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“Christ.” Aliana’s call for divine help is almost amusing. Almost, because no deity or man could pull me away, and as my eyes meet hers again a second later, I think that sinks in for her. I don’t need to voice it. Not with the hunger in my eyes, nor the way my hands shake while tightening my hold on her hips. “Are you okay?”
Am I? Not in the motherfucking slightest.
My control is slipping, but I’m not questioning it.
“Say my name,” I utter instead of answering her. Her chest rises, a slow, shuddering breath leaving her, and there’s a low mumble of fuck me she thinks I don’t hear but I do. For a few seconds, Aliana doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are on mine, and the longer they meet, hers darken, the dark brown with hints of green disappear and eyelids drop to watch me from beneath long lashes. She’s attracted to me, and it fills me with heat. Excitement. A want for more that’s foreign. “Say. It.”
“Callum,” Aliana whispers, those supple lips molding over each letter, and I shiver—slam my body against hers while a hand moves to her back protectively. And having her like this, nearly wrapped around me, cements that need to not let go. “Callum, maybe we should—”
I cut her off with a soft, chaste kiss to her mouth. It’s quick, but enough to pull a harsh flex of my hips against her heat. Her moan is low but throaty, and every molecule in my body throbs for her. Right fucking there; I feel her heat, a bit of wetness, and I want more.
To fuck and take and gorge, but not here.
A final thrust is all I give myself before pulling back, gripping her hand in mine before yanking her from the stool. Aliana stumbles right into me, a small yelp escaping before I have her turned around and facing the crowded lounge with her back to my front. No space between us as I pull the hem of her skirt back to cover what is mine. My lips are at the crown of her head.
“Will you do me the honor of a dance, love?” I say low, leaving a trail of kisses until I reach her temple. There I pause and breathe her in, pulling the sweet fragrance of peaches into my lungs. This calms me—I’m hard as fuck—while it ignites a fire at the same time. “I’ll be on my best behavior tonight. Promise.”
“What if that isn’t what I want?” She’s watching her friends dance not far from us. They’re laughing, not an ounce of coordination between them, and oblivious to our observation. They forgot about her the moment whatever rapid-hand-movement-meets-booty-dropping routine they learned on a social media app began. “What if, for the first time in my life, I want to forget and be me?”
Be me.
Two words, and they stop me dead.
Be me.
Be me.
“You can always be yourself with me.” Something is dodgy. The more the words turn in my mind, the more bloody scenarios become conclusions, and they all have to do with her father. Has he abused her? Or anyone in her family, for that matter?
I’d fucking skin them alive and feed them to my pet a piece at a time.
From what I can see, she doesn’t have marks on her, but that means jack shit when things can be hidden underneath makeup or clothing. My hands twitch on her hips, the urge to strip her bare and check every inch is unbearable, but I grit my teeth and walk us toward the dancing crowd.
The music tonight is a mixture of the island beats with heavy bass, and I wrap an arm around her midsection, pulling her in closer. She’s short even with heels on, and my cock nestles just above the curve of her arse, so I lift her off the ground and settle myself where I belong.
Her body is my home.
Motherfuck, I feel it deep within.
It’s been there since I found myself entranced by a simple video, enamored by the mere sight of her.
A rightness that makes no sense and that I’m powerless to stop. What is it about you that makes me want to bring the world to its knees in worship of you?
More so when her hips begin to grind against me.
Aliana doesn’t complain about being manhandled or how hard I am behind her. Instead, she works those thick hips harder. Even in my tight hold, she manages to massage my cock behind the zipper of my trousers for the next thirty minutes. Not once did she step away from me or demand to be put down.
She feels good. Too good.
One song flows into another, a dancehall rhythm taking over the crowd, and the girl in my arms loses all inhibitions. Back arching, she circles her hips, winding slowly with a little bounce against my thick length.
Had we been sitting down, she’d be riding my cock.
This little move is one I’ll revisit. Bare. Sweaty. No barriers.
“You’re playing a dangerous game tonight, Miss Rubens,” I hiss between clenched teeth when her arms wrap around my neck and she fists the hair at the back of my head. She tugs and I feel it down to my balls, holding me prisoner to her every breath.
But then she stops.
