Page 35 of Fatal Sloth

“Yes, really,” I tell her, my right hand slowly leaving her hip and tracing the line of her lifted leg on the barre. Goosebumps raise on her toned muscles underneath my fingertips. She leans into my touch, her body responding instinctively to my presence behind her.

Mia lowers her right leg and lifts her left in the same position. My gaze shifts from hers to her body, reflected in the mirror. It's then that I notice the subtle wetness between her legs, a clear sign of her arousal. A smirk tugs at my lips as I take in the sight, feeling desire stirring within me.

I take a step closer to her, letting her feel my hardness pressing against her. My head drops low to her ear, my breath skating across her skin. "But you lied," I tell her, my fingers tracing lightly over her exposed thighs. Damn, her skin is soft. Her body presses back into mine, and she lets out a soft moan. "I didn't lie," she protests, but her voice is shaky.

"No?" I ask, my hands roaming over every inch of her skin. "Then what's this?" I inquire, my fingers brushing over the wetness between her legs.I feel the heat emanating from her soaked pussy.

Leaning forward, I press her firmly against the unforgiving wood, ensuring her needy pussy rubs against the hard surface.

The tension in her body is unmistakable––her muscles tense with desire and anticipation.

"You're such a liar," I growl, my voice heavy with desire and accusation. A soft moan escapes her lips, confirming what I already know––she wants this.

Each thrust against the wooden barre deepens the flush on her cheeks, her embarrassment evident. She averts her gaze from the mirror, unable to meet my eyes.

My warm breath caresses her ear as I whisper, "Don't be embarrassed with me. Show me how badly you want it. Show me how badly you need to come."

Her cheeks flush even more, her eyes still avoiding mine in the mirror. But I refuse to let her hide from me.

Gripping her chin, I tilt her face to meet my gaze reflected in the mirror. Desire and frustration are swirling in those blues, almost like she’s silently begging me to let her come.

Her movements become more urgent, grinding against the barre in sync with my thrusts. Her desperation is evident. As her body trembles with anticipation, I sense her nearing the edge. With a swift motion, my hand slides between her thighs, pulling aside the fabric of her leotard to reveal her glistening pink pussy. A sensual moan escapes her plump lips, a raw expression of her intense craving for release.

I hold her thigh over the barre as she shamelessly continues rubbing herself against it, chasing the orgasm she desperately needs.

But just as she's on the brink of ecstasy, I stop, my arm holding her thigh up, denying her the climax she so desperately seeks. Her brows knit together in frustration as she shoots me a glare through the mirror, questioning why I've halted her pleasure.

"Liars don't get to come," I taunt, my words heavy with desire as I plunge my fingers into her wet cunt, relishing in the slick sensation. Coated in her juices, I bring them to my mouth, savoring her taste with a smirk. Her face is a mixture of frustration and desire, her lips parting in silent protest.

"Fuck, you taste delicious," I remark, my voice husky with arousal. "Maybe next time, don't lie, and I'll let you finish in my mouth." With a teasing grin, I guide my fingers back to her wet folds, collecting more of her essence before offering them to her lips. "See how delicious you taste?"

She moans around my fingers, her gaze locked on mine through the mirror, a silent apology evident in her eyes. "Please," she begs, the sound muffled by my fingers in her mouth. "Please let me come."

I chuckle darkly, withdrawing my fingers from her mouth and trailing them down her neck. "You want it that badly, huh?" I tease, enjoying the desperation reflected in her eyes. "Maybe I'll consider it... if you beg nicely."

Her frustration is evident in the way her eyes widen in disbelief. "Beg nicely," she parrots, “seriously?” she asks.

I chuckle at her reaction, finding amusement in the exchange. "No, not really," I mock, relishing in this power play. "I don't like being lied to," I add.

With that, I reach down and cover her tempting pussy, a subtle reminder of who's in control. Then, without another word, I grab her hand, lead her out of the gym, and make my way toward the dinner table. I can sense her annoyance, but there's something about her like this that I can't help but enjoy.

22

Mia

That was an unexpected event. My cheeks must resemble tomatoes right now. I can't believe I just let that happen. The way he made my body feel was unlike anything I'd experienced before. Dancing has always been my escape, the one thing where I let my guard down, and now I've done the same with Sebastiano. As we walk hand in hand to the dining room for dinner, I can feel the wetness between my legs, a reminder of our heated encounter.

The crimson hue spreads down my neck as we round the corner, and I hear Marie humming while setting trays of food on the table, stopping me in my tracks. My hand slips out of Sebastiano's, halting him as well.

"I can't go in there like this," I tell him, my voice doing very little to hide my embarrassment.

He looks me up and down, then gives me a cocky smirk when he notices my predicament. Without skipping a beat, he begins unbuttoning his black button-down shirt. "You can wear this," he says casually, popping open the last button.

"But... I still need to clean up a little," I protest, feeling the heat of embarrassment engulfing me.

"No, you don't. This is your punishment for lying, remember?" His words leave no room for argument, and I know deep down that he's right. Now, I stand here, watching him, clad in a black fitted undershirt that only accentuates his tattoo-covered muscular arms, adding to the dampness between my legs at the sight of him.

Knowing I won't win this argument, I pull his shirt on, which comes down to mid-thigh on me, and begin rolling up the sleeves that swallow my arms. But Sebastiano steps directly in front of me and starts buttoning the shirt himself. His scent overwhelms me, clouding my mind and making it feel a little foggy, like I can't think straight.

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