Dancer's Body

Chapter 26

"Good morning."

She groans into the pillow, the slivers of light peeking through the shades clawing into her brain. Where am I?

"Do you remember last night?" Roman sat on the bed next to her, a plate of pancakes with a side of Advil and water. He was in just an undershirt and baggy sweats. Seeing him like that, casual with mussed up hair, made her ache between her thighs.

"Kind of," she said, reaching for the pancakes.

"There's butter, and syrup from Toronto—"

She shook her head and ate the cakes dry by hand, getting the little sponges into her stomach as fast as possible to soak up the alcohol.

"Come on," he protested. "At least try it." He tore off a piece of the cake, dipped it in the warm syrup, and fed it to her. It brought her back to last night. The cake at the restaurant, the gluey dance floor, the secret drinks in the back of the club. "Well?" he asked.

"It's good," she agreed.

"I was worried about you. Did you sleep all right?"

She looked down and saw his baby blue tee-shirt draped across her breasts. Suddenly she remembered, and spotted the light stains from last night when she'd tried so hard to make herself orgasm in his bed. She scooted over to cover them, embarrassed. Why did his bedding have to be black?

"Olivia, I have to tell you something."

"Hmm?"

"I ... I have to let you go."

She stopped mid-chew. "What do you mean?"

"You're ... I have to fire you," he said quietly.

"What? Because of last night? That's not fair!" she said, pushing the plate away from her.

"It's not because of last night."

"Sure," she said. "I can't believe you."

"Olivia, honestly. I ... I spoke to the board about this earlier this week."

"Then, why?" she asked.

"Because!" She'd never heard him yell at her before, and it shut her up immediately. "Because ... after I saw your performance, I can't ..."

"Can't what? I thought it was good."

"It was good. That's why. I can't bear not having you."

"You mean—"

"You know what I mean," he said, cradling the back of her head and kissing her. He moved between her legs, which she opened eagerly. He worked his way with kisses down her neck, pushed up the shirt and nibbled lightly on her nipples. "No," he said, when she moved to take off the shirt. "I like you in this."

She let her head fall back on the pillow and closed her eyes. He kissed his way down, lower. When he reached her underwear, he tore the lace apart with ease. She lifted herself towards him, and when his lips met her clit she arched and groaned uncontrollably.

He slid one finger into her, curled it and stroked her from the inside. A jolt of pleasure rocked her. "That's your G-spot," he whispered from between her legs.

"Come here," she said, clawing at his shoulders.

"Why?" he asked playfully.

"I want you ..."

He stood on his knees before her and pulled the tank top over his head. She watched as he pulled off the sweats, the cock she'd felt so many times exposed. It seemed huge, and she swallowed hard. "Here," he said, taking her hand and bringing it to him. It was hard and hot. As she started to stroke him, her wetness intensified.