21
Sebastiano
It”s dinner time, but Mia is nowhere to be found. Marie insists I check the gym, muttering about Mia”s excessive workouts. She”s relentless and constantly pushes herself beyond limits. I get it. Staying fit is essential, but this seems excessive, even for her.
The thud of my footsteps echoes through the corridor as I make my way toward the home gym. Working out is the only routine I follow. But today, when I approach the gym, something feels different – a subtle shift in the atmosphere that I can”t quite put my finger on.
Pushing open the door, I”m met with the familiar sight of exercise equipment and weights. But something”s off. Why has all the equipment been moved to one side? The faint strains of ”Push” by Matchbox Twenty drift through the room, drawing me in. Curiosity piqued, I follow the music, leading me to the ballet barre, that sure in the fuck wasn”t there yesterday.
And there, in the soft glow of the overhead lights, I catch a glimpse of Mia – la piccola ballerina – dancing gracefully at the barre.
Her hair”s pulled back tight, a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Every move she makes is smooth and precise. I can”t help but picture her bent over that barre; her body arched just right. Damn, she”s tempting.
I glance at the ballet barre again. Was this her doing? I would”ve preferred a stripper pole, but as I watch her, I can”t deny she’s good.
I”ve never been one to appreciate any dance that didn”t involve a pole and tits in my face, but watching her move, it”s like I”m under some damn spell. It”s not just her physical beauty that”s got me hooked; it”s the raw emotion she pours into her dancing. I try to push it aside and focus on anything other than the way she moves and the way her body curves and sways with each step. But it”s like fighting a losing battle as if my body has a mind of its own—my dick is rock hard watching her move. I don”t even like Mia – at least, not in the way a husband should love his wife.
For a moment, I”m stuck in my tracks, unable to look away. It”s the first time I”ve seen Mia dance, and she”s got this elegant vibe going on that”s hard to ignore. But then, like she”s got some sixth sense, Mia turns toward me, eyes wide in surprise as she realizes she”s not alone. A flush of embarrassment tints her cheeks, and her moves stumble for the first time since I walked in.
”I-I”m sorry, Sebastiano,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. ”I didn”t realize you were here.”
I shake my head, still unable to look away. ”No need to apologize,” I mutter, my voice low.
But Mia shakes her head, a faint smile flickering at the corners of her lips. ”I just... I didn”t expect anyone to be here.”
”Don”t stop on my account. Keep going,” I growl, my voice heavy with desire. Mia”s cheeks flush deeper, and a sly smirk curves my lips.
With hesitant steps, Mia approaches me, her eyes searching mine for something I can”t quite decipher.
”Thank you, Sebastiano,” she murmurs, her voice soft. ”For having this installed just for me.”
I nod, unsure of what to say because I sure as fuck didn”t do this. I wouldn”t voluntarily move my stuff to one side for this to be here, but I”m not telling her that. Instead, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Her breath hitches as she feels my cock press against her stomach, but I don”t let go. Instead, I hold her tighter, letting her know what kind of reaction she has on me.
Just when I”m about to let her go, that’s when I realize this is Marie’s work, knowing exactly what she was doing when she had that ballet bar installed in the gym.
Well played, Marie.
Mia”s voice trembles as she pulls back, her cheeks turning a deep crimson shade. The red blush creeps down her neck, betraying her embarrassment. “Y-you’re, uh, thing,” she stammers, her words barely audible. “It’s poking me.”
I raise my eyebrows, suppressing a smirk. ”My thing? You mean my dick?” I ask, unable to hold back my amusement.
She nods, gently pulling out of my embrace. “Yeah, it does that,” I remark, glancing down at her. I notice her chest rising and falling with each breath. “But it looks like I have the same effect on you,” I add, reaching out to lightly pinch her hardened nipple. The thin fabric of her one-piece does little to hide them.
A small moan escapes her lips as she takes a step back, but I quickly close the distance, stepping forward. My neglected dick strains against the fabric of my pants, begging to come out. “So, are you going to dance for me?” I ask, pinching her other nipple firmly.
Another moan escapes her plush lips, and I curse inwardly. “Dance or take this onesie off and show me how wet you are,” I demand, my voice low and rough with desire.
“What?” she stumbles over her words. “I-I”m not anything.” But the blush coating her cheeks betrays her lie.
Mia retreats, stumbling as she tries to put distance between us. With each hesitant step she takes back, I close the gap. “Liar!” I accuse, my gaze fixed on her.
”I-I don”t lie,” Mia claims, her voice breaking with uncertainty. But I see right through her. Her trembling voice contradicts her words, and I can see through the facade. The flush creeping up her cheeks and the quickening of her breath gives away her arousal. She”s turned the fuck on, and she damn well knows it.
”Well, then, prove it,” I challenge, my tone dripping with taunt. ”You can dance for me, and I”ll add it to my spank bank for later, or...” I let the sentence hang, leaving the choice in her hands.
Mia”s breath catches in her throat as my finger lightly tugs at the fabric of her leotard, teasingly pulling it between her breasts. The sexual tension in the room crackles as her body responds so well to my touch, her arousal palpable. Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of desire and uncertainty swirling in their blues. ”Or what?” she breathes out, her voice barely audible, her gaze holding mine in a silent challenge.
My fingers slide down the valley between her breast, and my hand continues its journey lower until it grazes the top of her pussy. Mia”s breath hitches, her eyes flickering with excitement as she struggles to maintain her composure.
”Or,” I murmur, my voice low and seductive, ”we can find out just how much you”re lying.” My hand lingers at her pussy lips, a silent invitation for her to make her choice.
Mia”s breath hitches, a shiver running through her body as my hand inches closer to the bottom of her leotard. The anticipation hangs between us, each passing moment charged with tension. Just as my finger slips under the hem, barely grazing her smooth pussy, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. ”I”ll dance for you.”
”Aww,” I taunt, grinning devilishly. “And here I thought you were going to let me have a little taste.” My finger hovers tantalizingly close, just a whisper away from uncovering her sweet spot. But I decide to pull back, slipping my finger out of the hem and covering her lower half again, ensuring her lips remain concealed while she dances. With a smirk, I take a step back and lean against the wall, my gaze fixed on her, waiting for her to start.
She”s flustered as fuck, and it gives me a twisted satisfaction to see her shaky hands fumble with her phone, scrolling through the music until she selects a song to play.
The music starts, and it”s like la piccola ballerina transforms into someone else entirely. Letting the music take over, she loses herself in the dance.
As good as she moves, the lyrics of ”Slide” by the Goo Goo Dolls tug my mind elsewhere.
”Do you wanna get married or run away?”
The words hang in the air as she floats around the gym.
”Yeah, slide between the sheets into my room? Just slide into my room?”
The lyrics echo in my head, watching her twist and bend- all I can picture is sliding around with her in my bed.
She takes one final spin, her movements slowing as the song grinds to a halt. With each powerful twist, her body seems to linger in the air, suspended in a moment of effortless elegance that commands attention. As the music dies down, she comes to a halt, her breaths shallow, and her cheeks flushed. There”s a raw intensity in the way she stands there, even with a faint sheen of sweat.
I slap my hands together in a rhythm that echoes through the room. It”s not some polite, reserved applause; it”s loud, a bit too enthusiastic, like I”m at a damn Broadway show or something. Definitely not my smoothest moment, but damn, it just felt right.
Mia walks toward where I”m leaning against the wall. ”Well?” she prompts, her tone low and uncertain. ”Was it okay?” she asks like she knows she”s not great at dancing.
”Not a lot of things impress me, but that was pretty damn impressive,” I admit.
She looks up with a smile that reaches her eyes. ”Really?” Her eyes, bright and curious, lock with mine, silently asking for confirmation while walking up to the barre. She lifts her leg, leaning forward with her ass out, stretching from her dance. All blood rushes south, and my poor dick that just went down, springs back to life. I move behind her, placing my hands on each side of her hips. Mia”s gaze meets mine in the mirror.
“Yes, really,” I tell her, my right hand slowly leaving her hip and tracing the line of her lifted leg on the barre. Goosebumps raise on her toned muscles underneath my fingertips. She leans into my touch, her body responding instinctively to my presence behind her.
Mia lowers her right leg and lifts her left in the same position. My gaze shifts from hers to her body, reflected in the mirror. It”s then that I notice the subtle wetness between her legs, a clear sign of her arousal. A smirk tugs at my lips as I take in the sight, feeling desire stirring within me.
I take a step closer to her, letting her feel my hardness pressing against her. My head drops low to her ear, my breath skating across her skin. ”But you lied,” I tell her, my fingers tracing lightly over her exposed thighs. Damn, her skin is soft. Her body presses back into mine, and she lets out a soft moan. ”I didn”t lie,” she protests, but her voice is shaky.
”No?” I ask, my hands roaming over every inch of her skin. ”Then what”s this?” I inquire, my fingers brushing over the wetness between her legs.I feel the heat emanating from her soaked pussy.
Leaning forward, I press her firmly against the unforgiving wood, ensuring her needy pussy rubs against the hard surface.
The tension in her body is unmistakable––her muscles tense with desire and anticipation.
”You”re such a liar,” I growl, my voice heavy with desire and accusation. A soft moan escapes her lips, confirming what I already know––she wants this.
Each thrust against the wooden barre deepens the flush on her cheeks, her embarrassment evident. She averts her gaze from the mirror, unable to meet my eyes.
My warm breath caresses her ear as I whisper, ”Don”t be embarrassed with me. Show me how badly you want it. Show me how badly you need to come.”
Her cheeks flush even more, her eyes still avoiding mine in the mirror. But I refuse to let her hide from me.
Gripping her chin, I tilt her face to meet my gaze reflected in the mirror. Desire and frustration are swirling in those blues, almost like she’s silently begging me to let her come.
Her movements become more urgent, grinding against the barre in sync with my thrusts. Her desperation is evident. As her body trembles with anticipation, I sense her nearing the edge. With a swift motion, my hand slides between her thighs, pulling aside the fabric of her leotard to reveal her glistening pink pussy. A sensual moan escapes her plump lips, a raw expression of her intense craving for release.
I hold her thigh over the barre as she shamelessly continues rubbing herself against it, chasing the orgasm she desperately needs.
But just as she”s on the brink of ecstasy, I stop, my arm holding her thigh up, denying her the climax she so desperately seeks. Her brows knit together in frustration as she shoots me a glare through the mirror, questioning why I”ve halted her pleasure.
”Liars don”t get to come,” I taunt, my words heavy with desire as I plunge my fingers into her wet cunt, relishing in the slick sensation. Coated in her juices, I bring them to my mouth, savoring her taste with a smirk. Her face is a mixture of frustration and desire, her lips parting in silent protest.
”Fuck, you taste delicious,” I remark, my voice husky with arousal. ”Maybe next time, don”t lie, and I”ll let you finish in my mouth.” With a teasing grin, I guide my fingers back to her wet folds, collecting more of her essence before offering them to her lips. ”See how delicious you taste?”
She moans around my fingers, her gaze locked on mine through the mirror, a silent apology evident in her eyes. ”Please,” she begs, the sound muffled by my fingers in her mouth. ”Please let me come.”
I chuckle darkly, withdrawing my fingers from her mouth and trailing them down her neck. ”You want it that badly, huh?” I tease, enjoying the desperation reflected in her eyes. ”Maybe I”ll consider it... if you beg nicely.”
Her frustration is evident in the way her eyes widen in disbelief. ”Beg nicely,” she parrots, “seriously?” she asks.
I chuckle at her reaction, finding amusement in the exchange. ”No, not really,” I mock, relishing in this power play. ”I don”t like being lied to,” I add.
With that, I reach down and cover her tempting pussy, a subtle reminder of who”s in control. Then, without another word, I grab her hand, lead her out of the gym, and make my way toward the dinner table. I can sense her annoyance, but there”s something about her like this that I can”t help but enjoy.