Then faster.
Her hair whips behind her. It’s the kind of sight that would’ve destroyed me once. Now it just… completes me.
She finishes the sequence with a clean stop, breath shallow, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. And she doesn’t look away. Not once. Like she’s not embarrassed by being watched. Like she’s learned something in these last few days.
That being seen doesn’t have to mean being taken. That being wanted doesn’t mean being owned.
I take a step closer, my hands relaxed at my sides, even though everything in me is screaming to pull her into my arms.
“You’re getting it back,” I say quietly.
Her brows knit. “What?”
“Your fire,” I whisper. “Your body. Your strength.”
Her throat bobs, and for a second, she looks like she might break.
Then she lifts her chin. “No,” she corrects softly. “I never lost it. I just… buried it.”
My chest tightens so hard it almost hurts. “Yeah,” I murmur. “And look at you now.”
Her lips part, her eyes shining like she’s daring me to ruin her. My hands glide down her sides, stopping at her hips, my gaze flicking between her eyes and her mouth.
“Kiss me, Drago,” she breathes.
A low growl rips out of me, and my lips crash over hers. Possessive. Starving. My fingers thread into her hair as I back her into the barre, pinning her there like she belongs exactly where I want her.
My thigh nudges her legs apart, and my hand slides down her stomach, pushing her bodysuit to the side.
I don’t wait.
Two fingers sink inside her in one smooth thrust.
She moans against my mouth, her back arching, her body already trembling like she’s been ready for this since the moment I walked into the gym.
I dip my head and bite her neck, a brutal little claim. “Fuck,” I groan, the sound of her wetness filling the room, echoing off the walls like the whole place is listening. “This is so hot.”
“M-more,” she gasps. “Please, sir.”
I spin her to face the mirror, guiding her down until her hands grip the barre.
My palm glides up the back of her head, and I fist her hair at the roots, tugging just enough to make her look at me through the reflection.
Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes are blown wide. Her lips are open, wrecked already.
“You are gorgeous,” I tell her, voice rough. “So fucking gorgeous, baby.”
I undo the poppers at the bottom of her bodysuit, giving myself better access, and step back to position her the way I want her. “Ass back here,” I command, tapping her cheek once.
She shuffles obediently, angling herself perfectly, hands planted on the barre like she was made for it. She grins like she loves being told what to do. Like she trusts me enough to let go.
I keep my fist in her hair so I can lift her head, keep her eyes on the mirror. “Watch, lastochka,” I murmur, my mouth close to her ear. “I want you to see what I see.”
Her breath stutters.
“How beautiful you are when you come apart for me.” Another tug. “How perfect you are for me.”
My lips brush her skin, a slow kiss along her shoulder. “Mine.”
