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One
Emir
The roar of the crowd and the pulsing bass fill my senses as I stand at the bar, my gaze sweeping over the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. It’s been too long since I’ve been out, but this place holds its allure - especially on nights like tonight, when it’s packed with people looking for trouble. Or me. I smile to myself, feeling the weight of my power as I rub a finger along the rim of my glass, watching the ice cubes clink together.
And then she steps in.
She moves like a queen through the crowd, her hips swaying to the beat, her curves curving in all the right places. Her laughter rings out above the music, drawing everyone’s attention. She’s flawless, an African American goddess with skin as smooth as silk and hair that gleams under the strobing lights. Ciara Johnson. A name I’ve heard often enough, but never had the pleasure of meeting.
As she nears the bar, our eyes lock, and for a moment, time stands still. There’s something about her - something electric and addictive that draws me in. She slides onto the stool beside me, her lips curved into a grin as she orders her drink. Her scent wafts over, sweet like vanilla and musky, like a woman who knows what she wants.
“What brings you here tonight, beautiful?” I ask, my voice a low rumble that sends shivers down her spine.
She turns to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I heard this place has the best drinks in town,” she replies, her voice like honey dripping from her lips. “And I was in the mood to indulge.”
I chuckle, feeling the drink in my hand grow warm from the intensity of my grip. “You’ve come to the right place then,” I murmur, our bodies barely brushing against each other as I pass her the drink.
We talk about nothing important, about the music and the crowd, about our lives and our dreams, but all I can think about is how close we are. How soft her skin would feel beneath my touch. The way her laughter fills the surrounding air, drawing everyone’s ears towards her. She’s captivating, and I can’t help but be captivated.
“Dance with me?” she asks abruptly, her hand sliding over my thigh.
I hesitate for just a moment before nodding, allowing her to lead me to the dance floor. Our bodies sway together in rhythm, our hips meeting in sync. She’s not afraid to press against me, to feel the heat radiating from my skin, and I love every second. As the night goes on, we lose ourselves in the music, forgetting everything around us except for each other.
Underneath the throbbing lights, she tastes like the sweetest kiss, her lips pressing against my neck. “You’re not like the others,” she whispers against my skin, her breath hot and heavy.
“No,” I agree, my voice rough with desire. “I’m not.”
Her curves press against me, and I can’t help but groan in pleasure. She smells like lavender and vanilla, like she’s the most enticing fragrance ever created, and I can’t get enough. We move together, our bodies becoming one on the dance floor, her hands tracing patterns on my back that send shivers down my spine. My fingers slip beneath her dress, cupping her plump ass cheeks and pulling her closer still.
She gasps, and it takes every ounce of control not to take her right here, right now. We continue dancing, lost in each other’s eyes, lost in the music, lost in this moment that feels so right it hurts.
Finally, the song ends, and we break apart, still panting from the intensity of the dance. She looks at me, her eyes full of longing, and I know I have to have her. Right here, right now.
“Let’s get out of here,” I growl, taking her by the hand and leading her towards the exit.
In the secluded alleyway behind the club, we stumble into each other’s arms. Her mouth finds mine, and I taste her like the nectar of the gods, my tongue diving deep into her warm mouth. She moans loudly, and it only fuels my desire further. I push her against the wall, my hips grinding against hers as my free hand explores the softness of her breasts, groping them roughly through her bra.
She bites my lip, and I can’t help but grow l in approval.
“Ciara,” I groan, tearing my mouth away from hers to nip at her neck. “You’re killing me.”
She whispers my name against my skin, her voice husky with desire.
“Do you have a car?” she asks between breaths.
I nod and pull away, but only to slide my hand under her dress, tracing the edge of her lacy panties before pushing them to the side and slipping a finger inside her wet heat. She cries out softly, arching her back and pressing herself against my hand.
“Yes,” I say hoarsely. “Right over there.”
And before she can respond, I pick her up bridal style and carry her to my waiting sports car, opening the door and setting her onto the leather seat.
“Wait here,” I murmur, already undoing my pants.
When I return, she’s lying on the seat, skirt hiked up around her waist and those plump ass cheeks exposed. I can’t help myself; I stop for a moment just to admire before sliding inside her, filling her completely with one swift thrust.
She gasps, her eyes rolling back in her head, lips parted in pure bliss. I move slowly at first, savoring every moan and whimper that escapes her lips. The leather of the car seats biting into my back, the noise of the city fading away as we become lost in our own world of passion.
Her body trembles underneath me, and I increase the pace, pounding into her with urgency.
