Page 46 of On Dancer
I took a quick but thorough shower. I spent far too long debating whether my robe or a towel made more sense, settling on wrapping one towel around my waist and letting the smaller one I’d used on my hair drape around my shoulders like a cape. I emerged to find my couch empty. Alexander had apparently found the bedroom on his own, and I padded my way there to discover he’d been busy.
I’d made my bed and picked up that morning in anticipation of the possibility of a guest. However, Alexander had taken my basic tidying job and added ambiance. He’d evidently figured out how to connect his phone to my speaker because soft instrumental music filled the space. He’d also moved my collection of emergency candles from the living room to line the top of the dresser, giving the room a warm glow. And Alexander himself was a whole vibe, lounging in the center of my queen bed, shirtless, clad only in silky black briefs and propped up by pillows.
“I see you made yourself at home,” I said drily, taking a page from his usual playbook to keep myself from swooning at Alexander’s well-hidden romantic streak.
“I did.” Alexander gave an exaggerated stretch, lean arm and chest muscles rippling. His skin appeared rosier in the candlelight, and even without the pressure of an imminent performance, his face and chest were smooth as ever. Not even a freckle dared cross the perfection that was Alexander Dasher unclothed. Setting aside his phone, he patted the bed next to him. “Come here.”
I wasn’t entirely sure of the protocol, and my uncertainty as I perched next to him on the bed, still in my towel, undoubtedly showed on my face because Alexander stroked a hand down my arm. Tossing the towel around my neck to the floor, he dropped little kisses all across my shoulders.
“Tell me how this plays out in your fantasies.”
“You. Me. You in me.” My voice took on a frustrated edge. I hated that I was nervous. Part of me simply wanted the first time over with because I was sure this was something that got better with practice. “Not sure I have a script beyond that.”
“Very well. I’ll endeavor to improvise the part.” Ever the star, Alexander laughed, and I did as well.
And then we were kissing. As soon as our lips met, my nerves started to calm. This was Alexander. We were friends. We could laugh together. Whatever happened would be fine, and we had days left for practice. I chuckled then because Alexander hated the wordpracticeas ballet dancers rehearsed rather than practiced choreography.
My ability to think of jokes quickly fled as one kiss turned into endless kisses as he tumbled me back against the pillows. It had barely been a week, but already, his kiss was familiar and comforting. I lost myself in the embrace. We’d landed on our sides, which was delicious, but I wanted to feel his weight on me. I tugged at his shoulders. Bracing himself on one arm, Alexander loomed over me, trailing his thumb down my jaw.
I smiled up at him, and his expression softened.
“I do love it when you smile.” He tapped the corners of my mouth. “Dimples. Get me every time.”
Loving my smile was several steps removed from loving me, but I preened nonetheless and pulled him in for another kiss. He was hard against me, and the rolling around had largely dislodged my towel. His silky briefs dragged against my bare skin, and I moaned.
“I’m ready.” Suddenly more impatient than nervous, I reached for the nightstand where I’d stowed the condoms I’d purchased earlier in the week next to my favorite brand of lube.
“I’m not.” Alexander plucked the supplies from my grasp and set them aside before kissing his way from my mouth to my neck to my chest, a meandering trail of warm lips and devilishtongue. We’d fooled around enough this week that I should have been used to how Alexander could make me shiver from even the lightest touch. He blew across one nipple, ruffling my light smattering of chest hair. Goose bumps promptly broke out on both my arms. He chuckled. “Ticklish?”
“Only with you.” I arched up, trying to invite more attention from his mouth. He obliged nicely, licking my nipple, then wickedly nipping at it until I gasped. “More.”
He moved to the other nipple while twiddling the first with his fingers. My cock pulsed, a bead of clear fluid appearing on the tip as it jutted away from my stomach, even more eager than my nipples for Alexander’s attention. My body tensed as he licked my sternum, fingers on both nipples as he made his way south. I had rather impressive stamina for giving him oral and very little at all for anything involving his hand or mouth on me. The novelty of having someone else touching me had yet to wear off.
Accordingly, I had to plot the color coding of my next fundraising spreadsheet when he licked at the precome, delicate swipes of his pink tongue. Eyes sparkling merrily, he planted kisses on either side of my cock next, making my hip bones tingle. He scooted lower, tracing the crease between my hip and thigh, tongue gliding across my balls.
“Oh wow.” I managed another gasp.
“I’ve hardly done anything yet,” he chided.
“I like it all.”
“I know.” Laughing, he kissed me there again, more deliberately this time. “You’re amazingly easy to please.”
He dipped his head even lower, pushing my legs back. I wanted to object that I lacked his flexibility, but I lost the ability to do anything other than make incoherent noises while he teased me with his tongue.
“Good?” He nipped at my thigh, giving me a momentary break from sensory overload.
“Very good.” I sucked in a breath as he traced my rim with his index finger. “I like your touch better than mine already.”
“That’s a pretty low bar.” He shook his head, silky blond strands dragging against my skin. “Let’s see if we can raise it.”
“You’re certainly raising something,” I joked as he reached for the lube.
After slicking his fingers, he returned to teasing my rim. His explorations had a cautious vibe, unlike his usually rather aggressive kissing and touching. I much preferred him assertive, so I rocked upward to meet his fingers, trying to convey how much I liked this. However, I didn’t need to exaggerate my moan as he pressed in. A low, needy groan rumbled out of me.
“You weren’t kidding about liking this sort of play.” Raising his head toward me, some of his confidence returned to his voice.
“Trust me.” Our gazes met, and something deeper passed between us, an understanding of sorts.
