Page 56 of Barre Fight
“Sorry to cause you pain,” he smiled, his breath catching slightly as she swiped a thumb over his nipple almost absentmindedly.
“No, you’re not,” she retorted. She pressed open-mouthed kisses to his skin, scattering sparks of need everywhere her lips landed, then ran her hands up over his biceps and shoulders, then ran them down his back to squeeze his ass, groaning in what sounded like frustration. “God, look at you, you’re a freaking work of art.”
“Not as brightly coloured as you usually like, though.”
She stopped and looked up into his face, then ran her eyes over his torso, looking at him with such unrestrained desire that he wanted to rip her dress in two. “I’ll take one naked you here over five naked women on a hillside any day.”
“Deal,” he said, and he pulled her against him and kissed her hard, realizing as he did that a few minutes had been enough to make him miss the taste of her mouth. He spun her around so he could walk her back towards her bed, swallowingthe half-moan, half-giggle that escaped into his mouth as he steered her backwards, hands roaming as much of her small, lush body as he could reach. When the backs of her legs hit the mattress, she sat down and her hands flew to his belt. Justin’s cock throbbed as the buckle clattered, and within seconds she had his fly down and was pulling his jeans down his thighs, leaving his boxer briefs slightly askew on his hips.
“Good god,” she murmured, once he’d shoved off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans. “On stage is one thing, but you’re so much better up close.”
She traced her fingers along the lines of muscle in his quads, and he forced himself to stay still, even when her hands brushed along his inner thighs, which were ticklish on a normal day and screamingly sensitive in this moment. He couldn’t stop his cock from twitching against his briefs, though, and Ivy grinned up at him. The sight of Ivy Page sitting on the edge of the bed with her face inches from his cock, her lush mouth pulled into a wide and knowing smile, was almost enough to make him lightheaded on his feet.
But she was still fully clothed, and that had to be fixed. Gender equality, and all.
Justin lowered himself to his knees in front of her, kissing her lips, her jaw, her neck on the way down. He ran his hands down her body, eliciting a full-body shiver, and slid them under her dress until he found the waistband of her tights. His eyes met hers and he raised his eyebrows in question. She nodded and lifted her hips off the bed, and he peeled her tights down her body, unzipped her boots, and discarded the lot in a jumbled mess. Finally, after thinking about it all night, he ran his hands up her legs, drinking in the sensation of the smooth, soft skin under his palms. She watched him explore, eyes sparkling with desire, but he wanted to take his time. Take all of her in. He should have known right away she’d been a dancer,with calves like this, round and firm from a million relevés that had sculpted her muscles forever.
He sat back on his heels, took one of her feet in both his hands, and examined it.
“What are you doing?” she asked cautiously.
“You’ve got nice feet.” A high arch and a big toe that was longer than her second one, the way women needed for pointe work.
“Not as nice as yours,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and pulling her foot out of his hand. “But at least my toes don’t frighten young children anymore.”
He chuckled and resumed his exploration, running his hands back over her shins until he reached her thighs, where the skin was warm and smooth and even softer than the coat that lay crumbled by the front door. He dropped his mouth to the skin just above her knee and traced his tongue up, slowly enough that she could stop him if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Instead, she lifted her hips again and pulled her dress up over her head, tossing it away carelessly.
Justin looked up and felt lightheaded again, because Ivy Page was sitting in front of him in nothing but her underwear and her glasses. Her soft, strong legs were wide enough for him to kneel between them, and her hair was dishevelled from stripping off her dress, and her breasts, fucking hell, her breasts. They were perfect. Small and pale, the tops of them streaked by thin, shimmering stretch marks, and spilling out of the top of a black bra with lace so flimsy that if he’d known she was wearing it this whole time he wouldn’t have been able to put a sentence together all night. Her panties were black lace, too, high waisted and retro, and she was watching him take her in like she was a little surprised to find herself here, too, nearly naked and so turned on he could smell it through those pin-up girl panties.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Talk about a work of art. Put this in a museum.”
“You’re not allowed to touch things when they’re in a museum,” she replied. “And I really want you to touch me.”
Justin grinned and returned his mouth to her inner thigh, running his hands up her legs until he was gripping her hips, her flesh giving slightly beneath his large, strong hands. Ivy sighed in anticipation when he pulled her body closer to the edge of the bed.
“Before you ask, yes, you can take them off,” she said, and a second later, he’d peeled the black lace away and slid the panties down her legs.
He let out a strangled groan as he stared at her. She’d never felt more wanted than she did sitting on this hotel bed, in her favorite and sexiest bra, nearly naked and wetter than she could remember being in years, with Justin Winters on his knees in front of her, eyes dark with need and one hand stroking his obviously rigid cock through his underwear. When he lowered his head and nudged her thighs open a few more inches with his face, then ran his tongue through her folds, she barely heard her own whimper of relief over the sound of his growl. Why was it so arousing when he growled like that?
Ivy threaded one hand into his hair as he tasted her, and she put the other hand on the bed to hold her up. She wanted to lie back, but not as much as she wanted to watch him do this. She was glad she’d kept her glasses on so she could see it all perfectly. Because oh, god, he was good at this, she thought, arching her back to offer him more of herself as he teased and took her folds and her clit the way he’d done with her nipples. Ivy’s whole body was molten muscle, pleasure making her feelhot and loose and powerful and desperate all at once. When the hand that wasn’t on his cock slid down between her legs and joined his tongue, two fingers circling her entrance slowly and dipping into her wetness, she gasped and let her body fall back onto the bed.
“Oh god, ohgod,” she whimpered to the ceiling, and the room started to spin like she was drunk. She arched against the mattress, feeling her orgasm gather speed and barrel towards her, just like it had when he’d held her against the wall and given her exactly what she’d asked for. “I’m going to… god, don’t stop, please.”
He replied with another growl, and Ivy was suddenly gripped by the need to know whether he made that same sound when he came. Panting, she managed to prop herself up on her elbows. Justin moaned against her, and their eyes met.
“Come with me,” she gasped before she could stop herself. “Touch yourself.”
She half expected him to refuse, to argue, to stay focused on her pleasure out of sheer stubbornness. If anyone could argue with their head between a woman’s thighs and two fingers swirling and spiraling inside her, it was this man. But instead, he thrust the waistband of his briefs the rest of the way down and took his long, thick cock in his hand. His eyes slammed shut and he groaned against her as he wrapped his fingers around it and began to stroke.
Ivy felt that groan in every single nerve ending, and she watched him as he touched himself faster, determined to join her as she flew over the edge, his tongue and fingers never losing their rhythm on her body, in her body.
“Oh god, oh shit, oh—” Any remaining words were stolen by the force of her orgasm. It slammed into her and made her hips buck against Justin’s mouth as he drew wave after wave of overwhelming, ungovernable pleasure from her exhausted core. Shewas wordless, but in that moment she was glad she couldn’t do anything but gasp and scream silently up at the ceiling. Because yes, she learned, as his body jerked and shook between her legs, he did growl when he came.
“Holy shit,” she whispered into the silent hotel room, when Justin’s orgasm had subsided and he’d raised his head, chest heaving and his breath raspy and uneven. In the half-darkness, he looked absolutely wrecked, his hair askew, his lips shining with her wetness. She wanted to turn on all the lights so she could see it. She wanted to wreck him again, wanted to be the one whose hand and mouth and body made him spasm and lose control like that. She wanted to hear that growl again.
As soon as she regained the ability to move.
“That was incredible.” he said, his voice a little shaky. He licked his lips. “Holy shit.”
