His Ballerina

“There’s a little additional building off to the side here.” He leads me to an attached structure that looks like it was put in after the original construction. “I wonder what’s inside.”

“No. Archer.” This is taking things too far; his hand wraps around the doorknob. “You can’t.”

“Oops. Looks like I did.” The door swings open to reveal…

“A dance studio?” I cross the threshold out of sheer curiosity. “Wow. This is incredible!” Three walls are completely mirrored from floor to ceiling. There’s a barre spanning one end of the room, a little sound system in one corner.

“I bet you could do plenty of dancing in here, huh? Is it everything you’d need?”

“It’s big enough, for sure.”

“So it’s what you need? I wasn’t sure how to set it up.”

Finally, his words sink in. I turn to him and find him grinning from ear to ear. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying it’s yours. The house, the studio. All of it. I bought the house for you. And once the security cameras are installed like I’ve scheduled, it’ll be even more secure than the apartment was.”

A house of my own.

It’s like my birthday and Christmas and the Fourth of July all at once. I launch myself into his arms, laughing. “I love it! I love you!”

His breath is warm against my neck. “I love you, precious one.”

Is this real? I can’t believe it. That he would go to all this trouble for me. I have to do something for him—he’s been so generous, so thoughtful, in-tune with everything I want and need.

“Hey. Does this sound system work?” I go over to it, pulling out my phone—the phone he bought me and helped me load all my favorite music on.

“Sure. Everything’s ready for you to use. What do you have in mind?”

I cue up a song on my playlist and hook the phone up to the system. “Just sit down, and you’ll see.” I point to one of the mirrored walls, where Archer sits with his back to the glass while watching me.

This is my dance studio. Mine. Where I’ll be able to wear my brand-new shoes. Where I can put into practice the things I’m learning in the classes, Archer encouraged me to take. “You’re my ballerina,” he whispered the night he suggested I enroll. “My ballerina needs to dance.”

I’ll dance now. I’ll dance just for him.

He smiles once I start moving to the soft, gentle music. I’m not warmed up, but my muscles wake up a little more with each movement, with each stretch, every time I extend my arms over my head. I test the space, doing Chaîné turns across the floor until I’m in front of him again.

“I love watching you dance,” he murmurs over the music. “It’s what you were born to do.”

The music changes to something harder. Heavier on the bass.

And my dancing changes with it.

I turn my back to him, dropping down in a crouch before slowly raising myself with my butt thrust in his direction. “What do you think about that?” I run a hand over my ass before slapping it. “Was I born to do that?”

“Looks that way to me. What’s gotten into you?”

“What do you think?” I spin on one foot, sliding my hands from my thighs over my hips, tugging my shirt up a little as I run them over my sides, then cross them over my breasts. I let them linger there, kneading gently, while my hips swing slowly from one side to the other in time with the beat of the music.

“I think I’m about to bust this zipper.” His eyes are darker as he watches me now, his mouth open slightly.

My hands slide back down over my body, stopping at my waistband long enough to unbutton my jeans. I turn, sticking my butt in the air while slowly lowering them to my ankles. I know my lacy white thong leaves nothing to the imagination.

“Fuck, baby.” I can see Archer reflected in the mirror across from me. He’s rubbing himself now, eyes locked on me. I kick off my flats and then the jeans, running my hands up the backs of my legs as I straighten up. “I should buy you a house every day.”

My shirt comes off as I turn back to him, and I toss it his way before tossing my bra at him, too. I can see myself reflected in the mirror behind him, and I like what I see. A woman comfortable in her skin, dancing for her man.

“Get over here. Right now.” His tone is firm, no-nonsense.

I drop to my knees and slowly crawl on all fours across the floor, eyes locked on his. Once I reach him, he extends his legs to either side of me, and I run my hands up their length before reaching his belt and opening it.