Page 94 of In Shadows We Dance

“No, you’re not.” I roll her nipple between my fingers. “You’ve spent so long trying not to be seen that you don’t even know how to look at yourself anymore.”

I drop one hand lower, over her stomach, feeling each shaky breath she takes. “But I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

Her eyes squeeze shut. I pinch one nipple hard enough to make her gasp.

“Open your eyes. Watch yourself.”

My hand moves lower, tracing the curve of her waist, down her thigh, and then over her pussy. She gasps, tries to squirm away, but I drop my other arm to wrap around her waist, and hold her still, my gaze fixed on her reflection.

“You can’t hide from me. Not your fear, not your shame, not your desire. I see it all. And I want you to see it too. I want you to see how completely you belong to me.”

I use one foot to force her legs apart, and use two fingers to open her pussy. She’s wet, that pretty pink flesh glistening.

“Look at that,” I whisper. “So beautiful. Sovisible. Touch yourself.”

“N-no.”

“Touch yourself, or I’ll call Monty in to do it.” I won’t. Monty will never get to touch her. But my threat does what I need it to. Her hand lifts, covers her pussy.

“Oh no, that won’t do, pretty Ballerina.” I bend my head to the crook of her neck, and kiss a path up to her jaw. “Use two fingers. Show me how you touch yourself when you lie in bed and think about me.”

“I d-don’t.”

“Liar.” My teeth sink into the soft skin covering her pulse.

She cries out, back arching.

“Fuck yourself. Show me that final dance you’ve kept from me.”

My hand moves, covering hers, and I guide it between her legs to her clit. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown, as I move our fingers together, pushing them in and out of her body, while my thumb strums over her clit.

“That’s what I want to see. Now you do it.” I drop my hand and take a step back, so I can find my camera.

The click echoes around the room. She flinches, but doesn’t stop stroking herself, doesn’t take her eyes off her reflection. I capture her in that moment—bare, trembling with need and fear.

“These moments are mine.” My lips brush over her shoulder, my fingers pinching her nipple. “Every gasp. Every shiver. Every time you can’t control yourself. I want it all. I want proof of how much you want this.”

The camera clicks again, capturing her flushed skin, her eyes glazed, her fingers buried into her pussy.

She looks fucking glorious.

“Look. Look at yourself. Look at what I do to you.” My free hand wraps around her throat, and I photograph the pair of us through the mirror.

“You’ll never get to hide from me. Not now. Not ever.” I pull her hand away, and replace it with my own, pushing two fingers inside her. “This belongs to me.” I take another photograph, and bite my way across her shoulder. “Do you want to come?”

She lets out a soft sob.

“I need words.”

“Please … yes.”

“Oh, pretty Ballerina. You haven’t earned that yet.” I pull my fingers free, and wipe them across her lips, before taking a step back. “Time to dance for me.”

The dress unfolds like silk, when I pull it out of the bag. Her sharp intake of breath is sweeter than any music.

“Put it on.”

She takes the dress, eyes dropping as she turns away. I pull her back to face me.

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