He seemed to be a little drunk from watching. It was a pity that he didn’t know how to dance ballet, otherwise he would definitely join her steps. At this moment, dancing a ballroom dance would ruin this beauty. He still couldn’t restrain himself, grabbing her waist, taking a gliding step on one foot, holding her shoulder with one hand, and embracing her slender waist with the other, gradually bending down, lowering her incredibly soft waist very low, and finally deeply kissing her lips.
He swept her up in his arms. Her lace ballet dress hung down, and her bare, fair, and smooth legs also hung down obediently. She docilely let him hold her, as if holding a white swan, walking step by step up the stairs. She thought he would definitely carry her to the bedroom and put her on the bed, but he didn’t do that. He carried her and pushed open the door to the reception room, placing her on the large table, letting her sit on the table, while he sat in the black leather chair.
“In your country, in ancient times, there was a king who loved to watch women dance,” he curled his lips, smiling enchantingly. “This kind of dance is unusual, it is danced in the palm of a man’s hand.”
She gazed at him, understanding his meaning. Her dark eyes flickered, and she stood up on the table with some shyness, overcoming her fear of heights, standing there with her feet together. He looked closely at her slender and well-proportioned legs. He stroked her legs, his fingertips careful, as if holding a delicate glass vessel. His hand moved down her calf, stroking her satin ballet shoes. He brought two fingers together, found the end of the shoelace, and gently untied the bow that fastened the shoes, taking off her shoes for her. Her feet were released. He stroked her fair toes and the slightly arched instep.
Finally, he spread out his palm, facing upwards, flat on the table.
“Come, my angel, dance for me in my palm,” he invited her.
She tentatively stepped onto his palm. His palm was thick and flat, and a warm sensation came from the soles of her feet. She carefully observed his reaction, afraid that he would be hurt by her stepping on him. She began to slowly spin in his palm, not standing on her toes, but stepping on his palm, slowly turning in circles, like the ballerina in a music box.
In fact, his palm was very painful from her stepping on it. The small space was bearing the weight of her entire body. Although she was very light, all the weight was transmitted through the soles of her feet to his palm. He endured the pain, unwilling to interrupt her dance.
His hand gradually became numb, and his wrist was no longer obedient. He thought that perhaps after this time, he would not be able to clearly and freely sign his name on the reported documents within the next week. At that time, Jacob and the other adjutants would go crazy. However, he shouldn’t be thinking about work matters. The swan in his palm had finished a beautiful dance and was slightly spreading her wings, waiting for his evaluation.
“You are so beautiful, my angel,” he picked her up from the table, gently placing her flat on the table, letting her feet hang down, stroking her slender ankles back and forth with one hand. “Obviously, your ankle has recovered.” This was also why he had to rush to build a dance studio in this house.
She blinked her large black eyes, nodding gently, her fair neck trembling slightly, and her chest rising and falling in waves.
…
He wiped away the last tear from her cheek with his thumb, “Baby, did I hurt you?”
“No, no,” she bit her lip and said.
“You little thing, you always say the opposite. When you say no, no, you actually want it, right?” He had gradually learned to understand her logic.
She shook her head, then nodded, simply burying her head in his warm embrace, listening to his strong and powerful heartbeat. He kissed her forehead, patting her back indulgently, only to hear the person in his arms say, “Have you been very busy with work lately?”
“Yes, very busy…” He exhaled, opening his eyes. “What made you think of asking that?”
He saw her dark eyes gazing at him, her rose-colored lips slightly parted, asking somewhat seriously, “What kind of general are you? Which unit are you in? What are your usual duties?”
“Baby, we agreed not to ask about my work and also not to repeat what I tell you to anyone, including Miss Annabel and the servants,” he gently refused her.
“But they all know who you are, only I don’t know who this man who sleeps next to me every night is, what he does for a living. I only know that he is a general…” She lowered her eyes, something flickering in them.
“Don’t be like this, baby, what do you want to know?”
She hesitated for a moment, finally opening her mouth, “That day, I saw you on the TV in the hotel. You were following a man who was not tall and a little fat, to meet a man who was also not tall and had a beard…”
