Indigo Bloome - Match Pointe

Shivers raced through Eloise from head to toe as his words resonated deep within her, and although she made a concerted effort to hide her reaction, it was without success.

A satisfied smile stretched across his lips as he noticed her muscles quiver at his words; her eyes remaining steadfastly fixed to one spot on the floor. His groin instantly reacted to the sexual tension between them.

It had caught him off guard that she was even more appealing in person than her photos had suggested. He loved her prim English accent, with the merest hint of Australian casualness to it. Her lithe body with her toned curves seemed to be begging to be stroked. The discipline she maintained over herself as she tried to rein in her reaction to him caused him no end of arousal.

She was perfect. And he worshipped perfection.

‘Do you think you can handle that?’

‘I hope I can always rise to a challenge, sir.’

‘Do you understand what I am saying?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I sensed as much.’ He paused thoughtfully, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. It was a rare experience for him to be so entranced by a woman. ‘I would expect your total honesty in all aspects of our relationship. Can you agree to that?’

‘I can, sir.

‘Excellent. Tell me about the relationship you had with Ivan, your previous Master.’

‘I danced for him, sir. Before every match he played, and sometimes afterwards.’

‘That’s it? Nothing else?’

‘Nothing else, sir, no.’

Stephan was astonished by this revelation. He found it almost impossible to believe any man could keep his hands off such a sexual delicacy. Perhaps the rumours floating round about Borisov’s sexuality were true …

‘And you were content with that, given the other conditions outlined in your contract?’

Stephan noticed the slight shift in her body language and the rose colour that flushed her cheeks before she answered.

‘Meeting his wishes made me content, sir.’

‘Answer me honestly, Eloise. What if he had wanted more?’

‘I would have given him more, sir,’ she replied simply and honestly.

Stephan ran his fingers through his thick, sculpted blond hair. He wasn’t used to the array of emotions his body was experiencing, wild and confused. He needed to take control of himself immediately.

‘Stand up for me.’

Eloise immediately stood from her seated position, her eyes still cast downwards.

‘Did you bring your ballet slippers today?’

‘They are always with me, sir.’ She pointed to her bag.

Stephan swore this woman’s actions had the potential to break him. Her submissive nature wound around his cock like a vice.

‘Good. I’d like you to dance for me, like you did for Ivan; I want to see what he saw. You can prepare in the bedroom.’

With a flick of his hand, he quickly dismissed her, lest she see the undeniable physical effect she had on him. He was pleased that he had organised for the furniture in the dining room to be shifted prior to her arrival so she could dance on the parquet flooring. He always liked to be prepared.

It was as though the music awakened his senses like never before as her disciplined and finely honed body moved gracefully in front of him. Stephan couldn’t take his eyes off her; she was mesmerising as she danced. He became as lost in her world as she was, a space that seemed far removed from reality, as though it existed in an entirely new stratosphere. After the last flutter of her pale arms had played out in the tips of her fingers, in perfect timing with the final note of Chopin, both of them were lost for words.

The female before Stephan blew his mind. So frail yet so strong, so fragile yet so athletic. Eloise remained in her demure position, face towards her pointed, slippered toes and eyes lowered, awaiting his next move. He gathered himself quickly, forcing his mind back into the here and now.

‘I can see why Ivan had you dance for him. Such beauty, such serenity …’

He gently stroked the line of her long neck as she remained in position, not having moved a muscle since completing her dance. She was entirely still except for her beating heart and the delicate rise and fall of her chest: something much easier said than done.

He allowed his fingers to follow the line of her shoulder and trace the length of her arm to her fingertips. She didn’t utter a word, nor did she encourage or dismiss his touch. Boldly, he lifted her fingers to his lips, slowly kissing their tips, his curiosity at her reaction to him ensuring that his eyes never left her face. The sharp intake of her breath was barely audible, but certainly noticed.

The slightest of smiles that reached both their lips confirmed that their relationship with each other would certainly be much more than ballet, and both silently acknowledged it would be far from chaste.

Eloise burnt in places that she had previously been able to subdue, to deny the existence of in her body. Her glow was as much internal as it was external, and her muscles pulsed with excitement as she thought of how her relationship with this tennis god might unfold.

He pulled her body against his muscled torso and she felt every inch of his six foot four inches of height. Her petite frame felt even smaller as she rested against his bulk and inhaled his crisp, fresh scent. He wrapped his arms around her, encasing her body, and bent down to feather light kisses on her long neck. The simultaneous dominance and softness of his action threatened her upright position.

‘You are simply exquisite,’ he whispered into her ear, his words far less commanding than when she’d arrived. ‘Where have you been all my life? I’m sure I must be dreaming. Tell me I’m not dreaming, Eloise. Please, put me out of my misery.’

‘You are not dreaming, sir.’ She sounded as breathless as she felt light-headed.

‘What am I to you?’

‘You are my Master.’

‘And you choose this, of your own free will?’

‘I do, sir.’

He paused for a moment, allowing her words to fully sink in to his consciousness.

‘Why?’ he asked.

For the first time, Stephan felt her tense beneath his touch. He observed her hesitation as he guided her back to the lounge and wrapped a throw around her shoulders, understanding the need for her to stay warm after such physical exertion.

‘Just like you, I need to understand what makes you tick if this is to work,’ he explained. ‘Talk to me …’

‘I need boundaries. I like discipline. I love to please.’ She didn’t make eye contact as she said the words.

‘I can understand that.’ He idly played with a strand of her hair that had fallen free from her tight bun. ‘Tell me more.’

‘You have my file, just as I have yours, sir.’

‘I want to hear it from your mouth.’ The words rolled off his tongue so sensually that she couldn’t imagine denying him anything.

‘The ballet gave me all of those things. All the details of my life were organised for me – what I ate, what I wore, where I went, what I did. I had focus, I had ability, they had control and I loved what I did. I had no social life, no life at all other than the ballet. When that stopped …’ She inadvertently rubbed her ankle … ‘I felt like I was in freefall. My life lost all its meaning and purpose.’

She raised her eyes to meet his and they locked for some time.

‘And your family?’

‘I have no family – only the ballet, since I was twelve, sir.’

‘I see. By the way, you don’t need to keep calling me sir,’ he said before continuing his inquisition. ‘Boyfriends?’

‘Not really, sir – oh, sorry,’ she corrected herself.