The Dancer

17. The Light

Before the elevator got to Malcolm's private entry, he pulled Sara close to him, bending down to her ear.

"I have to talk to Lucien about Logan. Wait for me in my room," he practically orders her making her heart hammer in her chest again. She nods while biting her lip, the anticipation making her sick.

"Do you understand?" He asks raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she breaths out.

He smirks and glances at the floor their on. Before the doors could open, he decided to push her a little more.

"Yes, what?"

His lips delicately grazing her neck making her whimper.

What was she supposed to say? She questions herself.

"Yes..." she feels his kiss on her neck and it clicks in her brain, she knew what he wanted.

"Yes, daddy," she says smirking.

Did she really just call him that? She never thought she'd be the one to be in a situation with a man like him. A man who was the definition of dominance. A man who called her the sweetest of things. A man who was rough but not abusive. A man who wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

"Such a good girl," he whispers in her ear making ber shiver.

The elevator doors open as they collect themselves, departing.

Lucian raises his head from his phone and imediately searches for Logan.

"We need to talk," Malcolm say.

Sara obeys Malcolm, entering the apartment and going straight for his room.

She begins to pull off her clothes until she is completely nude. She tosses the dirty clothes into a hamper and instead of waiting for him on his bed she decides to go to the bathroom. Inside she begins to work the shower, turning on the right temperature for herself before stepping in.

She thought he'd like the idea of her being clean, of her being soaking wet. As she washed herself she began to worry about what exactly would occure between them. She knew sex was on both of their minds but what exactly did he like?

Was he into the bad stuff?

Did he tie girls up?

Her heart began to race in fear as her eyes began to scan her own body.

What would he think of the bruises on her back? The bruises along her ribs? on her thighs?

"There you are," Malcolm says with a sigh of relief.

"Thought maybe you went to your room. I couldn't hear the shower from my room," he explains.

She turned away from him almost shamfully. He hadn't seen her naked and she hadn't let anyone see her naked, except for her breasts that is. Now she was here, hearing him pull off his clothes as if he is about to join her.

Her eyes widen at the thought.

Oh god! He wouldn't!

Malcolm steps into the shower and instantly is beheld with lust and utter amazement. She was beautiful in every way.

He steps closer to her until he is able to grasp her upper arms and turn her. She is reluctant and pulls away.

"Sara, whats wrong? Is this too much?" He worries.

"I-I-I've just..." she sighs as her arms wrap around herself self consciously.

"I've never..."

Malcolm nods in realization. His excitement was held back. He held back the smile and the lust and tried to be empathetic.