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I hold her tighter but soften my tone. “I don’t want to see you with anyone else, Dayna. I can’t. It drives me fucking crazy. You drive me crazy.”
Her breathing quickens. She relaxes into my hold, and her eyes shift from mine to my lips. I slide my hands down over her tight arse and pull her against my stiffening cock. I lean forwards, my mouth so close to hers I can feel and taste her breath. She moves with me, letting me bend her back towards the dance floor. She drops her head, and I support her with one arm, my other hand drawing down her sternum, her stomach. She moves one leg to the outside of mine, and her hips start to move, cautiously at first, then she lets go and we move together to the beat. Her body fits mine. She feels fucking amazing rubbing against me.
Matty comes out of nowhere and knocks me off my feet. My arse hits the floor, and he comes at me again. I stagger to my feet and lunge at him, dropping my shoulder into his waist, driving him back. He lands a fist in my side and swings for my head as I stand. I duck, then smash him with a hook in his jaw that rocks his head back and forces him to take three unsteady steps into the crowd.
Georg suddenly appears with one of the bar staff. They each grab one of Matty’s arms and pull him off the dance floor. “Calm it down, Clark, or you’ll have to go,” Georg shouts above the music.
I hold up a hand and nod, my other arm wrapped around my waist.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Dayna screams at me.
I grab her by the wrist and drag her off the dance floor, down a corridor that leads to the toilets. I pull her into an alcove and push her back against the wall. “I have lost my mind. Over you.”
I waste no time in pressing my mouth against hers, but she pushes me back with more force than she ought to have, and her hand swipes straight across my cheek with a sting. I stand dead on the spot, my arms at my sides. She said she’d do it. She warned me what would happen if I tried to kiss her again. That she followed through on her threat makes me want her all the more.
She says nothing but takes a breath that lifts her chest, her breasts pulling her dress taut across them. She wants this as much as I do. I take her wrists and pin them above her head so she can’t slap me, then I kiss her again. I wait, counting down nanoseconds that feel like an eternity. Finally, she opens her mouth and groans into me, her tongue reaching out to mine.
No memory could live up to the feel of her, the taste of her. I get lost in her, forgetting where we are. I let go of her wrists and hold her face in my palms as she runs her fingers through my hair, gripping tightly as our mouths move faster, our tongues deeper. I run a hand down her body, her curves fitting exactly into the span of my hand. As I round the globe of her arse she flexes her pelvis against me and no doubt feels my erection against her. Jesus, that feels fucking good. A guttural sound leaves my throat and matches her moan as her body begs for more.
She tightens her fist in my hair and bites my lip. I shift my body to shield her from anyone passing by the alcove and slip my hand under her dress, climbing her thigh, then the soft flesh of her arse.
“Clark, not here,” she whispers into my mouth. But she doesn’t stop me. Instead she increases the intensity of her mouth over mine and the roll of her body against my crotch. I have to make her come. I need to see how much she still wants me, too.
I slide my hand to her centre, cupping her over her thong, waiting for a response. Her back arches, giving me permission. I push my fingers past the delicate fabric.
“You want me,” I tell her as I draw my fingers through her slick lips. “You’re so fucking wet for me, baby.” It makes my cock painfully hard. I want to strip her down right here and drive my dick into her until she’s full of my come.
She bites harder on my lip, fighting herself, I think. I know the feeling of your body, your heart and your head pulling in different directions. I know the frustration she’s feeling, and I let her bite me and pull my hair, whatever she needs, because I want to see her orgasm. I want to remind her how I can make her feel.
I thrust two fingers inside her warm, wet cunt and relish the sound of her groan — carnal, desperate. She drops her head to my shoulder and bites down through my shirt as I work my fingers against her inner wall, stroking her G-spot. I remember exactly how she feels, how she likes it, as if we were never apart. I press my lips to her neck over and over, absorbing her scent and the taste of her skin I’ve missed so much.
I move my thumb to her clit and circle it, driving my fingers deeper into her, feeling her press back against me, trying to take more. She pushes her thigh harder against my crotch as her insides start to clench. She’s close, and so am I, without even being inside her. The promise, the memories, the sound of her desire, take me to the edge.
“Come for me, baby,” I whisper into her ear. The sound is a beg. I need her to climax otherwise I will.
She lifts her head and kisses me fiercely as her muscles start to pulse. She comes around me, her pleasure running down my fingers. She whimpers into my mouth, and I have to hold everything still. I stop kissing her, take my hand back and lean my forehead on hers, my eyes closed, forcing back my own orgasm.
“I want you in my bed,” I tell her through gritted teeth.
