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“Ilya, I–” she gasps, her shoulders tensing.
I don’t want to hear her explanations or excuses. I don’t think I can take them. Instead, I grip her head firmly between my palms and bring my lips down to hers, crushing them in a passionate kiss. Whitney whimpers as her fingers close around my wrists, and I don’t know if she’s about to push me away, to tell me it’s too late. But it’s not up to her. I can’t let her go.
“I am not done with you yet,” I growl as I break our kiss and pull back just enough to peer into her dark-chocolate eyes. “You don’t get to fall for anyone else, not until I’ve made it perfectly clear that our contract is over, and I have you until the end of the year. Do you understand?”
Whitney trembles beneath my touch as she remains mute, her eyes filled with intense emotion I can’t read. That only furthers my anxiety-laced anger, and my hands drop to her upper arms as I grip her and move her forcefully back until her shoulders meet the floor-to-ceiling wall of mirrors. She gasps as she impacts with the reflective surface, and I don’t hesitate as my fingers curl around the straps of her leotard and pull it down over her shoulders. I strip her of her clothes right there in the studio, making quick work of it as I take her dance skirt along with her leotard then return for her leggings, panties, and shoes.
She doesn’t object, seeming too shocked to move as she shivers in front of me. And then I rise, taking her hands as I force them over her head and pin them against the studio mirror. She looks glorious and so fucking enticing after weeks without touching her. It doesn’t help that images of our last time together flash through my mind, reminding me of how sexy Whitney looks when she takes what she wants from me.
“You’re mine,” I rasp as I transfer both of her wrists to my left hand and drag my right hand down her arm and over her breasts, groping her as I make my way down her body. Pressing her against the mirror with my arm and chest, I peer deep into her eyes as I make my point.
Whitney swallows hard, her whole body trembling against me, and I don’t know if it’s from fear, cold, anticipation, or something else entirely. I don’t care. I need her with a level of desperation I’ve never known before, and whatever it is, I will make it better.
When my fingers reach my belt, I shift to unbuckle it and my jeans, shoving the fabric aside to pull out my painfully hard cock. I don’t waste time checking to see if she’s ready for me, but as I force her legs open with my knee and guide my cockhead to her entrance, she’s already slick with arousal.Arousal for me? Arousal for her handsy partner?The thought almost drives me mad with jealousy.
Whitney cries out as I shove deep inside her, and my free hand shifts to her hip, holding her in place against the ballet barr as I fuck her.
“Tell me you are mine,” I command, leaning close to her as I thrust hard. “Promise me you haven’t been with anyone else since the last time we were together.” I need to hear those words more than I need oxygen. And it feels so good to be reclaiming Whitney as I demand what I’m craving so intensely.
But rather than the words I want to hear, a sob bursts from Whitney’s lips as she starts to cry. Deep racking sobs rock her body as she fights to suck in air, but the tears fall so hard, she can’t seem to control her breathing.
I freeze, horrified to realize she might actually have slept with someone else for all I know. The conflict contorting her face all but confirms it, and a sharp stab of pain rips through my chest.
“You did, didn’t you? You fucked someone. Who?” I demand, my hand leaving her hip as I slam my fist into the mirror beside her head in my sudden rage. My left hand keeps her hands pinned above her head as I glare into her eyes, demanding the truth.
Whitney barely flinches. Instead, she glowers up at me with intense hatred. “I haven’t been with anyone but youever,” she hisses, her words interrupted by spastic gasps for air.
I’m baffled that she would be upset if she hasn’t been unfaithful. “What are you crying about, then?” Confusion fills my tone.
But Whitney’s lips press together in a thin line, and she turns her face away from me, glaring off into the distance.
“Answer me,” I demand, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at me once again.
When she still doesn’t say a word, I growl in frustration. All my pent-up stress combined with my exasperation makes me feel like I just might explode. And I can’t take more of the confusing emotions roiling inside me. I need release. Pulling roughly out of her, I turn Whitney around and shove her against the mirror once more, making her face away from me this time in an attempt to put some distance between us because I feel too vulnerable, too exposed.
Then I lean into her, pinning her arms and chest to the mirror with my own. Whitney gasps as my cock finds her slick slit and I push inside of her, fucking her from behind. I pound into her relentlessly, unsure of whether I’m punishing her or just desperate for some form of relief.
Whitney groans, and I glance up instinctually to see her face pressed against the mirror. Her eyes are closed tight, blocking me from the emotion I might read there. Unfortunately, the reflection of her face makes this somehow more intimate as I watch her expression. I can see she’s hurt from the tension in her face, the deep frown, the lips pressed into a downward-curving line—most likely it’s from something I’ve done, though she won’t tell me what. I know it’s not that I’m fucking her too hard because I’m not being rougher with her than I have been in the past.
Still, I want to make her come. At least give her physical pleasure. Even if she’s found someone else, I want to prove I can make her feel better. Making my way down her body with one hand, I find the peak of her thighs and press against the tiny bundle of nerves there. Shuddering beneath my touch, Whitney moans, and her hips buck back against me.
“You’re mine,” I breathe in her ear as I circle and roll her clit, reinforcing my statement as I claim her body.
Whitney’s tears shift into sobs of pleasure as I pound into her G-spot and torture her clit with unrelenting attention. I can feel her excitement intensifying as her pussy gets wetter with each thrust and her walls start to tighten around me. God, she feels so fucking good, and after weeks of frustration and no reprieve, I’m so ready to blow my load. But I refuse to come before her.
“Come for me,moya feya,” I command, my lips brushing against the soft skin of her earlobe. Then I pinch her clit between my finger and thumb, rolling it at the same time.
Whitney screams with her release, her hips jerking back into me as her pussy grips my cock like a vise. She throbs around me, milking me hard as her walls pull me deeper into her warm, wet depths. My hips spasm as I give three erratic thrusts and shove inside her balls deep before coming hard. An explosion of black fireworks burst behind my eyes as I fill her pussy with my cum, spurting again and again inside her. And all the while, Whitney throbs around me, gripping my cock as if her body is silently begging me to stay.
As the relief slowly seeps into my body, making my limbs heavy, I breathe hard. Whitney’s rapid breaths make her back rise into me and then fall, and I ease off of her, allowing her space so I won’t be crushing her anymore. Now that we’re done, the silence that fills the space between us leaves me with a hole in my chest. Gently, I ease out of Whitney and step back as I release her.
Without a word, she sinks to the floor to collect her discarded clothes. As I tuck my cock away, she dresses efficiently, slipping into her undies and leggings, leotard and skirt all at once and shimmying them up her legs and thighs, then over her hips.
“I’ll drive you home,” I insist as she snaps her straps into place on her shoulders.
“Okay.” Her voice is flat and emotionless, her expression unreadable. Moving to her pile of things, she pulls on her winter coat and beanie, then wraps a scarf around her neck.
I follow her out the door a moment later, suddenly unsure of what else to say or do. We’re silent in the car on the way to her Edgewater Beach apartment, and when we arrive, I drop her off out front rather than parking in the garage with the intention of staying the night. I get the feeling she doesn’t want me in her bed tonight, and besides, I need to clear my head. This visit was supposed to help me do that, but I’m more confused than ever. As I put the car in park, Whitney opens her door and starts to get out without a word.
