A Dance for Him (45 page)

What if mom wasn’t just reckless and selfish, which is what I’ve thought of her over the years? What if maybe it
also
never occurred to her that anyone would ever miss her, that her absence would matter to anybody …

After all those years at boarding school interspersed by very occasional visits to gramps and grandma, which was basically
my
experience as well, perhaps she too simply didn’t think she would matter all that much to anyone at all, not to dad, not to me …

For the first time in a
really
long time I find myself feeling sorry for her.

Strangely, he seems to sense that I’m going through something, and I feel him gently squeeze my waist, just before I’m about to open the door to my room.

When I look at him, his expression is much softer, reassuring.

“Look, Evie,” he says. “I’m not a tyrant. You don’t have to prove to me that you didn’t have your phone with you, I believe you. I was just distraught, you know? I didn’t want to lose you.”

He didn’t want to lose me? Lorenzo Moretti, who could have any woman he damn well pleases, didn’t want to lose me?

It’s a statement that startles and bewilders me, but also moves me profoundly.

Especially because it doesn’t sound like a line, like something said just to score points and impress - he’s speaking quietly, with a serious expression, as though it was just a statement of fact.

I kiss him impulsively, and he returns my kiss passionately, tenderly, fervently, as though he wanted to claim me somehow …

“I know I don’t have to,” I murmur afterwards, looking into those huge dark hypnotic eyes of his. “But I do want to. And besides, I’d like to see your messages.”

It’s his turn to look startled, and I could have sworn that his cheeks are now carrying the faintest hint of a blush.

God, he’s so adorable when he blushes!

I open the door, we walk in, and I retrieve my phone from the charger.

And then I read his messages, read the mounting anxiety in them …

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, “I had no idea you’d be worried, certainly not to that extent.”

He shushes me with a smile and a kiss. “I think I’ve just been afraid of losing you all this time,” he says.

“But why do you think you would lose me?”

He looks at me with a sort of tender melancholy in his eyes.

“I don’t know, so many things. I’m so much older than you are, for instance. You’re so young and beautiful and have such a bright future in front of you, I figured you’d probably break my heart if I allowed my feelings for you to get out of hand. And yet they have. More importantly, I don’t care. I love you, Evie. I’ve never felt about anyone else the way I feel about you. I know I got that call from Sofia earlier, and I know you’ve probably heard the rumors, and it’s true we were involved on a casual, on-and-off basis. But I’ve told her about you and made very clear that I’m no longer available the way I used to be, that I don’t want to be available the way I used to be, not any more. Because it’s you I love.”

I can hardly process what he’s saying about Sofia - I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he’s just told me that
he loves me
. And he was afraid I’d break his heart?

To think that I’d spent all that time thinking that
he
was going to break my heart, and that I was going to have to accept that as a very real possibility if I got involved with him!

Not to mention that we both appear to have arrived at the same, mirror-image conclusion, that we were going to risk it anyway …

“Oh, Renzo, I love you too, you must know that,” I whisper, and he smiles and kisses me again.

“And then there is one thing I haven’t told you,” he says afterwards, looking slightly guilty all of a sudden. “One thing that I should have told you earlier, which I couldn’t bring myself to, because I was afraid I’d lose you forever. For that I reproach myself …”

I think I can guess what he’s referring to …

“It’s about mom, isn’t it? You were in love with her, or maybe you were her boyfriend?”

He looks astounded. “You suspected it all this time?”

I smile ruefully. “It was rather obvious from the way you reacted when I said she was my mom. And, I mean, she was a very beautiful woman, so I’m not surprised. Also, gramps always seemed uncomfortable when your name came up, I never could understand why until our conversation the other day, and then it all made sense. I wanted to reassure you, but it seemed like a sensitive topic, and I didn’t want to bring up anything you didn’t want to talk about.”

“There’s something else you need to know, Evie. She wasn’t just an ex-girlfriend. It’s true that I never did anything with her - you know, nothing like anything we’ve done, not even what we did last night - but Victoria and I were very briefly married before she married your father. It’s one of those things that obviously never made my official bio. We ran off to city hall, and then when we announced it to your grandfather, he told her she would have to choose between me and her trust fund, and she picked the latter, so the marriage was annulled.”

Ah, so
that’s
what that strange evening was all about!

“Well, if it was annulled, then it doesn’t quite count, does it? Especially if it was
that
brief,” I reply cheerily.

A look of relief spreads over his handsome face. “So you don’t think I am some kind of dirty old perv lusting after his almost-but-not-quite stepdaughter? I swear, I had no idea you were Victoria’s daughter when I met you.”

I laugh - he sounds so uncharacteristically scrupulous about it all.
Conscientious
, almost, which is endearing, perhaps because so unexpected, and yet oddly reassuring …

“No, Renzo,” I murmur flirtatiously. “Mostly because I’m not
really
your stepdaughter, as you point out yourself. And as for you being a dirty old perv lusting after me - I have to say I kind of like that side of you …”

His eyes gleam as I let my hand wander over his chest while looking at him seductively.

“You do, do you?”

His voice is quite different now - soft, growly, suggestive …

“I like your pervy side, Renzo. The side that got even harder when I said I wanted to be your naughty little girl. The side that was talking dirty to me this morning, the side that likes playing rough with me, pounding ruthlessly into me …”

He smiles, this time wolfishly, his eyes dark with arousal.

“I’m glad to hear that, Evie,” he says. “Because I expect you’re going to be seeing a lot of that side of me …”

Before very long, we’re making out in his room again, and he’s undressing me as we kiss, his hands electric against my skin as he eases my dress and panties off.

There’s something about being touched by him that makes me shudder with excitement … Or perhaps it’s the hunger in his eyes as he looks at me, especially now that I’m completely naked.

Up till I met him I’d never realised how intoxicating it could be to be looked at, really looked at, by a man.

To be
seen
…

We tumble onto his bed. He’s kissing me ravenously as he unbuttons his shirt and takes it off, and once unencumbered by it, he begins moving around a bit more, kissing my neck, my shoulders, and then my breasts, which he cups and squeezes before taking a stiff nipple into his mouth and sucking on it, sending tremors of pleasure up my spine.

His other hand, meanwhile, wanders down between my legs, and he takes a break from licking my nipple to smirk sexily at me when he feels how wet I am.

It’s clear he takes pleasure in my excitement. Of course, it also excites me that he’s pleased, and so it’s a perfect cycle …

His finger slides easily into me, then slides out again before being replaced by two fingers. It’s a sensation that is wonderfully familiar, and for a moment the thought flashes through my mind:
I was made to be filled up by him
.

I’m still a bit sore from the pounding he gave me earlier, but for some reason it just turns me on all the more, just reminds me of how tightly and perfectly he fit into me …

He explores me for a bit, making me moan, but it seems he wants to make me wait a bit longer for satisfaction this time.

Perhaps he’s punishing me for making him wait for me earlier?

In any case, after letting me buck my hips wantonly into him as I chase my orgasm, he withdraws his fingers, then gets out of bed, where he grabs something from the pocket of the jacket he wore last night, then takes off his pants.

I whimper at first, wanting so much to have something fill up my pussy, wanting so much to come, but when I realise he doesn’t intend to give me what I want, at least not just yet, I make my way to the edge of the bed in the meantime so I can watch him - watch the rippling of his muscles as he undresses, watch the way his splendid cock springs out once freed from his clothing.

He sees me looking at him and smiles. “Lie on your back so that your head’s dangling off the side of the bed,” he orders, his voice hoarse with excitement.

My eyes widen. I know what’s coming up - I’ve seen enough online to know what he’s going to do to me - and as I adjust my position accordingly I feel my juices gushing out of me.

I’m a lot wetter than I even thought I was …

As I expected, once I’m in place, he approaches and taps my cheek, as though telling me to open up wider, and before I know it, I feel the head of his cock between my lips, feel it pushing into me, taste the familiar salty flavor of his pre-cum.

I can tell he’s being careful, and in order to reassure him I begin sucking on his engorged shaft, as if to tell him that I do want to take all of him into me. Of course, I can’t see much apart from his balls, but I hear him groan as he caresses my cheek and pushes further into me, so that the tip of his cock is in my throat.

It feels thrillingly dirty and porny, lying there naked, all up close and personal with his cock and balls, knowing that I’m completely exposed for his viewing pleasure, that he’s completely in control.

A muffled moan escapes me as I open my legs instinctively to show him even more.

His breath catches, and he begins to move in and out of my mouth - slowly, as though to let me get used to it, just enough to make me gag slightly and adjust my reflexes accordingly to compensate for that.

“I want to see you play with your pussy, Evie, but not to the point of coming.”

I obey, whimpering partly from pleasure at being allowed to stimulate myself, partly from disappointment at being forbidden to come.

As I begin playing with my clit and my soaking folds, pleasure floods through my system, and it’s almost as though he instinctively picks up on that, because he starts thrusting harder into me, fucking my mouth.

Between the breath control required to accommodate the face-fucking he’s giving me and the necessity of keeping myself from coming, it’s hard to think of anything else, but fortunately he doesn’t keep me on that edge forever.

Instead, after he’s used my mouth for a while, he pulls out and tosses a small foil packet between my breasts.

When I pick it up, I realise it’s a condom packet that he’s already torn open in preparation for this.

Which is very considerate, since I’ve never handled one of these before, and my fingers are wet from my explorations below in any case …

“Put it on me, Evie,” he growls. “I want to fuck your tight young pussy.”

“You’re not going to fuck me like you did this morning?” I ask, slightly disappointed. “Don’t you want to come inside my pussy, fill it with your cum?”

His eyes darken. “Don’t tempt me, beautiful. There’s nothing I would like more than to fill up your pussy … although giving you a baby comes close. But that won’t be for a while. You’re a great artist, and you’re only nineteen. This is not the time for that.”

“But I want to feel your cum inside me,” I pout flirtatiously.

It’s funny, this wasn’t something I’d fantasised much about before, but I’m feeling incredibly horny and dirty at the moment, and the idea of feeling his seed drip out of me afterwards suddenly feels terribly compelling.