6
On one of his rare days off before he was set to leave for his first world tour, Rick sat in his apartment, bored… and lonely.
He was used to boredom. Whenever someone left him alone during the day he often found himself staring out the window, mindlessly strumming his guitar, or playing games on his phone. I can’t sit still and relax. Growing up in a vibrant, exciting world of dance and culture had made him come to expect certain things. For one, he expected to always be with someone. Even when his mother wasn’t around he had some unique guest to swap stories with after school. These days he was usually working with people or out on a date.
The other thing he expected was excitement. People, of course, brought excitement, but he was also used to finding it on his own. Before the fame, Rick would wander the streets on a sunny day, looking for new holes in the wall and joining games of basketball in parks. Then he became famous. Seemingly overnight. Suddenly Rick couldn’t go out without a bodyguard and a goofy disguise that only made him stand out more.
So here he was, a sunny day off, and he had nothing to do. Everyone was too busy to hang out. He couldn’t go out without supervision. Being holed up in his apartment was fun only until he fully woke up, ate a late lunch, and watched one show on TV. Rick tried to write a song, but his brain wasn’t with it that day. Come tour time he would be teeming with ideas, he was sure, but until then…
His phone buzzed. It was a text from Fiona. “What are you doing today, sugar?”
Rick would bet that she wanted him to say her. “Day off. Just chillin’.”
“So you got some time for me?”
Those words remained on Rick’s screen, staring back at him for far too long. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fiona. She was fun, flirtatious, and definitely sexy. A triple threat. The kind of girl Rick usually liked. Except he was trying to move away from the flings and bed buddies. Fiona had made it clear more than once that she wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. Neither was Rick, really. And yet I’m tired of it right now. He wanted fun, but mindless fun was getting old.
Maybe he wasn’t much into his mother’s lifestyle at all. Perhaps their similarities ended with a love for dancing and entertaining others. Angelina’s policy of open and free love worked for her throughout her life. For Rick? Maybe he was starting to take more after his father, whoever he was.
“I’m meeting someone in an hour, sorry.” It was a lie. Better than saying that he didn’t want to see her, though. “Maybe next time.”
He didn’t get a response, nor did he want to. Fiona probably felt that rejection like a masochist feels pain. It stung, but it probably felt good too. How many women could say they were rejected by Rick Rodriguez?
“Okay, man, you need to get out of here.” Rick forced himself off his couch and took a look at the bright, warm day beyond his windows. Where in the world could he go without getting in trouble? What could he even do?
There was really only one option. Rick grabbed his wallet and headed out, careful to remember his hat and glasses.
A dance studio lurked nearby. Not owned by his label, but ran by a trusted member of the community who let Rick in under an assumed name. Once in a while, when he was tired of executives and choreographers breathing down his neck, Rick would rent a practice room for a few hours and do whatever he wanted. This sometimes included his latest moves he had to perfect, but more often than not it was freestyling and the various dances he learned growing up. For example, he didn’t get to rumba very much as a celebrity. It was easier to practice with a partner, but when a man didn’t have one, flying solo was okay too.
Rick arrived without being seen. He went up three flights of stairs before finding the twenty-by-twenty abode he would call his for the next three hours.
A bench. A barre. A wall of mirrors. A small water fountain in the far corner. Speakers attached to a phone jack. It was everything Rick needed to stretch his muscles and have his fun. He pulled out his phone and brought up his favorite dance playlists. Most of the songs were old. The tunes he heard growing up in the ‘90s when Tejano was big. Some Argentinean folk music. Brazilian samba. There was nothing like those beats pumping through him, setting his blood on fire and taking him back to a time when people treated dancing like it was a ticket to nirvana. With the horns blaring in the room, Rick grabbed the barre and swung his leg to stretch it wide. He planned on moving a lot that day and wasn’t about to pull a hammy before his tour.
When he was a kid, his mother told him to not get overwhelmed by what culture, what ethnicity he “really” was. There were times the kids at school or even the visitors passing through tried to tell Rick he was more Argentinean because his mother raised him. Others said that Brazilian suited him more because the father’s genes are stronger. Other people said that since he grew up in California he was more attuned to Central American culture. When he switched from tango to Tejano music, he sometimes got weird looks. As if he didn’t know the difference between the two cultures. Of course, certain people didn’t know their ass from their elbows and insisted on calling him Mexican. Kid Rick often lashed out against these thoughts. Who was anyone to say what or who he was?
Yet no matter how much his mother reassured him that he was “American” or “A Citizen of Global Culture,” Angelina could not protect her son from the conflated messages hounding him from every angle. Sometimes Rick proudly told guests and the other kids that he was Argentinean. The flag hanging in his mother’s dance studio meant something to him. Except other times he wondered if he could really call himself a proud Argentinean. Until he became an adult he never even visited the country. Besides, what country was more popular in America? Certainly it was Brazil. Whenever the teachers at school would allude to Brazilian politics and culture, Rick would interject with an anecdote about what a proud Brazilian he was.
I’m no one and everyone at the same time. As he leaped from one end of the studio to the other, his powerful body the only thing he had control over, Rick realized that he needed to accept the fact that there would always be someone around to argue with him about who he was. My body is all I have. The body his mother gave him. No matter what, the blood of dance flowed through him. No matter where he was from, that was a part of his identity. Whether he spoke Spanish, Portuguese, or English, Rick was a dancer first and foremost. His body was everything.
Then there were women like Olivia, who had the same blood coursing through her. That Colombian grandmother did the right thing when she encouraged little Olivia to become one of the greatest dancers Rick ever had the privilege of dancing with.
Why am I thinking about her? Sweating, breathing hard, Rick leaned against the barre and imagined Olivia, with her long, dark tresses and that turn to her nose that said she knew what she was doing all the time. Ever since Rick flubbed at chewing her out, Olivia had shown more initiative than even Rick. After their dinner at the sushi place, they rarely talked. Olivia was always professional, even when in Rick’s arms in the practice studio. Where was that woman he met on the music video set? Rick read the comments – good and bad – that went with that video. Almost everyone hailed Olivia as a fresh-faced newcomer. Even the label was pleased with how she was doing in tour rehearsals. Sure, she wasn’t a known entity like Clara, but Clara wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
Women.
Rick sat on the bench, a towel draped around his shoulders and his water bottle against his lips. Ah, this was the problem with dancing solo. He always thought too much without someone telling him what to do. When could he simply enjoy dance for the sake of it again?
A figure walked by the window in the door. At first Rick paid it no mind. Then it walked by again. A woman. Medium complexion. Dark hair. Sharp nose…
Olivia?
He rose. The door eked open, Rick poking his head out and laughing to himself. There was Olivia, looking for an empty room to borrow.
“Well what do you know?” He stopped her in her tracks, that head of hair whipping around as Olivia sent him her shock. “Never thought I’d see you around here.”
Olivia stepped forward, those eyes growing larger as she realized that yes, it was Rick she saw in some plebian studio. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? What are you doing here?”
“Practicing. Like I assume you are.”
“Uh, couldn’t you go to the label’s studios for that? They have way better facilities. And don’t cost you anything.”
Rick shrugged. “People coddle me there. And keep an eye on me. It’s pretty annoying. Besides, this place is closer to my apartment. I come here when I want to be alone.”
“Then I’ll leave you alone.”
Before she could completely turn away, Rick opened his door wide and took a step toward her. “Don’t have a room, do you?’
“Guy at the front desk said I could have a room if I could find one. Serves me right sleeping in late on my day off.”
Rick gestured to his room. “Come on in and keep me company. I’ll save you a few bucks.”
He had her at the first invitation, but when he mentioned the money part she balked. “I don’t need you to pay for stuff.” She smiled. “The label does that for you, duh.”
Ah, that smile was infectious. It made Rick smile too. “You coming in or not? I have this room for at least two more hours. It’s getting lonely in here.”
Olivia poked her head in but immediately scrunched up her nose. “I can tell you’ve been sweating all over this place. Ew.”
Rick gently pushed her in and latched the door behind them. “I sweat all the time during our rehearsals, and you’ve never complained. Besides,” he watched her put her bags down by his, “I know for a fact that your body odor isn’t exactly roses either.”
“Rude.” Olivia tied her hair back and scuffed her dance shoes against the floor. With her arms up, her shirt rode up as well, revealing her taut, firm dancer’s stomach and the muscles beneath. Down, Rick. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to not comment on a girl’s sweat?”
Funny she should say that. “My mother taught me that everyone is natural. Me, you…” he gestured toward Olivia, who had a scrunchie in her mouth while she fought with her thick hair. “Whether it’s hair or odor, we are all the same. Bodies are natural and beautiful.” He flashed her his cheesy smile, intent on confusing her. My mother really did say that stuff. Olivia could figure it out, though.
“Uh huh.” While her eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets, Olivia went to the barre and began stretching. Her leg came up easily enough, resting against the bar while her arms stretched toward her toes. She made it look so easy. Women in general made it look so easy. What I would give to be half as graceful as a ballerina. Might not be the most manly thing in the world, but Rick always admired ballerinas for their utmost grace, whether they were male or female. Of course, he preferred the female ones. Especially when they…
Olivia raised herself en pointe, toes curling beneath her weight while her breath steadied. “You’re really good at that,” Rick said. “Did you take ballet as a kid too? I don’t remember you mentioning that. Just the tango and rumba and all that good stuff.”
“I have studied everything. Consider me a Jill of all dances.”
When she put her leg down and backed away from the barre, Rick put his hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you show me?” he asked. “Perhaps you could teach me a thing or two.”
She cocked her eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. “And what could I teach the great Rick Rodriguez?”
Olivia did not relent when Rick slowly brought him into his arms. “I dunno. Show me.”
There was something about the bite to her voice, that spark in her eye, and even the sway of her hips that enticed Rick to nestle her close to him. Then Olivia snapped away, her face covered in the crime of mischief, and the next thing he knew he was seduced into her world of unexpected, unchoreographed dance.
***
When Olivia got up that day, she did not anticipate that her run to the independent dance studio would include an encounter with Rick. Of all people! What was a high-profile rock star doing at a place like this? Not that it was run down by any means. But if Rick was a man of money and privilege, then he should be using the label’s own studios. He would have everything he needed. Everyone would tend to him. To hang out by himself? To use the basic facilities? Man, what was he doing?
Did it matter now? Because here Olivia was, locked in his strong, athletic arms that wanted nothing more than to squeeze her body, her head resting against his broad shoulder.
The song playing through the speakers was a samba number that Olivia vaguely recognized. When Rick whispered in her ear, his gravelly voice asking if she knew how to samba, Olivia curled her bottom lip inward and shrugged her shoulders in his grasp. “Do I know how to samba? Why not insult me some more?”
“Just checking. Want to make sure you can keep up with me.”
“You sure you can keep up with me?”
On the count of four, Rick popped her out of his embrace, forcing Olivia to land gracefully on her toes as she snatched his hand and began to dance.
The samba required quick, brisk, and flawless footwork. To Olivia’s cheerful surprise, Rick did not make her do all the work when it came to movement. With every beat his feet were moving too, sometimes in time to Olivia’s, and other times on their own accord. We’re freestyling. Many professional dancers choreographed this until they could do it so flawlessly that audiences were stunned into silence. How could they do that? Was it magic? Were they so in tune with one another that they knew what the other was going to do next? Yes, to all of that.
Olivia had many kinds of partners through her life. Dance partners were the hardest to match well. It required even greater chemistry than sex. For a dancer like Olivia to feel one-hundred percent comfortable in a man’s arms on the dance floor, he had to be attentive, energetic, and strong. Oh, and talented, of course. Sure sounds like sex. Mediocre sex wasn’t nearly as offensive as mediocre pairs dancing, however.
It sure felt similar in some ways, though…
The practice studio was small, but adequate for a contained samba number. Olivia stepped to the beat from one side of the room to the next, Rick following, snatching her arms, caressing her side, and letting his hand fall to her rear more than once. Sly dog. Olivia doubted those were on accident. She sent him a cautionary look as his hand got close again, but then it diverted to her hip, squeezing her flesh before Olivia twirled out of his grasp and held herself to the wall.
The song faded out. Rick was sweaty, chest heaving in anxious breaths as he wiped his face and bent over, hands on knees. His dark hair glistened from his sweat, and Olivia, who was also catching her breath, had to look away before she got any ideas.
Dancing was dangerous. Those Puritans from yesteryear had the right idea when they banned dancing because it was too much like foreplay, like fornication. Even the most uncharitable man was suddenly attractive the moment he gave himself to music. If you dance with a man for too long, it is gonna happen. One heard about it all the time in the competitive dance circles. In order to compete at that level, the pair had to have incredible chemistry. It was no wonder they were always cheating on their lovers and giving in to their dance partner. How could they say no when they already knew every inch of their partner’s body? Even Olivia was quite familiar with Rick’s build by this point. How often did he think about hers?
Rick went to his phone and paused the next song to find something better. “What do you feel like?” He tested a song, a familiar one straight from Argentina. “You sick of the tango yet?’
“Never.” Olivia said that much too quickly. “I mean… how could I ever be sick of the tango? It’s like my life-blood.”
“I feel the same way.” Rick turned the volume up on the song, and now Olivia could barely hear him. “Why do you think I named a whole album after it?”
“An album and single.”
“Ah, what a fateful single.”
He’s talking about us meeting? What a flirt. Sometimes Olivia couldn’t tell if Rick was genuinely flirting with her or if that was his default mode. Wouldn’t surprise her a bit to find out the latter.
So was it flirting when Rick pulled her into his arms again, tilting her head so he could whisper, “Don’t hold back now,” into her ear?
The sound was loud, vibrant, and echoing both in the small room and within Olivia’s body. She didn’t doubt that it echoed within Rick as well. What would happen when their bodies united in that smooth, fluid motion called dance?
Oh. That would happen.
Olivia didn’t mean for it to happen. She certainly never intended for it to happen, even back when she first realized it was Rick in the audition room. What could she possibly gain from her blood running – no, boiling – beneath her skin every time he touched her, whether it was on the side, the hip, or top of her arm? He’s trying to kill me. That stupid smirk, which flashed in her direction every time she glanced up at him, said he enjoyed it way more than he should. The beat was hot, sizzling even, and Olivia couldn’t help but let her hips, the rest of her body sway to the rhythm as a man’s large, strong hands clasped her hips and felt them move beneath their touch.
It was the same feeling of arousal Olivia had that day she stepped up to be Rick’s dance partner for the music video. When her blood boiled then, she thought it was because of the thrill of starring opposite one of the day’s hottest rock stars in his latest video. The career advancement! The prestige! But she had danced with him countless times since then. She should be over it. Over it. Rick was no more special than any previous partner… other than being very skilled and considerate on the dance floor. Why do I feel like this then? Olivia’s heart stopped when she looked up and saw that smile – not the fake one, the genuine one.
So wrapped up in these sensations was Olivia, her only escape from her mind came in the form of a dip. Her heart leaped in her throat as Rick bent her over his arm, her hair falling toward the floor as his lips came dangerously close to hers. The shock went right to her heart, as if Rick injected her with enough amorous adrenaline to light her spine on fire and melt the heart trapped in her burning ribcage.
Even though the song continued to play, Olivia remained down, her body draped over Rick’s as she looked into those dark and eager eyes.
It would be wrong. They were professionals. Olivia wasn’t the type of woman to throw away her opportunities in exchange for a quick lay. Especially with someone as unstable as a rock star!
And yet here they came. Rick’s lips, pressing against Olivia’s.
The kiss was gentle enough that if she protested it could be blown off as a joke. Heat of the tango moment. “Well, you know, I was so riled up and it sort of happened.”
Yet she didn’t protest. Olivia welcomed that man’s lips like she would welcome a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day. So when Rick pulled her back up, Olivia did not object to wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him with all the power she had.
The scruff on his face felt as comforting as she expected. Usually she found facial hair obnoxious as it scratched her skin, obscured her lips, and made her feel like she was kissing a woodsman. Yet Rick was smooth, even with his stubble. It glided against her skin, warm and comforting, just like his deceptively muscular arms which squeezed her torso now, bringing her deeper into his embrace.
If it ended here, that would be that. Not the first time Olivia kissed one of her dance partners. However, the stakes had never been as high as they were with Rick. Even if he could kiss like a great lover. Even if his lips parted hers and his tongue began to dance with hers as if a tango could happen in one’s mouth.
Oh no. Oh no no no. Here it came. That spiraling descent into carnal madness.
With the music blaring all around them, Rick lifted Olivia off the ground, her legs dangling at his side while she held on to his shoulders. He carried her to the nearest wall where a barre held strong with her rear leaning hard against it.
The man could kiss to the beat. The hot, eclectic beat of the tango music winding its way through the room. It sounds so judgmental. Tango, the dance of lust and passion… how could it be judgmental about something like this? As Rick kissed her lips, then her throat, and then her clothed shoulders, Olivia felt a famished sensation wash over her, the tango music the soundtrack to her heated desires swelling inside of her until she was about to burst. “Rick,” she whispered, his stubble against her throat and his hand on her thigh. He’s so damn close to…! “I don’t know…”
He kissed her, unrelenting, as if under the spell of the mischievous music that drove them to this level of frenzy. The song changed. The intention was the same.
There was a rule of tango that Olivia and many of her fellow dancers tried to follow: live in the moment, and do what feels right. Even the most choreographed routine had an essence of spontaneity. Nobody knew what the other might look like, how light they were on their feet that night, or how much passion they would bring to the dance floor. The same was true now, as Olivia’s instincts told her to follow through on this moment. It was what the dance wanted of her.
Nobody said no to the dance when it was a part of their blood.
Olivia’s rear slid off the barre as Rick consumed her, his hands digging into her shirt, her skin, and the muscles beneath her surface. His lips dared to press against her cheek, his tongue snaking toward her ear, the one place on her body that would turn her into a vessel that channeled the spirits of pleasure. The same ones rioting in the guitars of the music, of the piano flirting with the beat, and the accordion laughing at another couple ensnared in its trap.
Rick fell to his knees, his mouth passing over Olivia’s breasts and stopping at her stomach. Her T-shirt rose every time she took a deep breath, and when it was up far enough Rick kissed her stomach. All Olivia could do was gasp and pull on that enticing hair.
“How long have we danced now?” he asked, standing again and cornering Olivia against the wall. Rick’s breath was hot, needy, and that voice… there was that crooner’s tone, making Olivia’s knees buckle. This was what millions of women around the world sighed to hear! “You know, that first time we danced on set, I knew there was something crazy good about you.” His hand took hers, holding it above her head as he kissed her cheek and nipped the bottom of her ear. Shivers, as delightful as they were cursed, electrified Olivia’s skin.
She pulled the hem of his shirt up, feeling his abs, his chest, and that warm skin with her hand. My God. Underneath those casual clothes this lean man was anything but lean. The sheer strength Olivia felt beneath her palm made her want to die in his shadow. I want him. Dance was foreplay. Now was the time for Rick to slam her against the wall and fill her with his strength.
“You ever screw one of your backup dancers before?” Olivia suddenly asked, her clarity on the brink of destruction.
Rick, at least, did not lie or lead her on. “Yeah. Problem?”
“No.” She snorted. “Just don’t want you getting attached because we did it.”
His voice was still ragged from the intensity thus far, but Rick managed to say, “Either you have a very broad definition of sex, or I blacked out something potentially great.”
Olivia pulled him forward by the collar of his shirt. “Not yet.” When that heart-stealing smirk appeared mere inches from her eyes, she said, “Now do me dirty, Rick Rodriguez.”
Of all the things he could have called her, he said, “All right, mi compañera de baile.”
It was her first time hearing him speak that much in Spanish. His accent was flawless – of course it was, he probably grew up speaking it at home. Be sexier, why don’t you? That wasn’t the end of it. He called her his dance companion. Dance partner. Companion of the dance. The double-entendre couldn’t escape Olivia even in that crazed moment.
“Cógeme fuerte,” she said, the words rolling off her tongue before she pushed forward and kissed that man’s wonderful mouth.
There was something otherworldly about speaking another language in the heat of the moment. It allowed Olivia to distance herself from the practical, English speaking side of her that said Rick was her coworker and they had to be professional, even if dancing together made them hot, hard, and wet. And yet the other side of her begged to unleash the fire blazing inside her heart and loins. She was going to release herself with this man, whoever he was.
Like a torrential storm Rick answered her prayers, his body going hard against hers as Olivia’s shoulder’s grazed the walls and her hips rubbed against the barre beneath her. Once she made the decision to jump head first into this, she no longer worried about what would happen in the aftermath. Who cared! Rick could do anything he wanted. Like lift her shirt and kiss her breasts through her bra, his tongue sneaking into the front of her cup and teasing her. Olivia groaned.
Apparently Rick liked that animalistic sound. As the art of modern society blared on the speakers, Olivia emitted another primal moan, her hips thrusting toward Rick’s in an effort to get him inside her sooner. I don’t even know what he’s like… She barely knew him! She didn’t need to know him. All Olivia needed to know was that this man could dance and make her feel alive with the respect he served her as his compañera de baile.
Rick finally made his own sound when he pulled down Olivia’s bra and took both her breasts into his strong hands. Olivia closed her eyes, falling into the back of her mind where there were no repercussions for any actions. Only great rewards, like a gorgeous man pinching her sensitive skin before making her hard with his mouth and the graze of his teeth.
The Spanish guitar on the next track was hurried, famished. Just like the way Rick treated Olivia’s breasts while his hands fumbled with her zipper and grabbed her ass at the same time. When he pulled her hips forward she gasped, his bulge already hard against her frame. That only served to make Olivia more desperate for his forbidden touch.
I want him. I want him inside… Rick finally got her zipper open. As Olivia braced herself against his shoulders, her fingers pulling at the cotton of his shirt to entice it off his body, he pushed his down the front of her jeans and rubbed her through the last barrier between him and her sanity.
“Rick!” How satisfying his name was to say. It was short, snappy, and hard in the end. “Shit!” That was also satisfying to say.
Another naughty word fell from his lips. The way the sounds rolled out of his throat made Olivia even hotter. Especially when Rick made a grand show of pulling aside her lingerie and searching for what she kept in there. “Damn you, bringing out the Spanish.”
“And don’t you stop it.” Olivia drew her leg up, letting it rest against the barre as Rick pushed deeper into her jeans. It spread her open, and she leaned against the wall, her breasts bare to him, his mouth, as her core invited him to touch it until she died.
Olivia was very familiar with Rick’s hands by now. She knew that his fingers were long enough to catch her in dips and to give her enough balance when twirling. She knew his palms were wide and all encompassing, like now when the brunt of her center was covered, Rick’s nimble fingers slipping into her with no effort whatsoever. That’s it…! It surprised her how relaxed she was. Almost as if it were perfectly natural for those fingers she had come to know so well over the weeks to penetrate her and rub against her clit.
“Hermosa,” Rick said, his tongue rolling against her nipple and enticing more of her arousal out of her body. She gave it to him readily, her sanity long gone now that she was accepting of this situation. The music. The man. The damn way he built up her orgasm by making her as pliable as a ballerina against this barre. “You’re beautiful.”
He probably said that to every woman he boned on the fly. Olivia didn’t care. She didn’t doubt his sincerity, regardless of how often he thought it, and it made her more brazen to take him inside her. With his fingers nestled within her, two knuckles deep, Olivia knew it was damn well worth it in this moment.
She thrust against him in time to the music, a beat that hit twice a second – and so did she. With Rick kissing her lips, her throat, and her breasts, it was only a matter of time before she reached her climax alongside the song’s.
It came swiftly. One second Olivia was absorbing the moment, her body welcoming Rick into her while she let the music wash over her. Then the second she seized up, her hips locked, legs jerking, and shoulders rattling against the wall while a great, big breath shot from her throat along with her voice. Rick did not relent between her legs.
“Me vengo!” As if he couldn’t tell! What surprised Olivia even more was that such a phrase came from her mouth. She hadn’t heard it since one of her ex-boyfriends, a native Spanish speaker who forgot all English in bed. Apparently Rick liked it, however, for he groaned against her throat, his fingers pulling out and then pulling on his shirt until it finally came off.
Hot damn. Olivia may have just climaxed, but seeing this man with his shirt finally off made her appreciate how wet she now was.
The shirt fell to the floor. Both hands pressed against the wall, Rick studied Olivia’s half-spent body, drinking in her breasts, her stomach, and her spread legs with the fly down. She thought he would try to pull her pants off, but instead Rick unzipped his and pulled himself out. As expected, he was hard.
He was also gently kissing her neck while he stroked himself, Olivia’s hair gliding over his nose as she turned her head away and tried to catch her breath. I saw it anyway. Not that she didn’t want to. And, oh, was she not disappointed! The mere glance she got told her enough. Rick was built the way she liked: thick and strong.
But she wasn’t ready for him like that yet. Not when she was still reaping the benefits of an orgasm well deserved. So before Rick could get any bright ideas of where to put that thing, Olivia eased him off her and took matters into her own hands.
“You’re forward,” Rick observed, his turn to bump up against the barre as Olivia wrapped her hand around him. Yup. Thick. What a delight. “Really forward.”
“You like that in a woman, eh?”
“Sure do.”
Well, Olivia would show him forward, then!
The music switched to a slower, more sensual number. Perfect for dropping to one’s knees and getting acquainted with what one of the most famous music acts in the world kept in his pants. Eat your hearts out, fangirls. Olivia took great glee in thinking that as she rolled her tongue over the head of Rick Rodriguez’s cock.
She half expected him to finish right there. Except Rick wasn’t that kind of man. No, he was the kind of man to hold himself back while a woman took him into her mouth and treated him to one of life’s greatest pleasures. Olivia kept her hand wrapped around his base, occasionally massaging it with her grip, but her mouth did most of the work. When she heard Rick grunt with the gruff of a man who rarely got it this good, Olivia knew she had him. Even if he came right now and couldn’t go on… even if he never talked to her again… she had this blasted moment where one of the most eligible bachelors in the world came undone for her.
He was as thick in her mouth as he was in her hand. Olivia tasted him, skin and tip, overcome with his musk that made her heady with more desire. I’m ready again… Olivia’s bent legs remained spread, her free hand reaching between them and in awe over what she could do when in need of a man’s touch. Rick had started it. She was finishing it.
“Do you still want it hard?” Rick asked, his words peppered with harried breaths. “’Cause if you do, you’re gonna have to let up… fuck!”
That curse was a compliment. Olivia smiled, more for herself than him, letting her lips slowly comb his girth while her tongue wetted his length. When she came off him, he was more erect than ever. Definitely ready again. This time she wouldn’t be satisfied with just his fingers.
“I do,” she said, standing up and pushing against his cock. Olivia nipped his throat, her hands roaming the width of his dancer’s body. This was a man who played hard all day, both in the dance studio and the gym. Bless him! “Cógeme fuerte, and don’t make me say it again.”
He whipped her around and nearly slammed her against the wall, her jeans slipping past her hips while her body braced for his impact. Olivia’s yelp echoed over the new song pounding the speakers, an upbeat, saucy number that made her blood run hot in her veins. “I wanna hear you say it again,” Rick growled, the sweat on his chest luring Olivia back into his embrace. He lifted her hips up, her legs spread wide around his waist as his tip searched for the source of her arousal. “Tell me how badly you want it.”
“It? Don’t you mean you?” Olivia held herself back. Oh, she wanted to thrust forward and take him inside of her, but that wouldn’t do. “Dámelo duro.”
Rick looked at her as if he couldn’t imagine where she heard a phrase like that before. Wouldn’t you like to know? Didn’t matter. All Olivia cared about was that Rick followed through on her request that he do her harder with his cock than he had with his fingers.
One last kiss was all Olivia got – until Rick pulled her leg up with one hand and guided himself into her with the other.
She thought she had been ready. In a way she was, but nothing prepared her for him thrusting into her in one try. One moment she never knew what it was like for Rick to be inside her like that, and the next she knew. Olivia cried out, in a little pain, but mostly pleasure, for this was what she wanted, and now it was happening.
The point of no return had passed. All that was left now was to enjoy every moment.
“Yes!” Her hands grasped his bare shoulders, warm, slick with sweat, and pulsing with every flex of his muscles as he thrust into her. Rick was not gentle. Olivia had asked for anything but gentle. When you want this because of the dance, there is no such thing as gentle. Lust in the form of dance was an incubus. One that came for Olivia now and did as it willed.
She held him close to her as he thrust deep inside, searching for the spot that would make her scream the most. Olivia was too consumed with the moment to care. All she heard was that music making love to her senses like Rick now made love between her legs. No one beats a dancer… These men could go on and on. They knew endurance. They knew how to wait for the perfect moment to make their final move. Rick was no different. He entered her, again and again, holding back his pleasure until he made sure they both got what they wanted – no, needed.
“Don’t stop.” Olivia’s eyes were closed, but she could see the lights spinning and Rick’s body undulating as it worked to bring her pleasure. “I… I…”
He silenced her with a kiss that pushed every remaining word down her throat. She swallowed them, sighing as she gave herself completely to the whims of this man filling her below and inhaling her above. The hand that was not holding her ass grabbed her breast between the two of them. Olivia reached between their hips and touched herself as the song changed in intensity.
Every strum of the guitar was another thrust inside her. Every pound of the drum was her arousal spilling from her and ensuring her pleasure. Rick’s breath hurried, and so did Olivia’s fingers. The man was good, but he was still human – she had only a few seconds to reach the heights of carnal bliss before he leaped off the edge without her.
Olivia’s shout of relief echoed above the music as the first hard, orgasmic wave crashed over her. Suddenly Rick wasn’t just inside of her, but a part of her as well.
A warm, rough part of her.
There was something wonderfully primal about the way Rick held her, thrust into her, and released himself as if there was never any reason not to. Olivia welcomed him, her body elated and her heart opened to what he offered.
It was over as quickly as it began only a few minutes ago. Breathless, Rick remained inside her, his deep, powerful voice groaning in relief into her ear. Olivia was relieved too, but for different reasons. At least we got that out of the way. Hard to think that when Rick kissed her again, gently at first, and then with enough heat that Olivia worried he would want to go again so quickly. Then he pulled away from her, his lips languid on hers as he zipped himself up. He turned away.
Olivia was left standing against the wall, her sense of decency finally taking over as she pulled her shirt back down and buttoned herself up. I’m a mess. What in the world had she done?
“I’ve gotta go.” She straightened out her clothes and grabbed her duffel bag. By then Rick had turned off the music, and the silence was more deafening than the warnings going off in Olivia’s head.
Rick didn’t say anything when she snuck out of the practice room and made a detour toward the bathroom. She was glad he didn’t say anything. The last thing Olivia wanted was to hear indifference or emotion. Both were toxic right now.