Page 112 of No Greater Oblivion

HATE, LOVE, ESCAPE

Dahlia

The Present

Prepared to fight him off tooth and nail if necessary, I make my way to the door when he catches me by the back of my dress, hooking his finger through the top and yanking on the zipper. A yelp leaves my lips and I quickly reach behind me to keep the black sequin fabric together in case he intends on ripping it. Instead, he spins me around and grips me by the chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

He opens his mouth as if to speak but falls short of anything to say. The look he gives me nearly steals the breath from my lungs. I can take his anger, his jealousy, even his indifference. What I can’t stand is being met with is his vulnerability. Alejandro doesn’t often allow anyone into the inner sanctum of his heart and mind but when he does, the intensity with which he experiences emotions and the world could break a person’s heart. I hate how weak his vulnerability makes me. I hate that I still respond to it and hate even more how he knows and uses it against me.

Alejandro brings my mouth to his and he’s met with a little less resistance this time around. I force him away from me, push his hands aside every time he tries to touch me, and refuse to kiss him back. Yet somewhere between rejecting him and fleeing for the door, I find myself wanting to be kissed by him. And eventually, the resistance stops. It transforms into insistence, desperation. My fists are knotted in the fabric of his button down as I pull him closer and his lips part against the pressure of my own, allowing my tongue entrance into his mouth. I explore with deep, greedy strokes and he hums with pleasure, pulling me closer.

I can’t remember why I was fighting against him in the first place. I don’t know why…I don’t know.

I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore.

Desire blossoms inside me as a rush of heat sweeps through my body. Alejandro walks us backward and I brace for the moment he throws me down on the couch except it never happens. We keep moving and cool glass touches my shoulder blades. My entire body seizes.

“Alex—”

He spins me around and pins me to the glass window. Designed to overlook the dance floor, the floor to ceiling window dips forward, a sort of optical illusion to make it feel as if the person looking out through the glass is going to fall into the pit below. I’ve never been afraid of heights but I have no idea how thick or strong this window is. My heart leaps into my throat when I feel the weight of Alejandro’s body against me, pushing me further into the glass.

“Stop,” I reach for him behind me. “The glass⁠—”

“The glass is worrying you more than the people?”

I swallow the lump in my throat.

Yes…yes, it’s the people too.

Anyone can see us up here if the strobe lights hanging from the ceiling hit us at the right angle. Red, blue, and purple beams flicker throughout the nightclub and every fifteen minutes or so the confetti canons go off. On cue, there’s a confetti explosion and I jump, ready to retreat to the safety of the room when Alejandro drags his hands up the length of my thighs and lingers on the hem of my mini dress.

He speaks very quietly at my ear. “Open your legs for me.”

Frantically, I shake my head. “We can’t⁠—”

When I try to clench my thighs shut, he forces his knee between them, keeping them apart. “Open, Dahlia.”

Oh my God…what am I doing?

I rest my forehead against the glass, hoping the rush of cold will provide some relief to my sizzling body but it never comes. Inch by inch my thighs spread and the hem of my dress rises higher and gathers at my hips. His touches are subtle and intentional, drawing circles across the apex of my thighs and gliding over the fabric of my underwear but never more than that.

“Ask me.”

I shake my head. I can’t. I won’t.

“Is it because you’re afraid someone will see?” he presses his cheek against mine and looks out at the hundreds of people dancing below us, completely oblivious to what’s happening above their heads. “Are you embarrassed?”

In refusing to answer, I’ve provoked him into touching me without permission and as wrong as it is, I can’t help but feel ignited by it. It’s absolutely thrilling.

He slips a finger under the lace edge of my underwear and drags it down the length of me, stopping briefly to circle my entrance before coming back up.

“Spread your legs wider.”

My heart is pounding inside my chest, harder and faster than it ever has and I’m terrified I’m on the verge of a heart attack. Alejandro adds another finger and massages my swollen clit with such finesse and expertise, my hips move of their own volition, grinding against his hand as embarrassing sounds of pleasure leaves my lips. The orgasm never quite reaches its peak and release evades me at every turn. He enters me with a single finger and the walls of my sex clench around him. Again, he strokes and thrusts but it’s without satisfaction because he’s working at a torturous pace.

I try turning my head to meet his gaze. “Alex, please⁠—”

With a free hand locked in my hair, he twists his fingers and my scalp stings as he forces me against the glass. “Focus. Look down.”