Page 52 of Depraved

I dance until my feet ache, and I’m slightly dizzy with breathless rapture. All the while, he watches me like he’s been slowly dying without our connection, and our reunion is reviving him as though I’m breathing air back into his lungs.

Finally, he finishes a song and closes the distance between us. He has to hook an arm around my waist to stop me from spinning.

I never want this moment to end.

“You’ll strain yourself,” he admonishes gently.

“I don’t care,” I pant. “I want more.”

“Greedy little thing. I do care. Your feet must be aching.”

He carries me the short distance to the piano and sets me down on the bench before dropping to his knees before me. His big hands trace the outline of my shaking calves with reverence, and he plucks at the bows that bind my dance shoes to my ankles.

I watch in rapt fascination as he slowly unwinds the ribbons and eases the shoes from my feet. They are aching, but I’m barely aware of the discomfort; my whole focus is on him.

Brandon.

Alive and whole and touching me with such tender care that my heart throbs in a painful rhythm.

He presses soft kisses to the tops of my feet, my ankles, my shins. He makes his way up my legs, worshipping my body with every brush of his lips. My hands are in his hair, trailing through the silky strands with my own awestruck devotion.

When he reaches my inner thighs, my legs tremble from more than exertion; I’m so turned on that my core throbs for him in time with my heartbeat.

He hooks his thumbs through the waistband of my leggings and panties, and he slowly drags them down my legs. I compliantly step out of them and tug my sweater off too, eager to be naked for him.

I reach for his shirt, but he places a broad hand against my sternum, easing me backward. I brace my elbows on the piano for support, and a discordant sound rumbles through the studio when I mash the keys.

“I’ll hurt your piano,” I protest breathlessly.

His eyes pin me more thoroughly than his steady hand on my chest. “If it gets damaged, I’ll buy a new one. I’m going to take my time with you. You’re going to come all over my face and beg for my cock in your cunt before I’m finished with you.”

A rush of desire wets my exposed pussy, and his nostrils flare as though he’s a predator that’s caught my scent.

My brow furrows when he picks up my pointe shoes, but he doesn’t put them back on my feet. Instead, he uses the satin ribbons to lash my ankles to the legs of the stool, keeping me wide open and exposed. At his mercy.

“Brandon…”

I’m not sure if his name is a shaky protest or a plea for more. My entire body is alive for him, my nerve endings crackling and dancing with unspent lust.

“Stay,” he commands. “I want to admire you just like this.”

I relax back against the piano, and a few stray notes clang beneath my elbows.

But I’m beyond caring. My entire focus is fixed on Brandon, and he’s staring at me like I’m the only thing that matters in the world.

He strokes my inner thighs, swirling in the slick sign of my desire for him in a little teasing circular pattern that drives me wild.

I try to lift my hips, seeking more stimulation, but the bindings around my ankles keep me helplessly spread for his thorough examination.

His thumbs trace the line of my labia, and the gentle touch makes my head drop back on a low groan.

A light hit of pain flares on my thigh. He bit me in reprimand.

“Eyes on me.”

My gaze snaps to his, and I fall into the clear blue pools of his familiar eyes. His attention returns to my pussy as he parts my swollen folds. His face is so close to my cunt that I feel each ragged breath on my heated flesh.

Two fingers slide into my tight sheath, penetrating me slowly.