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Fuck, she’d been a vision.
Startling.
Pure.
Intense in her movements.
Certain in her ability.
My heart had hiccupped in my chest, swollen with longing, that for a moment I’d thought I might die from the sheer size of it. Christ, just hearing this song takes me back there. Conjures up those confusing, contradictory feelings that I’d felt back then.
“Do you remember how you felt dancing with me that night?” she asks, her fingertips dropping from the length of silk and sliding down my spine. She leaves me blind, my vision taken from me momentarily. It only seems to make my emotions swell even more.
My breath hitches and I nod, swallowing hard as I fight the urge to rip off the blindfold and pin her to the studio floor.
“Talk to me, Xeno, tell me what you felt,” she encourages, sensing I’m about to bolt, bringing me back to the moment.
“I was mesmerised by you, Tiny. I was drawn to you by some invisible pull that I couldn’t explain. Still can’t,” I begin. “All I knew at that moment, despite how much I thought I hated you, was that it feltrightholding you in my arms. I couldn’t not dance with you.”
“I know, I felt that too,” she whispers, her arms wrapping around my waist as she presses her front to my back, her hips swaying to the beat as she reminds me in this moment how blissful it is to dance with her, howfucking right.
Instinctively, my body moves in synchronicity, taking cues from her subtle steps, her gentle coercion, the sensual way her body knows mine so well. “Iknewthat stepping into the studio with you would burn me,hurtme,” I continue, “But there was nothing I could do to stop myself. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
“Is it hurting now, dancing with me?” she asks, moving around me, her leg sliding between my thighs as she positions herself between them, her warm breath feathering across my neck, sending chills scattering across my skin. Chills that erupt into flames as her crotch presses against mine.
“No. It doesn’t hurt, Tiny. Not anymore.”
“Good,” she murmurs, taking my hands in hers, gently circling her hips, encouraging me to follow her lead this time.
The lack of vision is disorienting at first, but eventually I begin to find my way, her gentle touches and cues guiding me. As we dance, I allow myself to surrender to the moment, moving to the music, our bodies so in tune that there’s no need for words as our feet glide across the studio floor. Yet despite the easy way we move with each other, with every step my emotions become bigger, larger,moreoverwhelming. The familiarity of dancing with Tiny has always soothed my soul, but right now being this close to her whilst I’m in this frame of mind only fires the need in my blood.
I want to fuck, not dance.
My steps falter, and my fingers grip her tighter as my cock hardens, lengthening painfully as it pushes against the zipper of my jeans.
“Tiny, I–” My voice catches as I press into her, holding her closer as my need to fuck takes over.
“Keep dancing,” she urges, sensing the change in me, but fighting against it, trying to bring me back around.
“I need you,” I grind out, the swirl of emotion growing, building, drowning me.
If I don’t find a way to distract myself it’s only going to get worse. So I allow that other part of myself to step forward, this wild, animalistic side of me that’s wrapped up in these overwhelming, overpowering emotions. It’s snarling to be free. Free to fuck wildly, violently, so that it can obliterate these feelings that will tear me apart if I let them.
But Tiny refuses me. She refuses to entertain that violent part of me like she has so willingly on other occasions. This time she keeps me moving, keeps me dancing, her intoxicating scent tantalising me. I know what she’s trying to do, I understand better than anyone, but dancing with her right now, like this, is like fuel to a fire.
Every press of my hips against hers, every brush of her thigh against my own, every teasing sweep of her nipples against my chest is agony. It’s pure agony.
My cock swells. My fingers bruise.
Fuck.
“I. Need. You,” I repeat, anger tainting my words, heating them up, making them painful.
I’m not angry at her, I’m angry at myself, at this fucking infuriating way that I can’t deal with my emotions like everyone else.
“No, youneedto keep dancing,” she replies, her fingers slipping from mine as she steps back.
I lurch forward, reaching for her, my knees buckling, my dick aching, my heart fucking thundering. “What are you doing, Tiny?” I ask, my emotions spiking in my chest from her absence, tiny blades carving into my heart.
