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Back inside, I scan the VIP area to find our table empty.
“She’s on the dance floor with Eric.”
I turn to look at the person beside me, it’s Charlotte’s friend, Emma, the young, sexy, innocent-looking blonde.
“Thanks. Emma, right?”
“Yes, and you’re welcome.”
She walks back toward the bar, accompanied by the guy who sat next to her at the table.
The club is at full capacity, on the brink of violating the fire code. I’ve warned Reginald, the club manager, repeatedly, to make sure security is doing the job or everyone’s ass is on the line.
Weaving my way through the crowd, my eyes are drawn to where she’s dancing with Eric. Her back is facing me and unable to resist any longer, I join her without any warning and press her body against mine.
I’m not prepared for how amazing it feels to have her in my arms, almost as if I never let her go, and she has always belonged to me, and only me. Like the missing piece to my broken puzzle, she fits perfectly in my embrace, my body thirsty for her like a drug.
With every sway of her hips, she pushes against my cock, teasing me with her perfect ass. I’m no longer imagining things, certain she wants me just as much as I want her.
She let me dance with her at the charity ball and allowed me to kiss her privately inside the conference room. Upstairs, she allowed me to lick the salt off her skin, and despite her intoxicated state working in my favor, I’m not going to play nice.
I want her drunk or not drunk. Call me selfish, but I need her more than anything.
My desire to fuck her nice and hard overshadows any rational thinking that I might lose Charlotte if I push her. Knowing the kitchen out back isn’t in use tonight, I grab her hand, pulling her away from the dance floor.
I lead her into the kitchen, taking her immediately against the refrigerator. I lose all sense of control with her, kissing every part of her body, finally taking her nipples in my mouth. I tug on them with my teeth, hearing her moan just like she used to every time I fucked her.
My cock is throbbing with every moan escaping her beautiful lips. I know she wants me, desperate to have me enter her.
But I’m not going to play nice.
She thinks she can taunt me with a ring on her finger? She doesn’t know who she’s messing with. I didn’t become a billionaire by playing nice.
I play dirty to get what I want.
And I want her.
The obsession with making her mine again is my only focus.
I thrust my fingers into her, groaning as they slide so effortlessly. Careless in my actions, I keep finger-fucking her roughly, relishing in how soaked her pussy becomes around my fingers.
Inside my pants, I’m ready to fucking blow. All this control I had, perhaps I am fucking wrong. I’m tormenting myself just as much.
With her chest heaving, and her body wriggling from the intensity, I sense her impending orgasm but pull my fingers out just in time. Raising it to her lips, I watch her taste her own juices before running my tongue along her mouth and tasting her arousal.
I need her to beg for it.
The sadistic side of me wants to see her suffer. I need the power trip, desperate for her to beg me to fuck her nice and hard like it’s always been only me. I must be the only thing on her mind, the only person who invades her dreams and visualizes when she opens her eyes. The only voice in her head, the only scent she can smell.
She has to understand a world will not exist without me.
We both stop, uneven breaths between us as our stares fixate on one another. She lies completely petrified under my command, her lips quivering while her hands fumble with the buckle of my pants. I’m in control, the narcissist emerging is savoring this moment of gratification.
A creaking noise startles us both, forcing us to pull away from each other.
It’s only the janitor He apologizes for the interruption, and I allow him to continue, immediately regretting the words escaping my mouth.
Why the fuck did you let her go?
