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“That’s how it works with me. You only get to say how good it feels and how badly you want more.” He grips my hip and his hand moves back to squeeze my ass. I bat it away and he smirks, head tilted. I’m breathing fast and trying not to storm off. “Is he watching?”
I blink a few times and let his question sink in before I finally understand. I’m dizzy with want for him, and my anger’s battling my lust for control. I glance over his shoulder and spot Malcolm talking to the waitress. “I don’t think so. He’s busy trying to sleep with that blonde girl.”
“Good. Come on.” Gavino stands suddenly and I frown up at him. He looms over me, staring down into my eyes, looking devilish and handsome in his sleek black suit, no tie, top button undone to show off the hints of the tattoos on his chest. He’s at least ten years older than the next oldest person here, not counting Benedict and Malcolm, and yet he looks like a god playing among children. He runs a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair and I finally throw back my champagne before joining him.
He leads me from the VIP lounge and into the general flow of partiers. I feel Benedict’s eyes locked onto me but I do my best to ignore him. We pass by close to where Malcolm’s hitting on that girl and the men exchange nods and grins as Gavino tugs me toward the dance floor.
“Is this part of the game?” I shout over the music, but he doesn’t respond. His lips curl into a smile and I know what he’s thinking.
No, this is for his pleasure now.
He grabs me and pulls me against him as we meld into the crowd.
Bodies packed tight. Young men, women, dancing, sweating. Shouting and laughing. Drinks spill, the floor’s sticky. I don’t care. Gavino crushes me against him as he begins to sway, and I let myself relax and finally unwind as I flow into the pulsing music.
I love dancing, especially in a situation like this, where everyone’s packed together so tight, it’s so dark, and the music’s so loud that it’s like I’m practically alone even though I’m moving with the crowd. Gavino heightens that experience, and as I shake my hips, I feel his hands exploring me, from my shoulders down to my ass, squeezing tight with a smirk and dark, smoldering eyes.
He can dance, which surprises me. He moves with grace and ease like he’s been doing this his whole life, and he doesn’t look out of place on the dance floor despite being years older than most of the people here. In fact, I spot more than one girl giving him moon-eyed stares and throwing jealous glares in my direction, like he’s the center of attention and everyone woman desires him.
For some reason, that makes me more possessive.
I move closer to him, rolling my hips. He grips my ass and grinds back, and it’s the nearest thing to fucking in public I’ve ever done. He stares into my eyes, one hand in my hair, and god, it’s sensual and gorgeous, and we’re moving together as one. I forget about my problems, about Malcolm, about my mother. I forget about what happened last night. The music builds, builds, and he leads me, hands on my hips, strong hands on my ass, keeping me moving, shaking, grinding. His lips come near mine, but he doesn’t kiss me.
“If I told you to spill all your secrets right here, would you do it?”
I look at him, not sure why he’s asking me this now, and shake my head. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“If I told you to fuck me, right here and now, would you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
His fist grips my hair. “Would you follow me into the bathroom? Would you be my pet?”
“Gavino.” I twist away and he stares at me. I try to walk past him, not sure what he’s doing, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back. I gasp as he tugs me close and moves slowly with the music.
“Tell me you don’t love this,” he whispers in my ears, his strong hands holding me captive. “You can pretend all you want, but I tasted you, Jeanie. I know you now.”
I sway my hips with his. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t matter.”
“Then why do you act like you can’t stand being around me? I know you can barely control yourself when I’m around.”
“I have my reasons.”
“And I have mine too. You crossed a line the other night, asking about Sonia.”
I stare into his eyes and I know he’s right. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. If I want to keep parts of myself private, he has the same right. I knew Sonia was a sore spot, something that’s still hurting him, and I asked anyway purely because I’m afraid. I want to know what happened to her so I can avoid the same thing happening to me.
He’s right though. If I want secrets then he gets the same in return.
“I’m sorry,” I say in his ear. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He nods, grinding with me, our hips locked together. “Apology accepted.”
“Great, now do I still have to dance with you?”
He smirks and slaps my ass, squeezing it hard, and we move deeper into the crowd.
I lose track of time. I lose track of space. Malcolm’s gone and so is Benedict and I don’t care. I’m not doing this for the game or the deal or whatever anymore, I’m doing this because it feels good to dance with him right now. It feels good, better than anything’s ever felt in my life. For so long, my existence has been struggle and pain and heartache, but this, right here with Gavino, this is worth living for.
