25. Jolie
25
JOLIE
I t’s been ten days since I saw Jax.
At first I’d hoped it was a fluke, but by day three, when ice dripped into pools on the ground, I was certain he had been called back to his wintry home. Was he being punished right now? He said it was worth it, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty, especially since I never managed to catch a full glimpse of him.
Some days I wonder if I made it all up, but the dull ache in my chest is much too real.
I miss him.
I’ve been throwing myself into rehearsals, even more so than usual the last few days. My body itches to move . It’s as if sitting still is the worst thing in the world.
I haven’t gotten up the courage to join in for ice bath bonding with Evelyn and the other girls. Each time the pale shards float atop the water, it takes me back to the day of the accident. I still go to the recovery room to spend time with them, though, and I’m finally starting to feel like I’m finding my place at Ballet Potomac.
Once Evelyn, Veronique, and Sara are done with their ice baths and toweled off, I say my goodbyes and head to physical therapy. The pain from my injury is inescapable, my hip joint still a weak spot, but since I’ve started going to sessions, it’s been more manageable on the longer days.
We go over a handful of exercises, and Heather shows me a few she wants me to do at home and between classes. At first, I was going to my sessions purely to appease Mistress Maral. Now I look forward to finding ways to work with my body instead of pushing against it.
Blake was bold enough to text me about our “misunderstanding.” A full week after the fact. According to Lark, he and Nina have announced their relationship to the higher-ups at the Institute now that they’ve been together a few years. Years ! I’d care if I didn’t feel like I’d already wasted enough energy on him. Now his number is blocked and Lark’s overjoyed at not having to see him outside company hours.
As I grab my bags and head out to leave, I pass by one of the small, empty studios used for the pre-professional students. A few times since Jax’s disappearance, I’ve taken to dancing for an hour by myself, rehearsing different variations I learned at the Institute. I don’t get to flourish my movements when I perform with the ensemble in the corps, so coming here a few times a week allows me to express the freedom I once had under the spotlight.
It’s a sensation I hope to reclaim one day. Physical therapy may be helping, but I know my hip injury is permanent. There’s no dancing without dealing with it, even if it’s less of a burden now than it was when I’d been too stubborn to allow myself help.
Connecting my phone to the Bluetooth speaker, I throw on the Black Swan variation and begin to dance. I crave the breeze rushing against me as I leap and jump, kick and move. Warmth spreads feverishly through my limbs. After three times back to back, I can’t shake the desire to dance again . I’m thirsty and hot, so I quickly grab my bottle, then step onto my towel and pour the water on my head.
What the heck am I doing?
After going through the combination a few more times, I crave the weariness that comes from a long day of rehearsals, but my body is having none of that. It’s invigorated, wanting more, even as sweat beads along my chest. My limbs tingle and heat curls low in my belly. I pull at my damp leotard, moving it quickly to fan myself. For the first time since the accident, the idea of an ice bath actually seems appealing. So appealing that I nearly turn and sprint for the recovery room.
Holy cannoli. It’s solstice.
Jax warned me. And now I know that solstice does, in fact, still affect me even though I’m mortal. I pace, clawing at my arms, wanting to claw off my clothes instead. Frantic need coils inside me, and I shove my hand down my leotard, palm grazing the silvery marking etched between my breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, rubbing my thighs together while I think of Jax, wondering if he’s as uncomfortable as I am right now.
He better freaking be.
Of course, that thought dominoes into the idea of him stroking himself. Handling things . I have no clue what that even looks like for him, but I whimper, stuck between wanting to control these impulses and give into them.
“I’m here, Tempest.” Jax’s whisper caresses my ear, reverberating beneath my belly.
A voice that’s not in my head.
The breeze of his words curls over my shoulder, and I take two deep breaths and open my eyes. My icy-blue stare reflects back at me in the mirror. Frosted breath wraps around my cheek, puffed out from a pale-blue mouth that’s framed by a chiseled jaw. Severe cheekbones glide up toward his eyes, twin panes of shattered glass that sparkle at me.
“Jax,” I rasp, savoring the weight of him behind me, even though he’s not touching me. But hasn’t that been his way? I’ve felt him for weeks now. My very own gravity. “Y-you’re really here.”
“I am.” His breath sends a shiver skating across my shoulder blades. I don’t want to pull away from it, though. No, if anything, I want to lean into its chill, feel its bite against my skin. He hesitates a moment, eyes flashing up to meet mine in the mirror. “I’ve missed you so much, Tempest.”
“I’ve missed you too.” The words are a half-choked sob.
There’s nothing imaginary about the way my pulse flutters beneath his icy stare. There’s nothing imaginary about how his mere presence comforts me every time we’re together.
“How did you get back here?”
“I may have bartered with a very understanding spring harbinger who’s assigned to the East Coast,” Jax says with a smirk. “I don’t know how much time I’ll have before they find out what I’ve done. I just had to see you. Solstice is hell without you. The idea of you being here, going through it alone…” He growled. “I don’t want to waste this moment. Not when you can finally see me. Not when I can do this.”
His hand skates up my throat, instantly sating the fire burning through my body. I feel each brush of the pads of his finger, pale blue and covered with small, feathered lines. It’s like winter’s claimed every inch of him.
Turning my face toward him, he lowers his lips to mine, kissing me so softly that it breezes over my mouth. I deepen it, exploring his tongue with my own, inhaling the rich, wintry pine that comes with the nearness of him. Each sweep of his tongue is decadent and refreshing. My body bows with his, like a willow on the breeze, pinned in place and blowing away all at once.
Pausing the kiss, he runs his nose over my cheek, grazing me with so much gentleness I feel more porcelain doll than woman.
“Is this how solstice always is?” I tingle, desperate for more as I zip my legs together. I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want this to be a dream. The way he treats me like there’s no one else in the world he belongs to… I want to sink my teeth into it, consume and keep that feeling with me forever.
I want real, fierce passion. I want him .
“Yes.” His eyes drop to the floor, tone thick and gravelly. “Though hopefully, one day, we won’t be racing time.”
Just like that? He’s real and now he’s gone? “You’re going to have to leave?”
“I will. Temporarily. But I’ll always come back to you, Tempest.” He gives me a mischievous grin that lightens the air between us. Then he removes his jacket and shirt, and they disappear into nothing when he drops them to the floor. My pulse ricochets when he wraps his hand around my own, sliding them up his chest to between his pecs, settling them atop the identical silver swirls there. Only, he doesn’t just have the one mark. There are hundreds of markings everywhere, spanning his chest, abs, arms. I move my hand, and he releases his hold, turning me so I can explore the panes of his body.
Each etched feather of frost creates a beautiful, delicately raised texture beneath my fingertips. He sucks in a breath when I trace along his stomach, the bulge in his dark-navy pants growing larger.
The need for him, for this, is too great. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I don’t understand everything. But right now, I don’t really care.
In dance, intention and perfecting the technique will only get you so far. At the end of the day, they are just the foundation for your instincts to take over. That instinct carries your body through the music. It’s your signature. The wow factor that captivates the audience. And right now, I let my instinct carry me through this. “I want to see you… All of you.”
The ball of Jax’s Adam’s apple rolls, and he nods, though he doesn’t move, waiting for me to take the lead. I skate over the waistband of his pants before slipping my fingers under it and pulling them down. My breath falters. His cock is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
I swallow hard, both from anticipation and a lot of intimidation.
It’s covered in the same adornment as his upper body, the patterns wrapping around his thick length in beautiful invitation. What would those ridges feel like in my palm? Against my lips? I want to lower to my knees, take him in my mouth, and trace along each curved line with my tongue. And there, glinting at the center of its crown, is a silver ball with a snowflake stamped into the metal.
“You okay, Tempest?” Jax asks hesitantly.
I stumble over what to say, unable to look away. It’s probably impolite to stare, but I can’t help it. That piercing is staring back at me.
He frowns, then clears his throat, voice a bit deeper. “I’m not a mere mortal man.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” I agree, gesturing at his very unique erection. As if his flesh the shade of thick ice floating across a frozen lake, his markings, or his ability to shift into a wolf aren’t already indicators of that.
I reach for it but he gently encircles my wrist before entwining my hand in his.
“Not tonight. There’s not enough time and there are more pressing matters.”
Are there? Because I’d really love to feel that pressing into me. Deeply.
I whimper with need, my thighs becoming slick.
What the hell? Did that sound just come from me?
His nostrils flare, pupils dilating until they nearly eclipse the prismatic irises holding me very willingly under whatever spell he’s cast.
I’m spun to face the mirror, and Jax guides my hand up the glass. Touching the mirror is something we’re taught never to do from a very young age. Nothing to mar being able to see every inch of our bodies as we move through the room. It feels both indulgent and indecent seeing my print stain its pristine surface. His textured palm skims up my arms, brushing over the scars at my shoulder before wrapping around my throat. His thumb directs my chin forward.
“Eyes on us, Tempest,” he whispers. “Don’t you dare close them.”
I have no desire to blink now or ever again, for that matter. What if he’s swept away and I’m left to wonder, once more, if he’s all in my head?
Fingers skate along the top of my throat again, and Jax’s whisper sends a shiver that has my toes curling against the burlap box of my pointe shoes. “You will watch everything I do to you. Understand?”
I nod wildly, gaze following his fingers down my neck. They loop around the strap of my leotard, dragging it over my shoulder. One, then the other. He presses a cool kiss to my shoulder blade, and my breath hitches, nipples pebbling against the periwinkle Lycra. The straps of my leotard hang, untouched, as he oh so gently pulls out each bobby pin in my bun. With each tug, stinging relief spreads from my scalp across the rest of my head. His brows knit in concentration until he’s removed them all, taking my hairnet and mesh and tossing them on the ground.
“You’re so beautiful, Jolie.” My name on his lips is as worshipful as prayer. Sacred.
He kneels, taking his time to untie the ribbons of my shoes before slipping them off me and setting them aside. He does it so reverently, looking like he’s worried he’ll break me. Then his fingers skim up my tights, my body shivering beneath them.
This is real.
He’s real.
Despite the fact that we’ve been communicating for weeks, seeing him brings a new level of understanding. It’s Jax. He’s whole, here, and he wants me.
Then he slowly peels my leotard down, along with my tights that are damp and clinging to me. I step out of them, and he brings them to his face and inhales deeply. “Fate be damned, Tempest, it’s going to take everything for me not to come when I touch you.”
“Touch me. Please.” It’s a whimper. A plea. This man is risking everything being here, and I don’t want to miss a single moment of what he’s offering.
One hand curves with my hip, the other glides up to my silver scar, my mate mark . He draws delicate circles over it, and every stroke feels as if he’s doing the motion somewhere lower and much more sensitive. My legs rub against each other, desperate for friction.
The hand not drawing devotions upon my sternum taps my leg. “Wide second, Tempest.”
“How do you know that term?” I ask, but like a well-trained prima ballerina, I do as I’m instructed and open my stance.
“Good girl.” The praise hits me below my belly, and I wiggle at the kiss of cold air between my thighs. That is, until his fingers dip lower, spreading me apart. “I have been watching you for months. Maybe I picked up on a few things.”
It really should creep me out that he’s been watching me all this time. But the loneliness that’s burrowed deep in my bones only feels comforted. Like he’s been there, some unseen guardian angel wholly devoted to me.
I rest my head against him, giving into the pleasure.
“Eyes on the mirror,” he tuts, and I cut my glance back up to the two of us, watching his fingers disappear into me. “So wet for me, Tempest. So fucking perfect.”
His cock presses against my back, and I can’t help but arch into it, the icy ball of his piercing grazing me. What would it feel like inside?
“I want you.” When one of my hands leaves the mirror to reach for him, he gently but firmly guides it back to the pane with a kiss to the scars on my shoulder.
“I want you more.” His eyes shimmer, darkened pupils staring at me from behind my wild waves that billow around my shoulders. He nestles into the storm of strands, words sliding down my body as his fingers slip in and out of me. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, but I’ll need days , not minutes, when I fully claim you.”
Claim.
The word surges through my veins. I want him to claim me. Mark me in frosty promises and pleasure. Etch himself so deep beneath my skin that neither of us can exist without the imprint of the other.
Logically, it makes no damn sense.
My eyes remain locked on our reflection. In ballet, every part of our body is a carefully calculated equation of lines and curves that present a perfected picture. Every limb may look graceful and delicate, but each is held with immense tension and care. It’s the beautiful illusion of effortless poise. Even when I was with Blake, there was always a part of me holding my core, wondering how I looked and if I fit the picture of what he wanted.
But I can’t summon the urge to care with Jax. Not when his hand that’s circling between my ribs sweeps over my nipple, each ridge of his skin making me shudder. The fact that all he’s focused on is me makes me want him all the more.
I wish we had those days .
My body is keening, writhing. An uncontrolled tangle that’s desperate to be undone. When my eyes begin to flutter, he takes his hand from my breast and slides it to my throat. “You’re close, aren’t you, Tempest?”
“Yes,” I rasp. His eyes, sharp as glass, somehow soften when they scan over me. His cock jerks when his gaze slips to where his hand is between my thighs. Watching him watch us together has me moaning. “Don’t stop.”
My body trembles. Every part of me is coiled, leaning into his icy touch and begging for every twirl of his thumb around my clit, every plunge that curls into my center.
His fingers don’t relent, spurred on by my sounds that filter up in white puffs. Frost swirls across the mirror, surrounding us, but my body is in an inferno, desperate to be soothed by his cool touch.
He skates against the sensitive nerves, and my knees buckle.
I’ll surely break from the pleasure of this.
“Jax!” I cry out. I’m on the cusp of fracturing and floating away.
He holds me in place, supporting my body at its center. “Watch.”
I hold back the urge to let my eyes roll skyward, to throw my head up. Instead, I take in his dark stare, the desire skating through his gaze as he drinks us both in.
“That’s it. Ride my hand.” His palm swirls my silver scar and presses into it while the fingers of his other hand twirl gracefully inside of me. My hips rock and my back is wet with smears of precum. His voice is gravelly, just above a rasp. “Look how beautifully you shatter around my fingers, Tempest.”
It’s my undoing.
My lips part, cloudy breaths blowing toward the mirror, and I scream so loud I’m sure some sort of studio alarm will sound. I’m unleashed, pleasure exploding from me in every possible direction. My knees crumble as I drink in the sight of Jax. His neck strains before he turns my chin to capture my mouth in a deep, unrelenting kiss. My pelvis continues to jerk wildly, riding out my orgasm.
Oh my god.
My eyes widen and surprise bolts through me. I’ve never been able to come with someone else. Thought it wasn’t in the cards for me. I chuckle to myself, trying to catch my breath. How wrong I was.
The ecstasy of this, of him, will be the death of me.
As I come down from my ascent, Jax slips out of me, lowering us to sit on the floor. He tucks me into him, and I nuzzle against the panes of his chest. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he licks them clean. Maybe he can ignore the giant, glinting hard-on between us, but I can’t. It’s coated with glittering precum, and I lick my lips, craving to know how he tastes.
Before I can find out, he chuckles, crooking my chin and lowering his mouth to mine. Each kiss is long and lingering. “You have no clue how much my body begs for you. But I can’t stay.”
“When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know.” His voice is thick as he swallows down that truth. Like he hates it as much as I do.
“Will I have to wait until next winter?” My heart sinks, a heavy stone landing in my gut that has me nauseous.
“I will find a way, Tempest. One day, we will have the rest of time.”
“One day.” It feels like a brittle promise, but it’s all I’ve got, so I cling to it.
“Kiss me until I have to leave?” he asks. Considering he just gave me the best orgasm of my existence, his tone is wildly unsure.
“Of course.”
He strokes my cheek, then kisses, commanding my mouth. I nip his bottom lip, and he groans. I love drawing that sound from him. His cock rests between our stomachs, the deep-purple tip eager for release. I desperately want to feel its texture against my palm, but instead, I just savor how much he wants me; wants us.
Seconds or minutes later, he finally pulls his lips away, swollen from our kisses and this stolen time. The weight of his body recedes, skin becoming more translucent with each passing second. “It’s time, Tempest.”
“No.” My lip quivers but I fight the tears. Fear begins to close in, ready to choke me. “Can’t you hold it off a little longer?”
“I can’t,” he says ruefully. “But I’ll find a way to you in any season, Tempest.”
It’s the last thing he says before he disappears, leaving me naked and in a post-orgasm haze. When I glance at the previously frosted mirror, the final flecks of white slowly vanish. Like it never existed.
And once again, I’m alone.