Page 71 of Barre Fight
“Please, I can’t take any more,” she begged. “Please, Justin.”
“Oh, you can take more,” he murmured, and before she could argue, he slid a third finger inside her and closed his lips over her clit, sucking hard as he pumped his fingers hard into her, and Ivy’s hand flew from his hair to cover her mouth as she screamed.
Her orgasm rolled over her, her muscles rigid and shaking as wave after wave of sensation careened through her body, shattering her and pulling her back together, only to splinter her again. There was nothing but Justin’s mouth wrenching these sensations from her, driving her to heights of desperation and elation she’d never imagined possible. Nothing but Justin’s fingers filling her, turning her body into liquid fire, into something at once vulnerable and intoxicatingly powerful. Nothing to do but surrender to this perfect demolition.
Once again, time slipped sideways, and Ivy couldn’t havesaid how long she stood there, her legs trembling as Justin groaned against her, urging her on. Refusing to pull away or release his hand from where it pinned her to the wall, perhaps the only reason she was still upright on her shaking, molten legs. Finally, she stopped shuddering around him and his fingers slowed inside her, but he kept sucking her, drawing out a few final quivers from her, as though he wanted to see just how much pleasure her body was capable of. Ivy gasped as his lips brushed over her clit one last time, and he pulled his mouth from between her thighs to look up at her, his eyes glassy and his chin slick. For a long moment, he stared up at her and their ragged, synchronized breaths were the only sound in the room.
“That was…” Ivy started, but her vocabulary was gone again. Even if she had a thesaurus, she wouldn’t find the words for what had just happened to her. What he’d done to her.
“That was spectacular. You are spectacular,” Justin said, gently removing his fingers, but not before stroking the swollen, tender spot inside her and eliciting yet another shudder and a final, tiny gasp that fluttered Ivy’s eyes shut. When she opened them, Justin was sitting back on his heels, looking up at her with wonder and satisfaction and undisguised need all over his face.
“Come here,” Justin said quietly, and he reached up to grasp her hips, then eased her down to the floor. He pulled her into his lap and she straddled him, both of them inhaling sharply as her swollen, naked flesh came into contact with his fully clothed erection. God, he was so hard, and she could almost feel him throbbing through his suit pants. Exhausted as she was, she couldn’t resist rolling her hips gently against him, and he let out a strangled groan, tipping his head up to the ceiling as if praying for strength and restraint.
So she did it again. He more than deserved it.
Justin had thought nothing could compare to three thunderous curtain calls on the Lincoln Center stage, 2000 people on their feet clapping and whooping as his heart raced and beads of sweat slid from his temple down his cheek. Tonight, he’d bowed low as the audience cheered and watched as a few droplets splashed from his face onto the floor and caught the bright stage lights. A piece of him sparkling and soaking into the stage of the most famous ballet theater on earth, where it joined all the traces of the other dancers, legends, who had once danced here. Nureyev, Baryshnikov, Mitchell. Him.
He’d thought nothing tonight could top that feeling of bone-deep exhaustion lightened by satisfaction and delight, but here it was. Here she was. Ivy, her dress rucked up around her waist and her breath still jagged from her orgasm, limbs loose and heavy and wrapped around him.Spectaculardidn’t begin to describe it.
She rolled her hips against him again and the sound that escaped his throat was pure desperation. Taking her apart with his mouth and hands, listening to her whimper and beg and moan his name, had lit every cell in his body with white-hot fire and turned his cock to stone. It was straining against his underwear and his pants now, and every time the pressure of her hips returned, Justin slid closer to losing whatever was left of his mind. He could taste her orgasm on his lips, on his tongue, he could smell her arousal from here, and if he didn’t get inside her soon he was going to pass out here on the floor of room 663 of the Truman Hotel.
She seemed to know this, and seemed to be enjoying the sounds she was pulling out of him, but she was also unbuckling his belt as she pressed hot openmouthed kisses against his neck. Justin pulled his suit jacket off and got to work on his buttons, shoving his shirt off his shoulders as his belt buckle clattered to the floor. Ivy’s hands slid up his chest and into his hair, and shekissed him hard, grinding her hips against him more insistently than ever and holy fuck, if she kept that up, his pants were going to be absolutely ruined and he was going to?—
Ivy gasped against his mouth as he tightened his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. He staggered to his feet and she looked down into his face, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.
“Where do you want me?” she whispered, the words flickering hot and fleeting over his lips. He leaned forward and captured them with his mouth, kissing her hard and deliberate.
Everywhere, he thought, as her tongue dueled with his. He wanted her on every surface in this room and in every borough of this city. And definitely at home in Sydney. But right now, on the bed and under him, immediately.
Justin took a few short strides and deposited her on the bed on her back, then shucked his pants and underwear off as fast as possible. She watched him, eyes raking over his chest and down his legs and taking in his cock. Her gaze was so full of heated intention he could almost feel it singe his skin. She met his eyes with a fierce, determined stare, and only broke contact when she pulled her dress over her head, revealing those perfect breasts, which swayed slightly as she tossed the dress aside. That dress had done what it seemed to have been designed to do—it had half destroyed him. And sliding into her pussy, wet and hot and ready to take every inch of him, would surely finish the job.
The thought had him moving swiftly onto the bed, and a second later, they both groaned as the entire length of his body covered hers, their hips flush and her wetness shocking against his bare skin. He lowered his mouth to her chest and relished the return of her breathy moans as he swirled his tongue around one hard, pebbled nipple. Justin braced his hands on either side of her body and ground the length of his cock against her wetness, as he lapped at her skin, paying her back with interestfor her teasing on the floor, and the moans morphed into deliciously frustrated profanities as she raked her fingers up his back. God, he loved making her swear, his goddamn fucking professional.
“Fuck, please hurry up,” she whimpered, and Justin’s moaned against her skin. She wanted him inside her just as badly as he wanted to be there, he thought, stroking his cock against her once more, and feeling her slickness almost coat his hard length. With self-control he didn’t know he still possessed, he rose to his knees and reached for the bedside table. He’d never put on a condom so fast. But then, he’d never needed to be inside someone like this, had never felt like desire and emotion would sweep him away like a raging tide if he didn’t anchor himself in the slick softness of her body.
He lowered himself again to cover her body and she immediately wrapped her arms around him and canted her hips, seeking him, inviting him in. His last thought before he entered her was that barely a month ago, he’d wanted Ivy Page as far away from him as possible. And now, he didn’t know if he’d ever get close enough.
Chapter Twenty
They could see the fires from the air.
As the plane made its approach into Sydney, Justin looked out the window. Instead of fluffy white clouds, the landscape was blanketed by patches of dense grey smoke. In the row in front of him, Justin could see through the gap in his seat, Matty had his TV tuned into the news, which was playing images of burning bushland and yet more smoke plumes on a grim, stomach-clenching loop. Justin glanced out the window again, then pulled his phone out of the seat pocket. Of all the times for the in-flight Wi-Fi to go down.
He hadn’t heard from Missy or his mum since they took off from LA almost 14 hours ago, and he had an awful feeling that when he landed and could finally get in touch with them again, he was going to hear bad news. Or worse, no news, because his mum, Shane, and Steen had had to move so quickly to get to safety that there’d been no time to get in touch.
Next to him, Ivy dozed, one leg pulled up under the other and her body slightly angled towards his. The armrest separated them, and with all their colleagues seated around them, he knew better than to push it up and pull her closer. Her head waslisting at a perilous sideways angle that he suspected would translate into a sore neck when she woke. But this wasn’t some anonymous subway car, and he couldn’t offer her his shoulder to sleep on here.
Still, last night, they’d agreed. This wasn’t just a tour fling. Those happened in the company from time to time—more often than he knew, probably, especially since Peter abandoned his Pas de Don’t policy. But this wasn’t that. This was… more.
I want more of you, she’d said, and the memory of how she’d said it, decisive and firm even at whisper volume, temporarily dulled his anxiety. Ivy Page was a woman who knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was him. The thought of it almost made him push the armrest up and slide closer to her, their colleagues be damned. Instead, he just looked down at her in the smoke-flattened morning light, taking in the freckles on her cheeks and the full swell of her bottom lip. A little dry and chapped after all this time on a plane these last twenty-four hours. And all the kissing they’d done the night before.
He wanted so much more of her. He wanted to listen to her talk about the little-known parts of Australian history, and he wanted to learn which musicals were her favourites and why. He’d even go see them with her if she wanted, god help him. He’d spent enough time making Ivy Page frown and grimace. Now, he just wanted to make her smile. And gasp and moan, then smile some more.
Christ. He wasgonefor this woman.
Did she feel the same way about him? She wanted more of him, but did she want all of it? He’d spent so many years telling himself that he wasn’t a romantic, that he wasn’t built for long-term and for love, and frankly, he’d been right. This was damn uncomfortable, this wondering and hoping, this wide-open vulnerability. He spent his days uncomfortable, twisting his body into shapes it was never meant to make, demanding theimpossible of his muscles and his ligaments. But this… he’d never made these demands of his heart before.
Next to him, Ivy shifted, turning her head away from him and exposing the length of her neck. For a moment, Justin was transfixed by the sight of her pulse fluttering under the pale skin, transported by the memory of how, a few nights ago, he’d run his stubble-rough chin against that very skin and she’d answered him with a needy whimper. She wanted more of him, he told himself. He wasn’t alone in this. She shifted again and pulled the neck of her jumper up. It fell back into place immediately, but she slept on.
