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A woman approached, flirtatious and adoring, yet he remained stoic. Not once did he break eye contact with her. Noticing this, the woman left.

Everything else faded, where he remained in sharp contrast.

Whilst his direct gaze was intimate, it was her response to him that fuelled her fantasies. This was what she had been longing for ever since she had turned eighteen and felt there was something missing from her pleasure. Since that sledgehammer of lust had blown through her defenses and left her shuddering and straining for something more than her fingers.

The song was coming to an end, and her focus redirected to Gus as he stepped back and began peppering her with questions. Amira could barely hear him over the rushing in her ears.

She didn’t dare look in the corner where he was standing. Not until she had regained her composure. A few minutes later when she did, she was surprised to see the space was vacant. Amira searched through the crowds, on the dance floor and at the end of the hall, but failed to find the enigmatic stranger.

He had simply vanished.

* * *

Careful not to make too muchnoise, Amira placed the key in the lock, opening the front door by slow degrees. She knew every creaking board, every telltale rattle.

This was why she had to find a place of her own and move out. She was sick of sneaking in like she was some adolescent and not a fully grown adult. Not that her parents would ever see her that way. In their eyes, she was some innocent in need of shelter from the big bad world.

But Amira craved big. She was intrigued by bad. And something told her he was definitely a man of the world.

If her parents only knew what their youngest daughter was thinking, she’d be locked away for life. Which was another problem. Bringing men home was a no-no. Bringing them home for wild, debauched sex would probably result in being disowned.

She had been taught from a young age that sex before marriage was a sin. Disobeying her parents would be inevitable, and at some stage, when she had saved up enough so she’d never have to move back, it would be painful. But when she left, it wouldn’t be because she was married to some man her parents approved. It would be because she was able to support herself. Regardless of duty.

She was her own woman. One who was almost dizzy with the need for release.

“’Mira, is that you?” Her mother’s sleepy voice rang through from the bedroom.

“Yes, go to back to bed,” she whispered.

But she knew her mother rarely slept until she was home. It was stressful at the best of times. Suffocating at the worst.

“Where have you been?”

“We’ll talk in the morning. Goodnight.”

Amira tiptoed up the stairs and down the hall to the back of the house. She waited until she heard her mother’s telltale snoring before sneaking to the bathroom. She could never be too certain that she wasn’t followed for a late-night grilling. It had happened before.

She locked the door, then turned on the shower. Stripping off her clothes, she stepped under the spray, closing the screen door behind her. The minute the water hit her body, the tension she had been carrying began to ebb away.

Everything was muted except the pulsing at her core. Picking up the shower head, she ran the nozzle over her face, then slowly down her breasts. She played with the intensity of the spray until she found the right pressure. She wanted to toy with herself, to extend that moment of release until only her satisfaction mattered.

When she closed her eyes, she saw him. Always him. Watching her dance, following her every move.

His mouth on her neck, biting, sucking until she couldn’t breathe. That body—firm and solid—pressing, demanding, against hers.

She stroked herself now, allowing her imagination free reign. Straddling him, she guided his hard length inside her.

Her hips strained. She pinched her nipples with one hand and lowered the nozzle to the thatch of auburn curls between her thighs. Amira jerked. Every nerve was alive, eager and straining for direct contact.

She pictured him now kneeling between her thighs, his tongue working over her, lapping at her wet core, gripping her hips. She wanted to feel those fingers biting into her ass, holding her in place. She jerked back and forth as the pressure of the shower head beat down.

Amira dipped one finger inside, just the tip, until she felt pressure, and a pinching sensation. She inched back, pressing her knuckles against her entrance with one hand, with the other she directed the nozzle against her clit.

“Yes.”

Tipping back her head, she bucked her hips back and forth, ribbons of pleasure winding tighter and tighter, wrapping around her until she trembled.

He watched her now, pleasuring herself. Amira stretched her legs further apart, adjusting the pressure. She wanted to draw out her orgasm, but every time she directed the water to her clit, her legs began to shake.

Every time she pictured him, sucking her, fucking her, she almost lost control.

Bouncing up and down on the nozzle, Amira pinched her nipples. His mouth on her breasts. His cock inside of her, pounding away as she straddled his hips.

And then it happened, the build-up reached an exquisite level of intensity. She crested at the peak, gasping, breaking into a million fragmented pieces. Cupping her sex, she ground back against her fingers, riding her orgasm until she was no longer shaking.

Still, he watched her.

But her body was spent, her arms heavy. She shook off the alluring images, mind fatigued. Once would have to do for tonight. Amira finished showering and ignored the tingling sensation of the towel on her body as she dried off.

Her nighttime routine complete, she tiptoed back to her bedroom, closing the door and climbing into bed. Alone.

His face swam into view the minute she closed her eyes. Almost instantly, she slept.