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to finding out, his hands shook. “Do you always scream like that?”
    “Not every time.”
    She shook her head, which spread her luminous hair against the couch cushion. The gold gleamed. He’d always thought her pretty, even beautiful, but when she’d arrived from her parents’ house with bright blonde hair, not her usual dark brown or raven black, something had tripped over inside him. It was like meeting a whole new woman.
    “Only when it’s good,” she whispered. Her voice was quiet but not weak. That constant tingle of teasing made her stronger than she knew. “Only when I come so hard, it’s like I lose myself.”
    That was a challenge if he’d ever heard one. He knew the steps, knew what he wanted to achieve, knew where his body needed to be. At that moment, he needed to taste her pussy more than he needed to keep dancing.
    Dima stripped her panties. She let them go willingly, twisting her hips and laughing a little when he yanked them past her high heels.
    Luscious. A tiny track of carefully trimmed hair arrowed down to his prize, one greater than three world championships. Light from the street gleamed off her damp lips. He tucked the panties into the pocket of his track pants. He’d keep those. The scrap of lace could retire in good grace.
    “Come on, Dima. You know you want to.” Lizzie’s hand burrowed deep in his hair.
    The intimate touch was something he’d missed. When they were younger, they’d never thought anything of touching. Their entire livelihood depended on physical contact. Even on tour, they leaned on one another. Sometimes literally, like the time they’d fallen asleep in full costume, propped against the corridor wall leading from the dressing rooms to the dance floor, exhausted and waiting to go on.
    During the last six months, the space between them was a gulf, absent of touch. He missed it as much as he missed everything about her.
    He shook free of that painful lack. “Want to…?”
    “Lick me. Right where Paul’s huge cock fucked me.”
    His low growl came without warning. She pushed him and pushed him. Always. Again.
    Until he snapped.
    He locked his hand around her wrist, pinned her arm above her head. “You’re not in charge here, little one. Don’t make that mistake.”
    “No?” Her hips rose off his lap, but he held her still. “It didn’t feel like it earlier, when I straddled Paul right in front of you. I haven’t felt that kind of rush since we took home our last trophy.”
    “That was then.” He pressed her wrist more firmly against the padded armrest. “Now, I’m about to make you come so hard that I hear your scream without a door between us.”
    “Do you promise?”
    “I do.”
    If it took everything in him, hours of attention, he’d wring a scream from that beautiful mouth. It was everything he wanted, to inhale her satisfaction like the air he breathed.
    Her grin wavered. Not so bright. More…confused. “You’ve never broken a promise to me.”
    “I’m not about to start. Open for me, little one.”
    She parted her knees so that one brushed the back of the couch. Her wet lips bloomed open. Dima shuddered in tense anticipation. He delved a finger between them before tasting. Her essence exploded across his tongue in a burst of sweetness and spice.
    Wrapping his hands around her hips, he boosted Lizzie off his lap and pushed her up. Either surprise or long reflex kept her rigid, as if preparing for a lift. He positioned her just as he wished: half-sitting against the arm of the couch. He grabbed her knees and tugged. Her hips angled toward him. The swish of her skirt dropped back between her legs, but he flicked it away.
    Dima settled on his stomach, stretched along the couch. The upholstered softness offered no satisfaction when he pulsed his hard cock. Not enough resistance. Soon, but later.
    He didn’t start with small licks to warm them up. No point. That wasn’t what they wanted. Instead, he claimed her. All taking. All demanding.