Page 92 of In Shadows We Dance

WREN

The studio issilent while I wait, reliving every moment of the day. Her rigid posture in my lap at lunch. The way my dick pressed against her ass. The heat of her pussy close to my fingers. The flush in her cheeks when whispers followed her through the halls. The way she fought against shrinking away from attention.

My pretty Ballerina is starting to shed that invisibility she’s been clinging to for so long. But it’s the defiance that makes today different. The spark in her eyes when she finally spoke back, the way she held her head high when I demanded it, despite her obvious desire to retreat.

She’s evolving into something beyond the ghost she used to be. And it’s fucking beautiful to watch.

That obsession Monty keeps talking about? He’s only seeing the surface. He has no idea how deep this goes.

How deep it’salwaysgoing to go.

Until she’s mine in every way that matters.

Every way that exists.

Every way she fears.

And every way she secretly wants.

I reach for my camera, anticipating what comes next. The mirrors are positioned perfectly, ready to catch every angle, leaving nowhere to hide. The blue dress I bought waits in my bag. She can take it as a promise … or a threat.

The door creaks open. I don’t turn, letting her take in the setup I’ve created.

“You came. I knew you would.”

“You didn’t give me much choice.” Her voice wavers slightly, but she’s here.

“There’s always a choice, Ballerina. You’re here because you want to know what I found. What secrets Daddy’s been keeping.” I turn slowly, drinking in the sight of her. She’s holding herself different from this morning. Less like she’s trying to disappear, more like she’s preparing for battle. “Or maybe you’re here because you can’t stay away from me.”

Her lips part, arms wrapping around herself. A defensive gesture that makes my blood burn hotter.

“Strip.”

She blinks, that delicious mix of fear and want crossing her face. “W-what?”

“You heard me.” I take a step closer. “If you want answers, you have to earn them. Take off your clothes.”

She hesitates, gaze darting to the mirrors, then back to me. Her conflict is clear. A little bit of fear, a little bit of resistance, battling with the knowledge that she’ll do what I want in the end.

“Ileana, you know how this ends. You already know you want to do it. You like how it makes you feel.”

She shakes her head.

I sigh, and pull a photograph from my pocket, holding it up for her to see. Her eyes widen when she recognizes it. A frozen moment of her, half-naked under a streetlight, her lips parted, her body caught in that perfect balance of fear and surrender.

“No one looks like this if they don’t like what’s happening to them.” I toss it to the floor and take out another. This one shows her against the side of my car, breasts visible, nipples hard.

“You shouldn’t be taking photographs of me like that.”

“You don’t stop me.” To prove my point, I pick up the camera from the floor and take a photograph of her, before pulling another one out of my pocket. I hand it to her.

She’s in my car, body stretched out, head thrown back, her legs parted with my fingers buried inside her pussy.

“You look so fucking pretty when you come.”

She swallows, eyes fixed to the image.

“You like it, don’t you? The way you look? The way I see you?”

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