Page 16 of The Recluse’s Obsession

Jared watches my every move, his lips parted as he pants lightly. I remember his command as the music gets livelier.

Nerves tumble through me as I execute the firstarabesquein front of him.

I hear him snatch in a breath and my face flames because despite two thin layers of cotton covering me, I feel his eyes righttherebetween my legs. Feel how slick I am already and my nipples harden further. I hold the position for twenty seconds, then continue dancing.

A fewchaînéI know look good because Mrs. Olsteen made me practice a thousand times before granting me the coveted nod of approval last week, and I connect to anotherarabesque.

I realize I’ve moved closer to Jared when his aftershave fills my nostrils. I breathe him in because the man smells amazing. I’m still holding the pose when he moves.

I can’t help myself. I turn my head and see him lowering his fly.

That wild and feral look is back as I watch him pull out his huge, erect cock. Utterly without shame, he meets my eyes as he strokes himself. A whimper leaves my throat before I can stop it.

This is the first time I’ve seen a real-life male member. I’m both utterly terrified and huge fascinated. I stare at it until a single drop of liquid pools at the top.

“I didn’t ask you to stop, little girl. More. Need more. Give me more!” he roars.

5

Jared

Fuck me, but she’s perfection itself.

I’m wild for her. Savage. A drooling beast.

The thought that this beautiful gem has been neglected and under-appreciated for so long enrages me.

I want to smash heads in for every sliver of loneliness she’s suffered, starting with that no-good bastard who calls himself her father.

To do that though, I’ll have to move. To look away from the enchanting sight before me. And I’d rip out my throat first before I miss a single nanosecond of this.

She does that twirling jump thing that stretches the cotton between her legs, and my dick pulses with need in my fist.

My sweet Skye is curvier than the average ballet dancer, with a perky ass and a gravity-defying set of tits I know will spill out of my hands. I’m more than okay with that.

I’ve been hard since she stepped out of her dressing room and I saw her in the tiny tank, white leggings andthat fucking tutu.

Christ, I wanted to devour her right then and there. How I’ve managed to keep from doing so beats the hell out of me.

I deserve a fucking medal for my restraint. But it’s hanging on by a thread.

She stops in front of me and does thepenchéfor the first time, one foot planted on the floor and the other pointed at the ceiling.

I lose my mind.

I drop to my knees and one arm jerks out like it’s possessed to grab her calf. She wobbles for a moment but stills. Her breathing is as erratic as mine as I drop back onto my haunches.

I bought a ballet instruction manual and learned all the terms the first time I saw her execute what amounts to an upright split. Then I tortured myself with imagining her doing this naked. Imagined pounding her pretty pink hole while she held herself like this for me.

My hand glides up and down her toned calf, and I delight in the small quivers that follow my caress.

“I know your current instructor is an old lady but did you ever have a male instructor?” I demand, my insides ablaze with hunger and feral possessiveness.

“N-no,” she replies.

“And did you ever dance with a male partner?”

“I…why?”

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