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I sink into the crowd muddled along the small stage and sway to the skin-chilling rasp of his voice. It makes my toes curl and my breath quicken. I’ve listened to that voice change over the years and been there when it developed the sound it has now. It’s beautiful but brutal. A voice that you hear in your mind late at night when it finds you in the silence.
He grips the mic stand and, with an unwavering stare, pins me to the place I stand. The words he’s singing are tortured, but they make me warm, as if he’s singing about love instead of heartbreak. I steady my breathing and find that smirk from earlier, flashing it at him. He might have the power to keep me too enthralled to walk away, but I have power of my own.
The dance floor is full, bodies closely huddled together. It’s easy to fall in sync with the dancing around me. I’ve never been a great dancer, but I know how to move my body in a way that grabs attention. And as I swirl my hips and dig my fingers in the damp hair at the base of my skull, Noah tracks my movements, his eyes flaring dangerously hot. I bite my tongue and lift my eyebrows coyly.
His hold tightens on the mic stand, the stomp of his foot on the stage growing more forceful. I watch the darkness swirling in his eyes expand as his stare darts behind me. An expression so brutal it threatens nothing less than absolute destruction twists his face mere seconds before two hot hands cup my hips from behind. The next lyrics Noah sings are snarled into the microphone. A series of excited screams come from the people around us as they assume that’s the way he’s supposed to sing the words. I know better.
Excitement makes me shiver. I don’t shove the hands off me, but I don’t move into the body behind me either. I want to see how this plays out. He can consider it payback for teasing me by forcing me to watch him sing onstagetwicein one night.
It takes everything in me not to recoil at the feel of hot breath on my ear. The person behind me smells like cherries and tequila. Two of my least favourite scents. I can’t blame them for continuing to dance behind me, considering I haven’t stepped away, but that doesn’t make the feel of a random person’s dick rubbing against my ass any less gross.
The song is coming to an end. As familiar lyrics drift over throaty guitar notes, I know I’m about to be eaten by the big bad wolf sooner rather than later. Unknotting my fingers from my hair, I drift them down my front, between my breasts and over my belly button. I purposely dodge the hands on my hips, and Noah doesn’t miss that. It doesn’t calm him down, though. With a hiss of the final lyric, he’s abandoning the mic stand and hopping off the stage a song early. The crowd parts for him while I swallow and jut my chin, waiting.
Taking the baring of my neck as an ill-timed invitation, the guy behind me moves in. By the time I peel myself away, it’s too late. I prepare to have to yank Noah off the guy, but he completely ignores him, as if he was never there in the first place. Instead, he moves right for me. My stomach drops at the expression that twists his face into something that has the people around us taking a step back. I knew it was coming, begged it to, but now . . . maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.
I’m in trouble now.
“Noah—” I start.
“Come,” he snips. He wraps his fingers around my wrist, but they’re so gentle that it feels wrong with how angry he is.
Curious eyes follow us as we rush through the rental space that was transformed for this party. I don’t know what this place is usually used for, but it works pretty great for a party space. Hunter did a good job. It’s a shame I’m not going to be here much longer to enjoy it. At least I’ve already done my rounds.
“Where are we going?” I ask when we turn down a darkened, empty hallway. The bright, neon lights from the other room snap at our heels. They flash across Noah’s back, painting him in red and blue and green.
Loud music muffles the sound of my heels clacking on the floor as I struggle to keep up with his fast pace. I don’t dare ask him to slow down.
My lungs empty with a sudden exhale when he suddenly whirls around and starts toward me, boxing me in against the wall. Top lip curled, he forces our foreheads together and covers my hip with his hand, replacing the memory of that man’s hand with one that features only him.
“Do you have any fucking clue what you do to me? How easy it is for you to drive me to insanity?” he hisses, roughly bumping the bridge of my nose with the tip of his.
In one needy action, I have my fingers jammed through the belt loops in his jeans, using the leverage to yank him close. He breathes a throaty laugh, digging those long fingers into my curves.
“Do you not think it’s the same for me?” I ask. My tongue feels loose, like I’ve downed an entire bottle of vodka when I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in weeks. “Watching you up there drivesmeto insanity. Everyone looks at you like you’re a god. But they’re all wrong. There’s nothing holy about you, is there?”
His nostrils flare. “No. There isn’t.”
I flex my fingers and push them beneath his shirt. As I guide them across hot, hard, tattooed skin, I watch him react to my touch. Each breath he takes sounds pained, stressed. Like he’s holding back again, refusing to give us both what we crave. I want to get my hands on him properly and explore without a single boundary between us.
“I want you to rip the halo off my head, Noah. There are very few things I’ve done in life that I’ve loved as much as being on my knees for you,” I murmur, lips brushing his jaw.
A savage noise escapes him then, cutting through the thumping music as if it was never there at all. The hallway isn’t private by any means, but Noah doesn’t care. When he falls to his knees and frantically pushes my dress up over my hips, I don’t care either. If anything, the idea of someone catching us drives me to dig my hands in his hair and roughly pull his face between my legs.
Yes, yes, yes.Finally.
“Fuck,” I curse at the first curious stroke of his tongue through my slit. My back curls, and my head slams against the wall as I throw it backward and moan.
He presses a hand to my belly while diving the other between my legs. Parting me open for him, he stares at me as if looking for any sign of discomfort before thrusting his tongue inside of me and applying a soft, teasing pressure to my clit with his thumb. I carve my nails into his scalp hard enough I want to feel the ridges left behind when we’re done. He growls against my pussy and trails his hand from my belly to my thigh, moving it to his shoulder and giving him more room.
Starving. That’s what he is. He eats my pussy like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to taste. After being teased all fucking night, this is exactly what I needed.
The first breach of his finger inside of me has me crying out, the achy feeling of emptiness finally easing slightly. I’m so wet it’s easy for him to add a second finger, seeming to sense that one wasn’t enough before I can voice that to him.
“So good,” I breathe, grinding into his face.
He leans back just enough our eyes clash and hold. I part my lip to beg him to come back, but then he’s keeping his eyes on mine and pursing his lips before spitting between my legs. All thought disappears from my mind like smoke in the wind. It’s filthy. Something I never would have imagined I’d like. But I feel my knees shake in response, the heel beneath my unsupported leg teetering. He shifts so he’s fully supporting the leg thrown over his shoulder, steadying me so I don’t collapse.
“For years, I’ve wondered how dirty you might be, Tinsley. What fantasies you might have,” he grits out, his fingers gaining speed as they thrust inside of me. The hall echoes with the sound of how turned on I am for him.
