Page 83 of Reclaim Me

“No, Sunshine,” I laugh. “That’s not a thing.” I pull back and stroke up into her again, watching her eyes roll back into her head. “You’re just not used to taking a dick this big anymore.”

“Oh my God,” she cries, her face scrunching up in a mix of pleasurable pain as I start up a smooth rhythm that causes the flared head of my dick to hit that spot deep inside her I suspect hasn’t been touched in years. She starts to move with me, meeting me thrust for thrust as we chase that feeling that’s uniquely ours. That drugging brand of ecstasy that only exists when I’m inside of her, and she’s wrapped around me, her walls rippling around me while my dick drives through her soaked channel until she succumbs to the inevitable.

Not just the pleasure of another orgasm, which I give her two more times before I let myself spill into her with long, hot spurts of cum that coat her walls, but the love that makes it possible. That makes it more powerful than anything we’ll ever share with anyone else.

29

RAE

Then

I’m not a person who gives in to their nerves easily. Being a ballerina doesn’t allow for it. When I walk onto a stage, I have to be perfect, and there’s no room for anxiety in perfection. There’s only mastery. There’s only certainty. There’s only me and the trust that I have, not just in my training but in myself.

Most days, I’m living, breathing confidence on the outside, and deep, deep down, underneath all of the reminders to be two times better than my white counterparts to get half as much, is the anxiety, the fear, the doubt.

But that’s most days.

Today, everything is upside down. The confidence of love is under layers of nerves and fear that have nothing to do with me leaving for New York tomorrow to start my career as a member of the American Ballet Theatre’s corps de ballet, and everything to do with my big brother’s narrowed eyes as they study my hand, which is clutched in Hunter’s.

Hunter, who is always fearless and certain about everything, is stone-faced as he looks at Will, determined to be strong for me even though this must be hard for him, too. Will isn’t just his sponsor—a source of support in his endeavor to stay clean—he’s also his friend. Right now, the longevity of that bond rests on the words that are about to come out of my brother’s mouth, and, judging by the frown marring his features, those words are not about to be good.

“Say something, Will,” I plead, my eyes shifting around the restaurant. It was my idea to break the news to him in public, using my going away dinner as a cover. I thought it would help amend his reaction, keeping him from saying or doing something stupid, like trying to tell us that we can’t do this because Hunter and I have already decided that we are.

It’s been two months of us sneaking around the house when Will is home and fucking all over it when he’s not, and while I thought it was time to come clean, I’m now thinking it would have been smarter to take this secret to the grave.

“Please,” I add, reaching over with my free hand to take his.

For a moment, I think he’s going to pull away, but he doesn’t. I let out a sigh of relief and squeeze his fingers, urging him to look at me. When he does, his face, which is slightly thinner than it was at the beginning of the summer, is filled with tension.

“How long?”

“Since my four-year mark,” Hunter says.

Will lifts a brow and lets out a low whistle. “Two months, which means I was only in the dark for one.”

My jaw drops, which causes Will to crack. His shoulders start to shake first, and then his face breaks out into his signature smile. I let go of his hand and punch him in the shoulder.

“You’re such an asshole!”

He clutches at his stomach, doubled over. “You two do know that I live in the same house as y’all, right? You know that I was at the meeting where Hunter held up a chip and said, ‘This is for everything we are and everything we’ll become’?”

Hunter grimaces at Will’s poor imitation of him, but he’s smiling. They’re both smiling, which makes me smile even if I am still pissed at Will for sending my heart to live in my stomach.

“I’m honestly surprised it took y’all this long to work this out,” Will is saying now, his face turning serious as he reaches for my hand again. “But I’m glad you did.”

My chest is warm with relief. “So you’re not mad?”

Will’s brows furrow. “Rae, you’re a grown woman. It’s not my job to dictate who you can or can’t be with, and as far as choices go, you could do a lot worse than this guy.”

“Gee, thanks,” Hunter says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Will grins at him, not at all bothered by his tone. “So what does this mean for New York?”

“Nothing has changed,” Hunter tells him, not even giving me the chance to answer because he knows I’ve gone back and forth about my decision to leave. I want ballet, but I want him too. I want what we’ve been building for the past four years, what we’ve found in each other in the last two months. It feels wrong to just abandon it now, to just abandon him.

But he won’t let me change my mind.

“I’m still leaving tomorrow,” I confirm, my stomach filled with equal parts excitement and dread. “We’re going to do long distance.”

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