Chapter 17
brOOKLYN
Over the last few weeks, I’ve run the gamut of different emotions as the rehearsal day draws to close, knowing what comes next.
Namely, Kir, and our private lessons.
Nervousness. Apprehension. Fear. Giddiness.
Excitement. The urge to rise to his challenges, and the equally strong urge to dump something foul over his head to evoke some kind of emotion other than his strict, at times overbearing authoritarianism.
Something to mess up his perfect, gorgeous exterior.
Other times, yes, it’s been a mashup of schoolgirl crush and outright desire.
I mean the man is fucking beautiful , with a sinful body and eyes that turn me into a puddle.
But the sensation simmering inside me today as our meeting time approaches is new. It churns inside me like burning fuel, filled with hungry, yearning need.
And it's all down to the fact that last night, things went to a new level, when he bent me over his knees, pulled my shorts down, and spanked me .
Touched me, and rammed his thick fingers into me, making me feel something I’ve never felt before.
I mean that quite literally.
I'm pretty sure I’ve come before. Sort of.
But only with myself, and only in a way that feels like the “big O” that everyone raves about has been way overhyped.
I mean it feels good , I guess, when I rub my clit or grind a pillow between my legs.
It’s like a sneeze, but more. It makes me smile after for about five seconds before it just sort of… goes away.
That cannot be what everyone always gushes about like it’s the most amazing thing on Earth. But there’s never been anything I could do about it. What I feel with my fingers or a pillow is as much as I can coax out of myself.
This has, unsurprisingly, led to not much in the way of experiences with other people. I'm sure the various traumas I endured in the foster system didn’t exactly help, but the fact that I’ve never had “that” kind of mind-blowing orgasm has prevented me from really trying with anyone else.
And then all that changed last night, when Kir put me over his knee, spanked me, and tore something out of me unlike anything I’ve experienced before.
An orgasm.
A real, actual, “holy-what-the- fuck ” orgasm.
I’ve been fucking buzzing ever since.
I tried to recreate the feeling when I got back to Pearl last night.
It’s not like the back seat of an Accord parked on a random side street in Little Italy is the ideal setting for some self-love.
But I was still feeling the aftershocks of his fingers in me, and I needed more of the delicious sensation.
I couldn’t quite get there, but it was better than most other times I’ve tried.
Val even called me out on my elevated mood today, which terrified me because he’s a fucking bloodhound when it comes to anything sexual. Mercifully, I managed to dodge his questions until Madame Kuzmina’s grueling rehearsal started.
But now that’s over, and I find myself showering before meeting with Kir, and that same sensation spreads through me like a drug. My body tingles under the shower spray, every drop of water and drip of soap like his touch, teasing over my skin.
I run my hands over my body, feeling a warm ache when I cup my breasts and roll my soapy fingers over my tight nipples. I push a hand lower, teasing my fingertips over my stomach, glancing out into the changing room to make sure I’m alone before I push lower.
I groan quietly, my breath catching when my fingers push through my pussy lips and roll across my clit. Heat pools inside me, but it’s frustrating, because while I can feel the initial stirrings of the sensation he gave me, it won’t get any stronger no matter how hard I try.
Eventually, I step out of the shower and towel off, feeling annoyed.
No shame: I straight up preen in the mirror, fixing my hair, adding a touch of makeup, making sure my legs are completely smooth from my quick shave in the shower.
At my locker, I chew on my lip as I pull out the bag he gifted me. I’ve pretty much been hiding it in here because what the hell would I tell my friends?
Tonight, though, I wear some of the things that came in the bag. I grin as I pull on one of the obscenely expensive Nikolay Grishko warmup sets and some equally pricey Luckyloo legwarmers for no other reason than they look cute.
An anxious, eager sensation pools inside me as I check my reflection, bite back a grin, and practically skip out of the dressing room.
I'm no love-struck teenager. I know whatever this thing is between us isn’t the beginning of anything real. C’mon. The man is twenty years older than me, the head of one of the biggest criminal organizations in the world, and hot enough that there’s no way he’s looking for anything more than fun.
But if that’s all he’s looking for, why can’t it be all that I’m looking for too?
I mean, the man gave me my first real, actual, mind-blowing orgasm last night. And I quite enjoyed it. I would like it to happen again, frequently. If “this” ends up being just hormones, mutual attraction, and orgasms?
Sign me the fuck up .
It’s not like I’ve gone and fallen for the man.
Kir usually shows up after I arrive. So when I get to the studio, I go to the barre and start stretching out some of the ubiquitous knots from earlier today.
…Until the air in the room shifts, and my pulse skips.
He doesn’t even have to say anything to announce his presence. You can literally just feel the power that radiates off him.
I turn, trying my best to hide the huge grin on my face. I don’t succeed, and end up giving him this weird, awkward half-grin that makes me cringe even as I can’t stop doing it.
Slowly, my brows knit.
Kir’s not in his usual-these-days gym pants and sinfully tight t-shirt. He’s back in a suit, no tie, the top few buttons of his dress shirt open.
He also looks even colder than usual, if that's possible.
“So,” I begin, trying to hide the grin on my face and the annoying sparkly look in my eyes. “I was thinking we could pick up where we left off yesterday?—”
Instantly I realize what I’ve just said, and my face explodes with heat.
“Not…I…I mean…” I stammer, feeling my cheeks blushing furiously before I find my voice again. “I meant with the variation,” I say quickly. ”Not…you know…the other thing.”
Kir says nothing. He just stands in the doorway, eying me.
“So…” I clear my throat. “I think if I start from the bourrées , I can?—”
“I’m afraid our coaching sessions have reached an end, Ms. Ellis.”
I feel like I’ve been physically kicked in the stomach when the words leave his mouth. For five long seconds, I just stand there, all the giddiness of earlier shattering at my feet as I just stare at him.
“I…” I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“I can no longer assist you with private coaching,” he growls tightly. “But I wish you the best of luck with your callback with the Ballet Imperiya Korona .”
I stare at him numbly.
“Good night, Ms. Ellis.”
He starts to turn to leave, and something in me comes unfrozen.
“Wait, that’s it ?”
Kir stops, his jaw tightening as his dark eyes slide back to me. “Yes. That’s it.”
The numb feeling begins to morph into bitterness, confusion, and, yes, anger. When he turns again to leave, the words tumble unbidden from my mouth.
“Is this because of what happened last night?”
Kir stops again, his chiseled jaw grinding as his eyes flash.
“It’s not.”
“ Bullshit !” I blurt as he turns again. “That’s fucking bullshit !”
That gets his attention. He whirls back to me, his mouth opening.
“No,” I snap, cutting him off before he can even speak. “You don’t get to chastise me with the language, Ms. Ellis shit anymore,” I hiss. “Are we seriously done with all of this just because?—”
“ Yes ,” he growls, taking a step toward me that sends my pulse skyrocketing. “Because of last night.”
“Well, that’s bullshit ,” I snarl.
Kir’s brow furrows. “What happened last night was deeply inappropriate.”
I scoff. “Says the man who bent me over his knee and spanked me ?—”
“That’s enough, Ms. Ellis?—”
“Before he put his fingers inside me and made me fucking come for the first time!” I finish.
The room goes quiet. Kir frowns, peering at me with dark curiosity that has my skin tingling and my face heating.
“Not…I mean…” My throat works. “I mean, the first time you made me come.”
“I’m not casting blame on either of us. You’re a grownup.”
“You’re much more grown up,” I snap back petulantly.
His mouth twists. “I’ve decided, Brooklyn. This is wrong.” He straightens up, rolling his shoulders as his eyes stab into me. “Good luck with your callback.”
He turns to leave, and I snap.
“How about you stop being a big fucking pussy and tell me the real reason you don’t want to be around me anymore. Not whatever bullshit fake?—”
I gasp sharply, my eyes going wide as Kir whirls and surges into me. The whimper withers and dies in my throat as he wraps a hand around it, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he looms over me, getting right in my face.
“ Fine ,” he snarls. “How about this for a reason: you don’t know me at all . You know the nice me, who’s been playing ballet instructor with you. Who stopped a bunch of lowlifes from assaulting you. Who bought you decent clothes, and checked in on you, and was concerned about your situation.”
His face grows even more menacing and dark, his eyes flashing like black fire as he narrows the distance between us.
“But the thing is, Ms. Ellis ,” he snarls, “ that isn’t the real me . Believe me, you want nothing to do with him.”
His hand squeezes my windpipe, sending warning lights and vicious heat shooting through my core.
“The real me would eat you alive .”
Suddenly, just as quickly as it was there, his hand drops from my throat. He steps away from me, taking with him the heat of his body, the timbre of his deep, sultry-accented voice, and his citrusy pine scent.
“This ends now ,” he growls. “Before I destroy you.”
Without another word, he turns and marches from the room.
I stand there numb and shaking, trying to tell myself he’s right. That I can take what he’s taught me so far and work on it to nail that callback.
All this was ever going to be, all it needed to be, was a bit of fun. All I wanted was mutual attraction and orgasms. No emotions. No feelings.
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat as the silence of the studio presses down around me.
…So why the fuck does it sting so much?