Page 44 of Raine
“You are not going out dressed in that, Dark One.”
“You know I am,” she sasses, and I smother a laugh.
“Don’t you fucking move, Kenzi,” he demands before speaking to me again.
“Just work it out. It doesn’t need to be a long show, but I need something. Please, Rainey.”
“You sound so pretty when you beg, Justyce.”
“Fuck you,” he grouses before hanging up the phone and dismissing me.
I let loose the laugh I’d held in during our call and head to the bathroom. It looks like my day of doing fuck all and reading my mother’s diary will have to wait.
I spent the morning on the phone with the girls, trying to organize something, but the only one who could help me tomorrow was Starr. I have no idea what routine I’ll come up with, but I’ll work it out.
After having a light lunch, I dress in small lycra shorts and a sport crop bra, then wait for Starr. A couple of minutes after letting Starr in the main gate that surrounds our four mansions, the bell rings, signaling she is at the front of my property. I check the cameras on my phone just in case, frowning when I see Starr’s beaten-up car. She really needs a new one; that thing looks like a damn death trap. I press the button so she can drive in and head to the front door. I figured we may as well use my dance studio here instead of driving to Arcane.
“Hey, girl,” she sings, closing her rust bucket of a door.
“You really should let me buy you a fucking car. I hate that death trap.”
She rolls her eyes. “You are not buying me a fucking car. Move your sexy ass; we’ve got a dance to choreograph.”
I smile at her sass, walking inside and out the back to my dance studio. We walk over the stepping stones in the grass and past the pool to the studio. Fishing around in my pocket, I find my keys and unlock the sliding door.
This room is a vast contradiction to the rest of my house. Instead of dark and gothic, it’s bright and airy, with mirrors lining the back wall as well as a balance beam. It’s like walking into a dome of glass, the ceiling rounding and forming around us. It’s beautiful and one of my favorite places.
I look at Starr in the reflection; she’s bending over behind me, stretching, her booty shorts leaving nothing to the imagination, and I have to force myself to look away from her.
I move toward the bar and start stretching myself. Images and memories from the last couple of weeks rent free space in my head. My thoughts are like a damn tsunami, and I need to quiet them before they swallow me.
Standing up, I walk over to the far edge of the glass panels where there is a fridge full of water and sports drinks. I grab one for myself and Starr, and then move toward the stereo system.
Turning my Bluetooth on, I open the Spotify app and press play on a random playlist. Chloe Adams “Dirty Thoughts” starts blaring thorough the speakers, and I change the song quickly.
“Hey! I like that song.”
I know she does and I do too, but I’m trying to escape my thoughts, not encourage them.
“We can listen to it later.”
I hear her huff, and I smile. She can deal. For the next few hours, we come up with and practice a new routine. By the end of it, we are both sweaty, and Starr has stripped down to her bra and only has her booty shorts on.
We’re huffing and panting, resting our elbows on the balance bar, and sipping water. Our eyes meet in the mirror, her pretty green ones on mine, and I feel my stomach tighten.
We don’t break the stare even though I know I should, but I can’t find it in myself to look away. A bead of water drips from the corner of her pouty lips and I follow the motion.
I’m about to turn away, but Starr’s hand wraps around the nape of my neck, snaring me in her forest depths. Where a breath away from each other; my mouth has gone dry, so I lick my lips, and it seems that’s the invitation she was looking for.
Her lips crash against mine, and I open up to her, my tongue dueling with hers as I wrap my hands around her waist, drawing her closer.
I really should pull away because I don’t need to add this confusion to my already chaotic mind, but if I’m honest, it’s been a long time coming.
She runs her free hand over my abdomen and it clenches in anticipation, but instead of going south, she brings it up and squeezes my tit. I moan into her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to lower us to the ground. I follow her movements, thankful for the yoga mat underneath us, when she spreads my legs with her hands and positions herself over the top of me, our legs entwined and scissoring.
She doesn’t break the kiss, and I’m thankful for it, knowing I’ll start questioning what we’re doing if she does. After another minute, she moves, nipping my bottom lip in the process.
My mind spirals as I look into her eyes, but she shakes her head, lifts my leg high in the air, our pussies lined up and have soaked through our shorts.
