Ballerina’s Confession：Seduced by My Twin Coaches - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
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The heat between my thighs had reached fever pitch when the villa's front door burst open.
My head snapped up.
There in the doorway stood a mountain of a man—six-three with a body that would make Adonis jealous, every muscle threatening to rip through his clothes. Even compared to Michael, he was bigger. More.
Michael's hands flew off me. "Warren. You're home early." That sickly sweet tone made my skin crawl.
Warren. His identical twin.
My eyes devoured him—same razor-sharp jawline, same hypnotic gaze. A filthy thought flashed: If those hands touched me, I'd never come up for air.
"Just giving Isabella her lesson," Michael offered smoothly.
Warren's stare zeroed in on my flushed face, the wetness glistening on my chin. Then lower.
"Why's the floor wet?"
I followed his gaze.
A small, damning puddle shimmered beneath me. Mortification burned through me.
Michael coughed. "Spilled something earlier."
"Did you now."
That smirk sent lightning straight to my core. I clenched my thighs, mumbling excuses before bolting.
The next session came faster than I was ready for.
Standing at Michael's door again, my stomach churned. Last time I'd almost crossed a line. But with swim championships looming, I was out of options.
"Professor!" I shoved a pastry box forward like a white flag.
The door swung open.
Michael stood there wearing nothing but skin-tight briefs that left exactly nothing to the imagination.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
"Swim lesson today?" His eyes crawled over my outfit—micro shorts and a crop top straining across my chest.
I nodded, heat flooding my neck under his inspection.
"Change in the guest room."
Inside, used condoms lay scattered like landmines, swollen with evidence. I scrambled into my bikini, every nerve ending buzzing.
When I returned, a second naked god dominated the living room—Warren, muscles rippling, his thick cock hanging heavy between powerful thighs.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
"Isabella," Michael crooned, groping my chest. "Your tits sag. At your age? Pathetic." His thumb circled a nipple. "A real dancer's body doesn't look like this. Lucky for you, I know ancient remedies."
My face burned. "W-what?"
"Strip. Let me correct you."
When I froze, his voice turned lethal. "Say no, and consider your training over."
Shaking, I dropped to my knees before him, bikini coming loose. His mouth sealed over me, teeth nipping as Warren looked on.
Then—something thick pressed against my lips.
Michael groaned. "That's my girl. Now hold still."
The throbbing between my legs was torture.
"Professor... I can't—"
His grip turned vicious. "You will. Or kiss your future goodbye."
My head snapped up.
There in the doorway stood a mountain of a man—six-three with a body that would make Adonis jealous, every muscle threatening to rip through his clothes. Even compared to Michael, he was bigger. More.
Michael's hands flew off me. "Warren. You're home early." That sickly sweet tone made my skin crawl.
Warren. His identical twin.
My eyes devoured him—same razor-sharp jawline, same hypnotic gaze. A filthy thought flashed: If those hands touched me, I'd never come up for air.
"Just giving Isabella her lesson," Michael offered smoothly.
Warren's stare zeroed in on my flushed face, the wetness glistening on my chin. Then lower.
"Why's the floor wet?"
I followed his gaze.
A small, damning puddle shimmered beneath me. Mortification burned through me.
Michael coughed. "Spilled something earlier."
"Did you now."
That smirk sent lightning straight to my core. I clenched my thighs, mumbling excuses before bolting.
The next session came faster than I was ready for.
Standing at Michael's door again, my stomach churned. Last time I'd almost crossed a line. But with swim championships looming, I was out of options.
"Professor!" I shoved a pastry box forward like a white flag.
The door swung open.
Michael stood there wearing nothing but skin-tight briefs that left exactly nothing to the imagination.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
"Swim lesson today?" His eyes crawled over my outfit—micro shorts and a crop top straining across my chest.
I nodded, heat flooding my neck under his inspection.
"Change in the guest room."
Inside, used condoms lay scattered like landmines, swollen with evidence. I scrambled into my bikini, every nerve ending buzzing.
When I returned, a second naked god dominated the living room—Warren, muscles rippling, his thick cock hanging heavy between powerful thighs.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
"Isabella," Michael crooned, groping my chest. "Your tits sag. At your age? Pathetic." His thumb circled a nipple. "A real dancer's body doesn't look like this. Lucky for you, I know ancient remedies."
My face burned. "W-what?"
"Strip. Let me correct you."
When I froze, his voice turned lethal. "Say no, and consider your training over."
Shaking, I dropped to my knees before him, bikini coming loose. His mouth sealed over me, teeth nipping as Warren looked on.
Then—something thick pressed against my lips.
Michael groaned. "That's my girl. Now hold still."
The throbbing between my legs was torture.
"Professor... I can't—"
His grip turned vicious. "You will. Or kiss your future goodbye."
End of Ballerina’s Confession：Seduced by My Twin Coaches Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to Ballerina’s Confession：Seduced by My Twin Coaches book page.