One Last Dance (12 page)

She felt the hot, silken length
of his cock brush her belly and breathed out a soft sigh. She grasped his
waist, pulling him close to her as he rocked his hips against her pelvis. She
whimpered and arched against him, her sex still responsive to him.

“Hush,
dolce ragazza
.
Trust me.”

Did she? Sophie pressed her mouth
to his, breathing his breath, and nodded. He urged her arms up, around his
neck. The wiry hair on his chest chafed her tender nipples as he nudged her
knees onto his hips. “Hold on to me,
dolce
.”

Henry cupped her head in one hand
and her hip in the other and rolled, swapping their places. She squeaked in
surprise at the sudden shift. He laughed softly, but the sound dissolved into a
groan as her sweat slick body rested against him, trapping the stiff length of
his cock between them.

Henry cupped her buttocks in his
big hands, encouraging her to grind herself along his rigid shaft. She rocked
against him, the smooth, slick head of his cock prodding her sensitive clit and
igniting a blaze of pleasure in her belly.

His voice was smoky. “Yes,
dolce
.”
His breath was hot in her ear. “Rub your sweet little pussy on me.”

He nipped her shoulder and
collarbone, holding her body flush against his as she writhed and moaned. Warmth
pulsed in her slick sex and suddenly she felt herself on the trembling edge of
yet another orgasm. She gasped in surprise. As if he knew, Henry pressed his
fingers into the base of her spine, rubbing in lazy circles. Her pleasure
didn’t diminish at all, but the imminent orgasm receded, leaving her trembling
and panting as she lay tense on top of him.

Her breathing slowed the
slightest bit. Henry, seemingly attuned to her slightest sigh, lifted her hips.
He spread his legs, nudging hers farther apart, and lined the head of his cock
up with her slick entrance. His dark eyes met and held her gaze as he pushed
upward, sliding the hot, hard ridge of his flesh into her inch by slow inch.

The satin smooth head of his cock
parted her wet folds, stretching her snug walls in tiny increments. The feeling
was excruciating and exquisite. “Henry, please!” He liked to drive her to that
edge of desperation and hear her plead. If that’s what he wanted, she was happy
to give it to him, so long as he gave her what she wanted too.

When the last several inches of
his stiff shaft slipped inside her and he was seated to the hilt, Sophie
moaned.

“Look at me,
dolce
.” His
lips brushed along her jaw. She raised her eyes to his and he caught her mouth
in a tender kiss, tongue dancing delicately over hers, as he began to move
inside her. He drew the hard length of himself out of her wet folds until the
head rested just within the opening of her sopping pussy, and then pressed back
inside her in that same leisurely glide. “You are so beautiful, Sophie,” he
murmured against her mouth. “Seeing you like this, eyes soft with desire,
cheeks flushed with pleasure, mouth swollen from my kiss while you ride my
cock. I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”

She groaned, lids fluttering. The
only thing that had ever made her feel so alive was dancing, but she hadn’t
felt that way since her injury and Christian’s rejection. Not until now. She
felt aware of every thrumming cell of her body as he moved within her.

“Please, Henry. I don’t know how
much more I can take.” Lying so still on him while he controlled the movement
was driving her mad. The pleasure was growing impossibly high within her,
vibrating through her and threatening to shatter at any moment.

He rotated his hips, curling them
upward as he pressed her down onto his hard length. “You want to come,
dolce
?”

“Yes! Whatever I want, you said.”
Her fingers curved into his shoulders like talons.

“I can’t go back on a promise,”
he grunted as he rolled again, a half turn this time, stopping when they lay on
their sides.

Sophie whined as Henry slid out
of her, his cock flushed with blood and glistening with their combined juices.
He climbed to his knees and drew up her left leg to enter her, resting her
slender ankle on his shoulder.

She laid her head on her bent arm
but kept her gaze on his chiseled face as he pumped into her. “Harder!” she
pleaded as her left hand trailed along the curve of her breasts. A guttural
groan escaped his mouth as she rolled each hard nipple between her slender
fingers.

He turned his head to press his
mouth to her ankle as he plunged his cock into her, moving faster as she
continued to touch herself. She moaned with aching need as his broad thumb
dipped below her navel to strum across the turgid button of her clit. “So beautiful,
dolce
. Come for me again. One more time.”

He rubbed small circles around
her clit and she clenched with desire. As Henry swiveled his hips on his next
thrust she finally broke into an orgasm that radiated from her core. “God,
Henry!” she cried out as she exploded into a sharp pleasure, unable to contain
herself. The force of her second orgasm was like a detonation.

Her body clamped down hard on his
cock, rippling along the rigid shaft with powerful spasms of her inner muscles.
Henry grunted, plunging himself deep into her clutching sheath. “Dio!” The
muscle in his jaw jumped as he gritted his teeth. He inhaled sharply. “
Bella
raggazza! Io vengo!
”

She didn’t know what it meant,
but Sophie could feel the pulse of his cock inside her, the heated gush of his
seed. The rush of warmth and the twitch of his hard flesh added a new dimension
to her own pleasure. She squeezed him with her inner muscles, milking the
throbbing length of his shaft.

He thrust into her tightness
once, twice, three more times before pressing himself as deep as he could. He
stayed that way, chest heaving, as he stared down into her eyes. She smiled up
at him, feeling sated and full to the brim with sweet languor. She saw a brief
flicker of surprise in the soft black depths of his gaze before he returned her
slow smile with one of his own.

She lowered her leg from his
shoulder, reaching for his left hand with hers, and drew him down beside her.
They lay face to face, eye to eye, not speaking. Not needing to speak. She
tangled her calves with his and draped her arm over his still heaving ribcage.
Henry moved only briefly to fling away the damp green coverlet and tug the
cool, clean white sheet up over them. Then he lay back down and pulled her
close, positioning her head beneath his chin and stroking her back. Tucked
against his throat as she was, every breath she took was redolent of Henry.

As her eyes drifted shut and
sleep covered her like a blanket she thought she felt him press a brief kiss to
the top of her head. And had he murmured her name? Perhaps it was just a sigh.
She tried to speak his name in return, but all that came out was a low hum of
satisfaction.

After a morning of breakfast and
chit-chat, Henry told Sophie he wanted to show her something. Once she was dressed
in yet another gift of new clothes, she got into his Maybach and they drove to
a construction site in TriBeCa. It was an unfinished skyscraper.

“You wanted to show me an empty
building?” she asked, as they pulled up to the site.

“You wanted to know what I do.
I’m going to show you.”

They made their way inside to the
elevator. Much like the elevator in Henry’s building, this one moved swiftly
and soundlessly. It was a little disconcerting when she felt the jolt in her
feet that meant they’d reached their floor.

She gasped as he led her into a
wide foyer. The walls were unpainted and the light fixtures were missing.
Halfway down the wall on her left was a single door, and Henry led her in that
direction. “These will be high-end condos when the building is completed. There
will be a courtyard downstairs, a gym with a pool, a bar. But for now it’s all
just steel, sheetrock and wires.”

Of course, when she crossed the
threshold, sheetrock and wires were not the first things she noticed. It was
the wall of windows that took her breath away. She could see the morning
sunlight sparkling off the water of the Hudson.

“Henry, it’s lovely.” It was, and
yet...

“It’s
vacant
,” he said. He
shoved a hand through his hair. “This is just one of them. All over the country,
all over the world. Empty buildings. Medina Properties buys them, builds them,
and most of all, sells them. It’s someone else’s job to make sure they’re
occupied, though. My job is done before a single person lives in the spaces I
create.”

He swept his hand at the bare
room. A muscle twitched beside his eyes, so dark with some unnameable distress
that they were black all through. Sophie wanted to smooth the muscle with her
fingers, but Henry’s face was too dark at the moment. She settled for gently
touching his arm. “But when it’s done it will fill with people. This will be
someone’s home. Like the one Wayne and Darren are making in your other
building.”

His lips curved upward. “It was a
nice change to get to see that part of it. The people who were going to live
there. Normally, I don’t.”

Sophie slid her arms around his
waist and leaned into him, resting her cheek on his chest. “That’s why you
don’t like to talk about what you do?”

He still held the canvas tote in
one hand, but he curved the other around her back. “It’s a pretty empty job. I
travel around and look at empty buildings. Sometimes they’re just frames.
Skeletons. It’s like I handle the dead. Would you talk about it?”

“Gah,” she shivered. “That’s a
morbid way to look at it.”

“It’s how it feels.”

She stretched up on tiptoe to
brush her mouth over his. His lips still tasted faintly of the strong coffee
they’d had with breakfast. “Well, this one isn’t vacant at the moment.”

Henry set down the bag he’d
brought with and cupped her face between his big hands. His eyes roved her
features as if he were memorizing them. “When I saw you in Buenos Aires I was
struck by the life, the passion in you. And when I saw you again through your
studio window I saw you still had it, and you have it now.”

Sophie bit her lip. His words
were low and soft, full of meaning. When his mouth covered hers, she took it as
an apology.

The kiss heated, as it always did
when their lips touched. Their tongues caressed more boldly and each of them
began to stroke questing hands over the other. Sophie trembled against him.

She gasped in surprise when Henry
drew away to reach into the bag he’d carried with them. He drew out a portable
sound dock and his iPod, set them up deftly, and hit play.

As the music began to pour from
the small speakers, Henry straightened and offered his hand. “Dance with me.”

Before she even thought about it,
she was sliding her palm into his. Henry drew her close. Her belly pressed to
his hip, her breasts to his broad, hard chest. One of his muscled thighs slid
between hers. Looking up into his smoldering gaze, their lips were mere inches
apart.

He began to move them slowly
through a simple eight-count, without embellishment, until they fell into a
rhythm. Staring into the dark depths of his eyes, she paid only the most
minimal attention to the movement of her feet. These steps were second nature
to her, and with Henry they seemed even more natural.

She inhaled sharply as he swept
her right foot and then urged her into some backward ochos. He tilted her into
a side volcado as she swung her right leg into a back boleo and then forward
enganche. He lifted her then, dragging the toe of her shoe across the dusty
wood floor as he moved several quick steps backward. When he released his hold,
Sophie slid down his body. His thigh pressed against the sensitive mound of her
pussy.

He slid around her in a media
luna, the frame of his embrace strong as he turned her to face him. The
dazzling view spun in Sophie’s peripheral vision. It wasn’t nearly as gorgeous
as the sight of Henry’s face. Passion chiseled his handsome features into
something so potent and sharp it cut her straight to the quick. Desire ran
through her veins every bit as much as blood.

The song ended abruptly, as lost
as they were in each other. His breath was certainly more ragged than the
simple dance called for. He lowered his head, and Sophie met him halfway, lips
moist and parted. The glide of his tongue against hers was like the dance,
simple and sensual and heart-pounding.

It went on for a long time, deep
and sweet. Shivers of sensation cascaded over her skin, and her pussy pulsed in
time with her heart. Sophie felt wet and ripe between her legs. She clung to
him as he raised his head. “How about some wine?”

She blinked, dazed. “Henry, it’s
ten in the morning.”

“Call it an early lunch.” He sat,
stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles as he unpacked several
containers from the bag. There was fruit, cheese and a bottle of wine. He had
prepared all this while she was getting ready. Sophie relented, sprawling in
the warm sunlight pouring through the windows.

She closed her eyes, leaned back
on her hands, and turned her face up to it as Henry used a corkscrew to pop the
bottle of wine open. She heard the glug as he poured them each a glass of red
wine. The scent of spice, chocolate, and ripe blackberries wafted up to her
nose, mingling with the light smell of plaster and dust.

The wood floor beneath the
blanket was warm from the sun. Sophie could feel it seeping through the thin,
soft fabric under her fingers. Something cold touched her lips. She jumped,
eyes flying open. Henry grinned at her, holding a chilled raspberry up for her.
She smiled and opened her mouth so he could place the tart, sweet berry on her
tongue.

“Mmm.” She licked her lips. “I
think raspberries are my favorite berry.”

Henry tossed a blueberry into his
mouth. “Really? I think most people would say strawberry.”

“Is that your favorite?” Sophie
sipped her wine. Henry cocked his head.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever
thought about it before.”

Sophie picked one each of the
blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries spread out on the blanket in their
respective containers. “Let’s do a taste test. Open up.”

Henry obliged. She popped the
blueberry in first, and then, after he had chewed and swallowed, the
strawberry. And then his lips were pressed against hers.

His tongue pressed up against her
mouth, seeking entrance. He explored her cheeks and the line of her teeth, even
slid along her soft palate before coiling around her tongue and sucking gently.

When he drew back, Sophie was
panting. He licked his own lips. “No, you’re right. Raspberry is the best.” She
held up her hand, now covered in the juices of the berry he had neglected to
taste. “Any napkins in that bag?”

He shook his head, turned her hand
palm up, and lowered his head. She realized his intent a moment before his
tongue came out to slide across her palm, lapping the berry pulp from her hand.
One by one, he sucked each juice covered digit into his warm mouth and gently
licked it clean.

Sophie’s breath stuttered out of
her. Each caress of his tongue, each time his lips slid along her skin, she
remembered the sensation elsewhere on her body.

“Henry,” she moaned.

When her hand was clean, he
trailed his mouth up to her wrist all the way to her neck.  His left arm
pressed along her right, the soft hair of his forearm rubbing deliciously
against her skin. The heavy silk of his hair brushed her throat.

He released her arm and reached
for the wide strap of the dress, dragging it down to her elbow, along with the
bra strap beneath. His mouth slid across her collarbone, teeth scraping gently
as he lowered his head to run his tongue over the upper curve of her left
breast, bared nearly to the stiff peak of her nipple. He tugged the bra and
dress down further, trapping her arm against her side but uncovering her breast
completely.

Confined as she was by the dress,
she could only just brush her fingertips along the side of his face. The slight
rasp of his stubble against her sensitive fingers made her shiver.

“Oh, god,” she murmured brokenly,
arching her back to press herself closer to his touch.

Henry’s shoulders heaved with his
own ragged breaths, and his tongue plunged into her mouth. He had begun
playfully and sensually, but this had become something else. There was an edge
of intensity in his kisses and caresses now. His practiced touch was rougher
and more insistent.

She cried out into his mouth as
his right hand snaked beneath the skirt of her dress. His thick fingers brushed
across her aching mound, briefly cupping her through the wet lace of her
panties. Sophie rolled her hips, pressing her pussy into his palm.

He squeezed her ripe flesh,
drawing a gasp from her lips. “Dio! Sophie, I have to...” His fingers curled
around the thin strap of her panties, twisting the delicate fabric. She cried
out as the material bit into her skin, tightening over her slick sex. The small
pain only lasted a moment as the flimsy cloth gave way and he ripped it aside.

The rough drag of the lace over
her engorged clit was a burst of pain and pleasure that had Sophie writhing
beneath him. Her fingers grazed his t-shirt and curled into the soft cotton,
pulling him to her. The purr of his zipper was loud in the bright, empty room.

“Henry, yes! Please!” Sophie was
turned on beyond belief by his passionate assault. The need to feel him inside
her was all-consuming. She felt him hike her skirt up and brush the sleek head
of his cock between her slippery lips. Henry groaned, rubbing the wide crown up
and down her slick slit quickly before notching himself into place at her snug
entrance and plunging into her.

“Sophie!” he cried. “Dolce amore,
Dio, che me si bruciano!”

The words tumbled from his
tongue, meaningless to her. She didn’t care. What she cared about was the press
of the rock hard length of his flesh within her. She rocked her hips, sliding
her pussy along his rigid shaft. Henry moaned, hitching her legs up around his
waist. She locked her ankles together behind his back.

He fell upon her, mouth crushing
hers, tongue demanding against hers. The rough fabric of his jeans chafed her
thighs as he pistoned his hips. Sophie panted, undulating her body to meet his
every thrust.

She heard the muffled thunk of
glass hitting wood and realized one of them had knocked over her wine glass. It
would be spilling across the dusty floor. They should do something about it.
But the desire to stop Henry’s fevered pounding of her throbbing pussy was
non-existent. The wine could wait. Sophie could not.

“Henry! More! Harder!” Her cries
echoed back to her off the bare walls, ricocheting around the wide open space.

His hand left her breast, sliding
up to cup her cheek. With each powerful thrust, the base of his cock slapped
her highly sensitized clit. Wave after wave of heated pleasure rolled through her
body.

Sophie’s fingers were claws in
Henry’s t-shirt as she clung to him. He murmured unintelligible words against
her skin as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her buttock. She could
only pant his name, over and over. She licked at the salt of his skin, biting
the firm mound of flesh at the base of his thumb.

He grunted, burying the entire
length of his cock inside her clutching passage. She felt the twitch and spasm
of his flesh within her, the hot rush of his seed flowing inside her. It put her
over the edge. Sophie’s orgasm swamped her like a molten wave, sweeping all
other thought from her as her body seemed to melt with pleasure, everything
else incinerated beneath the heat of that moment.

They both stilled, remaining
joined for several minutes. She stroked her hands down his back, over the soft
cotton of his t-shirt. It was an odd sensation, being nearly naked beneath him
while he was still fully dressed.

“Well,” she breathed softly,
mouth curving into a smile as she scanned the room. The sunlight over Henry’s
shoulder was slightly lower in the sky, a little more golden. It warmed up the
stark space, painting the walls a burnished yellow. They’d spilled the
containers of cheese and fruit, scattering the blanket with reds, blacks,
blues, and creamy whites and yellows. “This place seems decidedly more lively
now.”

“It does, doesn’t it? I should
bring you along to all of the new buildings.”

“Oh!” Her eyes went wide,
remembering the sound of the falling wine glass. She glanced frantically to her
side. “The wine!”

The glass had tipped just near
her elbow. Most of the dark red spirit had soaked into the blanket, turning it
a deep purple. But some seeped out onto the floor.