“I think I need more time,” she says briskly before slamming the door.
I stand in the ostentatious corridor with a huge fucking erection and blue balls and a heart that’s been through the shredder.
I get an idea and stride back to my penthouse. I tear apart my office and grab the folder with the contract she signed. Then I march back over to Sam’s and ring the doorbell like a maniac.
When she opens the door, her cheeks still flushed pink, she eyes me suspiciously. I open the folder and show her the management contract we both signed. Then I tear it in half in front of her. I keep tearing the thick son-of-a-bitch into smaller and smaller pieces that flutter to the carpet. A grin escapes her poker face and she reaches up her hand to cover it.
“I’m not in control. I might be a little controlling, Sam, you know me, but I’m not in control. I have no power over you or any of the decisions you make. Including what you put in your mouth.” My cock strains painfully as I say it.
“The truth is that I love you. I’m in love with you and I can’t function without you in my life. I’m going crazy being your neighbor and not having you in my bed at night. Or having Bronson partnering you and not being able to touch you. Tell me what you want from me and I promise to be that.” I’ve never groveled so hard, but Natayla is worth it.
She eyes my diamond tennis bracelet and I see her eyes brighten. She likes that I wear it. It makes me wonder if Natayla wants to play with control, too. If we share so many hungers, maybe she needs to feel the rush of having someone submit to her every once in a while.
“I’ve spent my whole life being someone else’s doll. I don’t want that anymore. I want to find out what it means to be my real self.”
I get it. I get it. I totally get it.
“I want to make my own decisions. Be my own person who decides what she wants to eat and when. I’m pretty empty, Dashiell. Even you said it. If I’m going to love myself. I have to figure out who I am.”
Her insight into her own psychology is already deeper than many ever go. But I respect the journey she wants to take, and I can step back if it inhibits her self-discovery.
But I cannot and will not give up this connection we have, so I fall to my knees in front of her and take both of her hands.
“Sam, I love you. I’ve loved you since the first day I met you. Just include me in your journey—that’s all I’m asking.”
“Will you let me be in control every once in a while?”
“Fuck yes. Whenever you want.”
“Will you teach me how to do that crazy-sexy choreography you’re teaching your hip-hop class?”
“Also one hundred percent yes.”
“Can I decide what you put in your mouth sometimes?”
My eyes pop up to meet hers and my heartbeat accelerates. “Fuck, yes.”
“Can I be on top and call the shots.”
“Please do.”
“Can I tie you up?”
“Might have to experiment, but…you know what? Do whatever the fuck you want. Yes.”
“Can I try a strap on and fuck you in the a—”
“Sam.” I stand and cover her mouth with my hand. Then I replace my hand with my mouth and kiss her with a passion that runs so deep I can feel it in my bones. We kiss until our lips burn, until our hearts ache, until we’re nearly delirious standing in a pile of torn-contract snow. But whatever the future holds, we’ll navigate the path we take together.
“I want Dumplings,” she says when we finally pause.
“Done.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Natayla
Rehearsal is brutal. I’m sore, sweating, and emotionally and physically exhausted. But what a difference nourishment makes because I’m not the least bit light-headed. On the contrary, I’m sharp as a tack despite the grueling run-through. I’ve got reserve energy in my cells and consequently, I’m able to focus on my style and technique, truly dance this piece instead of fighting for consciousness. It feels a lot like living in the moment, being present and appreciating dance in a way I hadn’t before. I’m dancing for myself, not as some desperate plea for attention and love. And I love to dance again. It now gives me that freedom I was always seeking.
Bronson is a fantastic partner, and we’ve gelled as a team. He’s so dynamic and strong, and when he lifts me as high as he does, it’s almost scary. But I trust him, and we’ve built this cool repertoire where we can communicate with our eyes or with his touch on the small of my back before a lift. But the best part is that I can dance this piece without watching Dash and Dahlia in a jealous rage that dampens my own experience.