flushed in pleasure.  “Thank you.  Compliments from you are my absolute favorite.”

I let that one roll around in my head, taking it to mean that she’d gotten a lot of compliments from people that weren’t me.

That was hardly surprising, but still not reassuring.  The caveman part of me that she liked to tease me about would have preferred to keep her locked away, for my eyes only.

“Your partner,” I began.

She waved me off.  “He’s harmless and a very nice guy, so please don’t scare him off.  We’re learning together, and it’s been a good partnership so far.”

I nodded, but my jaw clenched, and I considered dragging her into another room to help me cope with my temper in a way that made us both happy.