Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Savina
DARBY AND I have been settling into our new place remarkably well.
I didn’t realize how much I had been craving independence until I didn’t have to ask permission to go shopping or make a coffee run.
I can come and go as I please, something I never experienced before, and the feeling is incredible; better than I could have ever imagined.
Even if this will all be short-lived, at least I can say I got to experience some freedom for a little while in my life.
When I’m eventually locked up in a loveless marriage with Pavel, at least I’ll have these memories to look back on.
Memories that might just keep me sane during trying times.
It's Friday night, and I’m walking to the ballet studio, which is only a few blocks from our apartment.
I signed up for private lessons with Miss DuPont months ago.
I figured it would be a way to escape. I always loved dancing and ballet when I was a child, and I thought it would be the perfect distraction from my life and Dimitri.
Dimitri Sokolov has become the bane of my existence.
God, it’s like I can’t get him out of my mind.
Even when he’s not around, it feels like he’s always watching me.
I keep running into him in the most obscure places, and I have to wonder if his father didn’t task him with following me or something.
If that’s the case, then I’m going to be upset.
Pavel gave me permission to move out of my father’s place, but maybe he doesn’t trust me enough.
That is a possibility that has crossed my mind.
The city is gray and washed out after a steady rain as I walk.
I see the building, which houses the dance studio, in view, so I quicken my steps.
It always feels like someone’s following me, and I turn around and check my surroundings quickly before darting inside the door.
My heart is beating out of my chest even though I hadn’t seen anything suspicious outside.
I can’t describe it. It’s just a feeling I get, and I swear I’ve been feeling like this most of my life.
Maybe I’m just paranoid.
I walk through a set of double doors, and they creak loudly on their hinges.
It’s after hours, so the studio is calm, quiet.
It’s perfect. Inside, the mirrors stretch on endlessly, mimicking my every move as I walk past them.
I peel off my jacket, step up to the bar and stare at my reflection.
My long hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, and I’m wearing a tight black shirt with black leggings under a short, ruffled skirt and ballet slippers.
I’m early, so I decide to stretch and practice before my teacher gets here.
My eyes catch the glint of awards plastered to the wall.
Miss DuPont has won several from the French ballet studio she used to teach at before she moved to the U.S.
Once upon a time, she was the principal dancer with the Paris Opera Ballet, so she’s used to self-discipline at a level I’ll probably never experience in my lifetime.
Miss DuPont is very poised, very strict, but I like it in a way. She keeps me focused.
I’m doing some normal stretches when suddenly soft classical music fills the room through the small speakers embedded in the ceiling. Oh, she must be earlier than usual tonight, I think to myself, as I go to the bar and get in first position, awaiting instruction.
But instead of the dainty footsteps that usually accompany the music, I hear the heavy footfalls of boots on the hardwood floor. My eyes dart up to the mirror, and I see Dimitri strolling into the room from behind me.
Irate, I turn and glare at him. “What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?” I ask angrily.
He smirks and clicks his tongue. “Hello to you too, Savina.”
I roll my eyes at him. “My teacher will be here any minute, Dimitri.”
“Then we better hurry,” he tells me cryptically.
So, I guess I wasn’t being paranoid before.
I was being followed, and that angers me even further.
What was the point of letting me move into my own apartment if the Sokolovs were just going to keep tabs on me all the time?
Did they just want to pretend to give me some freedom to see what I would do?
Is Dimitri spying on me and reporting everything back to his father?
Question after question swirls inside my head as Dimitri moves closer to me. The soft scent of tobacco wafts over me as he stands inches away. “Did your father send you?” I ask, my voice quiet and wounded.
“No,” he answers, surprising me.
“Then why are you here?” I press.
“To watch you dance,” he whispers against my ear. “Now, get up on your toes, Savina. I want to see you,” he mutters.
The sexual tension grows to immeasurable amounts in the room, and I find myself having trouble breathing.
I don’t know if I fully believe him when he says his father didn’t send him here, because why else would he follow me around?
Unless he’s testing me, seeing how far he can bend me before I break.
Well, I’ve got news for him. The answer is never. I will never break for him.
Keeping a steady gaze on Dimitri, I step closer to the bar. With one hand lax on it, I slowly raise up. I only have my slippers on, not my actual pointe shoes, so I can’t go completely on the tip of my toes. But I go as far as I can go without experiencing too much pain.
“Now, lean over the bar,” he tells me.
My eyes narrow on him as my fingers tighten around the bar in front of me. I want to tell him no. I want to tell him to leave me alone. But I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I lean over the bar, wanting to see just how far he’s willing to take this. Maybe a part of me wants to break him.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises me.
My heart skips a beat inside my chest. God, why does that turn me on so much?
It definitely should not. And I shouldn’t be doing everything he’s telling me to do right now.
I’m just about to turn around and tell him to go to hell, but he slides up behind me, caging me in.
I’m barely breathing when I feel him reach under my skirt.
His hands are quick and methodical as they roll down my leggings, exposing my thong.
He takes a step back, only to press up against me a moment later. His mouth is at my ear when he murmurs, “Fuck, you look so sexy like this.” The fingers of his right hand trail up between my thighs. “You better be glad your teacher is a woman. If it was a man, he would be losing his eyes.”
I stiffen at his words. I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not right now. But all of those thoughts go right out the window when his fingers reach the apex of my thighs.
“You’re wet for me, privighetoare mic?,” he whispers in awe against the shell of my ear.
Pure and undiluted mortification burns my cheeks. “Dimitri,” I start, but he doesn’t let me finish.
“Say that again in a few minutes when you’re coming on my tongue,” he says before dropping down behind me.
My hands grip the bar in a white-knuckle grip. My eyes dart around the studio, looking for any signs of life…or spectators. Oh god, we’re in a public venue. Anyone could walk in at any point, including my teacher. I need to stop this. I need to tell him no. I need…
But the moment I feel him move my thong to the side and his tongue sweep the length of my slit, all rational thoughts leave my brain, and I release a small groan.
“Mmm,” Dimitri murmurs in satisfaction before diving back between my thighs. He’s eating me from behind like a starving man, not leaving any part of me untouched. He focuses on my clit at first before licking his way up to my tight, puckered hole and then back down.
The sensations are almost too much, and now I’m gripping onto the bar like it’s my lifeline, hoping I don’t collapse as I accept the pleasure he’s giving me.
In one last ditch effort to get him to stop, I protest weakly, “My teacher, Miss Dupont, will be here soon.”
“I don’t give a fuck, Savina,” he growls against my skin. “Not even a hundred rabid wolves could drag me away from you right now.”
Dimitri’s tongue flicks over my clit in torturous, slow circles.
His mouth is sinful, creating pleasure that should be considered illegal in all fifty states.
I never knew something could ever feel so good in my life.
My legs and thighs begin to quake with my impending orgasm, and I almost feel scared to go over the edge.
“Come on my tongue, Savina,” Dimitri growls against my wet flesh, and his words are my undoing.
What starts out as a small spark slowly turns into a raging inferno inside of me, spreading like wildfire through every nerve ending in my body.
I desperately clutch the bar, clinging for dear life as I experience a mind-blowing release.
A foreign cry tears from my throat as I convulse against his mouth and fingers.
“Dimitri!” I cry out, my voice echoing off the walls of the studio.
I can hear him murmuring in his native language, perhaps praising me. I’m not even sure at this point.
I feel so high, like my head is up in the clouds.
And then I hear someone clear their throat, and it suddenly feels like I’ve been doused in a bucket of ice-cold water.
I practically jump away from Dimitri, desperately trying to right my tights and skirt as my eyes frantically search the room to find the source of the sound.
My teacher, Miss DuPont, slowly strolls into the room with a stern look on her face. I didn’t think her face could get any harsher. And if looks could kill, Dimitri and I would be dead right on the spot.
My mind races with questions. How long has she been standing there? How much did she see? She clearly saw me coming for my future brother-in-law, whom she met at my engagement party. Oh god, what if she tells my father?
I can feel a hot blush spreading across my chest and cheeks, my heart pounding inside my chest as I think about the consequences of my actions.
What was I even thinking, letting him do that to me in a public place?
At the time, it felt so…wrong and exciting.
But now, it feels so foolish and embarrassing.
“I’m s-s-sorry, Miss DuPont,” I speak up, breaking the tension and silence.
She holds her hand up, stopping me. “Mr. Sokolov, if you would please leave, I have a lesson to start with Miss Cipriano.”
My eyes dart to Dimitri, his mouth still wet with my slickness.
And I watch in horror as his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
Then, he steps closer to my teacher and says in a low voice, “Not a word about this to her father or I’ll make sure you’ll never dance again in your life.
” Shooting me a glance, he then walks out, his threat lingering in the air well after he leaves the room.
She looks taken aback by Dimitri’s threat but quickly schools her features and turns her attention to me.
“Miss DuPont,” I start, but she doesn’t let me finish.
“First position, Savina,” she says sternly.
My brain slowly rewires itself, and I get into first position and then the next few positions when she demands.
Miss DuPont makes me dance for hours that night until my toes are numb and my feet are bleeding. And then I walk the whole way home in shame and excruciating pain. But I know that I deserve it. I deserve this punishment and so much more.
Instead of breaking down, however, I use the pain to fuel my decision to not let Dimitri touch me again. What we’re doing is wrong. Plain and simple. I am going to be marrying his brother. We can’t keep playing these games; because I know, in the end, it will only be me who gets hurt.