روايات وقصص ضمن Ao No Waltz

"Don't step on my feet, wolf." Aradaa’s voice was a shaky whisper. He gripped Kaelor’s shoulder. Hard. The fabric was fine silk, silver-threaded, a gift from the City of Muses. It was too soft for Kaelor’s rough hands. "I'm trying." Kaelor’s hand found Aradaa’s waist. Large. Hot. Stable. "This music... it's too slow." "It's a waltz." Aradaa leaned in. The scent of jasmine and woodsmoke hit him. "Try to keep up."

He guided her down the last few steps, his hand sliding down to grip the small of her back, the heat of his palm seeping through the heavy velvet of her dress. "We dance," Nikolai commanded quietly as the orchestra began a slow, sweeping waltz. "We give them the show, and then we face the old man." "As you wish, Mr. Ravenhart," Thalia said, stepping into his arms. The moment his hand clasped hers and his arm wound tightly around her waist, a jolt of pure electricity snapped between them. Nikolai pulled her flush against his chest, his movements aggressive, forcing her to follow his lead.

Blaze exclaimed extremely happy. Quickly she located Fabien’s stereo system and shoved the first disk she found into the tray. As the ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum’ from ‘The Nutcracker’ poured into the room, she danced toward Margot and held out her hands. Her excitement faltered as Margot simply sat staring at her. Then, slowly, Margot lifted her hands toward Blaze’s and allowed Blaze to pull her to her feet. Blaze stepped from side to side, encouraging Margot to copy her.

Without a word, he led me onto the dance floor, positioning one hand at my waist while I rested my other lightly on his shoulder. The musicians struck the first notes. A perfect waltz. That was what the court expected. Axel guided me through the steps effortlessly, our movements synchronized. The fabric of my gown brushed against the polished floor, my silver skirts swirling as he spun me in time with the melody. From the outside, we must have appeared flawless. Regal. Harmonious. But the distance between us was as stark as a blade's edge. "You don't have to pretend to enjoy this," I murmured, my lips barely moving. I forced a small, practiced smile for the sake of those watching.

The girl has not yet made her way to the pole. The girl at the chair makes her way down the stage and pulls Ant by his shirt onto the stage. She sits him down on the chair and begins to give him a lap dance. She starts by grinding her ass into his crotch. Then she turns around, wrapping her legs around his waist and rubbing her pussy against his raging hard-on. She is circling him, kissing him on his neck, and raking her nails down his chest. At times she is riding his legs, rubbing her pussy against him.

A different one, older, that must have lived in this room and been uncovered along with everything else. She looked back at him. He was watching her with his hands at his sides now, his weight slightly forward, the posture of a man waiting to begin something he'd decided to begin. "The waltz at Harrington's is traditional," he said. "Three-four time. Slower than you'd think, but the hold is formal and the footwork is visible. If we're not — if it looks rehearsed in the wrong way, they'll see it." "So we need to look natural."

B͟l͟a͟k͟e͟ “You’re stepping on my toes,” Winter hisses at me. I’m not. I know I’m not but I’m not sure if she actually thinks that I am or if she’s actually messing with me. We’re currently in this embrace, a traditional waltz position; her hand on my shoulder, mine resting on her waist and our free hands clasped. We’re surrounded by different couples of all ages, all trying to learn the graceful movements of a perfectly performed waltz.

In Mary's eyes, there were too many women in the world and she was sure that she would be able to find one who was better than Hazel. The women all around the room gazed at Walt with eagerness and anticipation, hoping that they would be chosen to dance with him. Walt walked around slowly, shifting his gaze towards the women around him, when his eyes finally fell on a sweet and gentle woman. She was the daughter of a high-ranking official. The woman looked up straight into his eyes, and she immediately blushed. Walt walked towards her and gracefully reached out his hand. The woman smiled and took his hand. Everyone else found themselves a suitable partner and followed them into the dance floo

“They are idiots. We’re better off not thinking about them for the rest of the night. Think we can do that?” “Yeah.” I smile. “We can.” “You going to finish that?” He nudges my glass. And I shake my head in the negative. I end up passing it over to Vincent, along with my clutch. He doesn’t mind holding on to my items. I let Aiden walk me into the middle of the dance floor. He takes my waist and eases me into a waltz. There are other couples dancing around us, all lost in one another. Here on the dance floor, the snow drops are heavier. They disappear before touching our heads. And they fall so rapidly, giving the illusion of a cloud.

"You aren't going to war, Raven. You’re supposed to be floating. Think of a swan." "A swan that's been shot in the wing?" I suggested, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. "Or maybe a drunk duck? Because that’s the best I can offer on short notice." "It’s a waltz, not a mountain climb," she groaned, grabbing my waist to reset me. "Just follow my lead. Don't think, just move." "That’s how people get hurt," I muttered. We tried again. I focused on the rhythm she was humming, trying to make my heavy boots feel like silk slippers. For three glorious seconds, I actually felt like I was doing it. I was turning, I was gliding, I was—