Page 44 of Bloody Tainted Lies

“How long do you have until class starts?”

“An hour. Why?”Because I want to fucking ravish you.I want to devour you, make you forget everyone but me.

“Let me show you how I have fun?”

“There’s no Vodka here,” she muses. “Or a playground.” I chuckle as I pull up to the school, looking for the building she’s supposed to go to. “Where are we going?”

“Wherever you need to go,” I tell her.

“Over there.” She points at a large building that looks like where you see the recitals at school and the choir concerts.

I nod, heading there, and park right outside the doors. The lot is empty, and I look at her. “Is it completely empty?” I ask her, leaning over and biting her earlobe softly, making her shiver.

“Should be…”

Good enough.

I get out of the car, grab my backpack, and go around to let her out, too, and then we both walk into the building together. It’s immaculate in here, with shiny and large square tiles that look like marble but are not. There’s a grand piano in a corner, and it’s so quiet you could hear people breathing if there was someone in the building.

She walks ahead of me, going to a classroom and dumping her stuff on the floor, then grabs her slippers out of the bag. She sits and lifts her sweatpants up, lacing her slippers and then standing.

“Show me how you dance, princess.”

“Not here,” she says with a shake of her head. I look around the cramped space. Yeah, this will not do. “Follow me.”

“Anywhere,” I murmur, and she looks at me with an open mouth but doesn’t say anything.

Camilla leads me to a room with a stage and a lot of seats. I’m talking probably a thousand burgundy leather chairs at least, endless rows that go to the top where you can’t see anything down here.

There are steps that lead up to the stage, and she gets on it. I follow closely behind, and she begins to take off her sweatpants. She’s not wearing a leotard, just a crop top and a thong now with her slippers, which she slides down her legs and throws them on the ground. Same for her top.

She’s completely naked.

“What are you doing, my little ballerina?” I ask her with a grin as she gets into a position with her arms in the air. “Are you going to dance for me?”

“I’m going to show you how I like to spend my time.”

And I’ll show her how I like to spend mine, soon.

She glides gracefully across the stage then stands still. “This is calledGrand Adage,” she says with a French accent as she begins to move a leg forward, backward, and to the side while standing on one leg. Her balance is effortless, and I can see her toned abs working as she engages her core.

“Beautiful,” I tell her in a soft voice full of awe.

I take my backpack off my shoulder and retrieve my camera from inside it. Her back faces me as she gets into a position where she’s about to spin, as I take the picture.

She begins to spin and then throws a leg to the side, working hard to keep going; she does it ten times in a row. “That’s called afouetté.”

Camilla then does this little walk that looks like a skip and does the splits in the air, spinning around to land the opposite way. She’s close to me now and doesn’t stop walking until she’s in front of me. I hold out a hand, and she takes it and then holds it above her head. I grab it gently as she begins to spin in place, then after about five turns, I pull her towards me by the waist, her leg mid-air, until we’re flush with each other. She gets off her tip-toe as I grab her thigh with my free hand and wrap it around my side, hiking it up even more.

The bright lights momentarily blind me, but I don’t take my eyes off her face, nor does she. I look into her hazel eyes, green mixed with orange and blue, and her breathing turns a little ragged. She likes me, I can tell, and although this was my game all along, it just feels wrong now. This is genuine from both sides. I want her back; Ireallywant her.

My hand trails up her thigh and all the way to her waist. She lets her leg down, now standing on her own two feet. I grab her waist with one hand, and tug her chin up with the fingers of my other hand, leaning in until our lips are almost touching. Camilla stands on her tiptoes, getting even closer and holding on to the back of my neck, her lips lightly brushing against mine and sending electricity coursing through my body, my veins, my entire being.

I lick my lips, my tongue brushing hers lightly, and she gasps. My nose touches hers and we just stand, looking into each other’s eyes as our breaths mingle. Neither of us makes a move; it’s like she’s waiting for me, and I’m waiting for her. “Are you going to kiss me,solnyshko?” I say against her lips, and one side of hers kicks up into a smirk.

She’s trouble.

“Kiss my cunt instead,” she says with her breathy little voice, and my cock begins to throb. I push her against my erection, the bulge in my jeans about to bust through the seams, and I cup her from behind. Camilla grins at that, jumping and wrapping her legs around my waist. “Is that a yes?” The little minx asks me.

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