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Means exaclty what the title says lol...It's just random and the image in my head is probably better than how I wrote it, but meh *shrugs* What can a writer do, but try? So here it is, comment if you like. Oh!! The guys name is said with a french accent! It's not Raymond.

“And then we danced.” He raised his arms and started dancing in circles mockingly.

“No.” She whispered horrified. A tear spilled over her cheek.

“Yes.” He yanked her roughly into his arms and pulled her into the dance with him.

“Then, I stared deeply into your eyes and told you how beautiful you looked.” He said it with such sarcasm, such heartlessness. She couldn’t look into his face. This wasn’t Ramound. It couldn’t. This was not the same dance, this wasn’t the same man.

He dipped her sharply, causing her neck to snap back and look at him in the eyes. The sick delight in them made her feel sick.

“I don’t believe you.” She whimpered. He sneered into a smile and whipped her back up and began dancing faster and with undeniable grace, the posture of that of her love.

“Desiree, my sweet Desiree,” he laughed wickedly, “Believe it.”
She tried to push him off, but he slammed her body hard against his, anger sparking in eyes.

“It was then that I believe I came slowly to your face.” He leaned his face down and no matter how far back she craned her neck it wasn’t enough. She squirmed in vain in his tight embrace.

“And lightly kissed your neck.” He whispered deeply, lowering his face to softly touch his lips under her cheek. Another tear fell down her face. When he raised his head, he spotted the tear. He took her chin in his hands so she couldn’t turn her head and kissed it away. When he finally pulled away Desiree spat in his face.

“You’re despicable.” She glowered.

Ramound ground his teeth together and glared at her with contempt. “Then,” he started harshly, “I led you to the balcony.” He took his arm and wrapped it around her lower back and held her against him, so her feet didn’t touch the ground. His grasp on her wrist was so tight; she could feel it start to bruise already. In a series of elegant twirls they were on the balcony overlooking his grandeur garden, welcomed by the bitingly cold night air.

Her heart was doing summersaults, fear coursing through her veins. She could never have foreseen this, not in a thousand years. Ramound was a kind man, a good man. Not this monster with a black hole for a heart. He spun her into the balcony railing, knocking her breath away. She could hear something crack audibly and a sharp pain shot through her spine. He had one of her wrists in each hand, and his whole body was welded to hers. She started to shake.

He smelled like the night and the musk. His warm breath flooded her face in waves. He was still for a few moments, tasting her fear that laced the air. He brought both wrists behind his back and held them in one of his hands. He brought the other to softly cup her face and rub his thumb lovingly against her cheek. His cunning and fire driven eyes stared deep into hers. Her lower lip trembled and she fought back more tears.

“Then I told you I loved you.” He whispered huskily and once again leaned his face close to hers.

When he was almost to her lips she practically sobbed with heartbreak and hate, “Just another one of your lies.”

He opened his eyes and pulled away a fraction, and then, slowly, a ferocious smile spread across his face. “Of course.”