I will have her.
She walks up to the bar and asks for something. I couldn’t tell you what, because when she leans over the edge, her perfect ass is on display for my hungry eyes. My mouth waters and my fingertips tingle. Just imagining my fingers digging in hard and pulling her roughly towards my straining cock causes my already strung tight body to weep. I must have let out a groan because her head snaps up and looks me over.
“Want to take a picture?” Her question has me slowly, oh so slowly, bringing my eyes up to hers. She doesn’t look pissed, which is a plus. She looks like she is enjoying this slow fucking torture.
“Dance with me.” I look at her, just taking her in and wait for her to answer, a little shocked that the request even came out of my mouth. I hate dancing, but if it gets my body closer to hers, I will do anything.
“Just dance?”
“For now.” Taking her hand and leaving our drinks on the bar, I lead her to the middle of the room, pulling her close and crushing her body to mine.
Having her in my arms feels like coming home. I am not one to believe in all that love at first sight bullshit, but even as cynical as I am, I can recognize something bigger than lust at work. My body wants her; that is no secret, but the level of want is borderline craving. I need her. Needing someone is not something I am used to. No, I am used to being needed… something this woman clearly doesn’t want.
“What’s your name, Beauty?” I ask her again. I use the rhythm of the song to rock our hips together softly. Her arms dangle over my shoulders, and if I bend over slightly, our lips will be even. My fingertips are just barely ghosting over the swell of her ass. My cock is begging me to pull her flush, to feel her body against mine.
She ignores me and smiles coyly. She might be able to play off this aloof behavior as indifference to our connection, but her eyes can’t hold back. Her eyes are telling me everything I need to know. She might not have made up her mind as to what she wants but I can tell deep down she wants to find a dark room.
“Come on Beauty, tell me,” I plead. I’m not past it at this point and fuck if she wants me to call her Timmy and bark like a dog, I will.
She doesn’t answer, but her hands push into my hair and grab it in a firm hold, pulling the strands tightly. She comes off her heels and brings her mouth up to my ear. “What’s it matter?”
Normally I would hate games, but with her, it feels like foreplay. “Babe, I need to know what to call you when I slide my dick into your body.” Her gasp in my ear causes my already painfully hard dick to throb. She pulls back and looks at me; her wide blue eyes are sparkling with curiosity.
“You said just a dance.” Like I need reminding.
“Didn’t say we would be dancing with our clothes on.” We lock eyes for a few more seconds before I hear the song change and the soulful sounds of Sam Grow’s ‘Lay You Down’ fill my ears. If this isn’t a sign, then I don’t know what is. I pull her close to my body, her tits crush against my chest, and my dick pushes into her stomach. My leg pushes between hers and I begin a slow, sex-filled rhythm with our hips. Bending down so that my lips are a breath away from her ear, I softly sing the words, making sure that every single ounce of promise I possess is present in the lyrics.
Wrapping one arm around her slim waist, I trail the other slowly up her spine before cradling her head lightly, turning it slightly to give me better access.
I can feel her breath coming rapidly against my cheek, and where my thumb rests against her neck, her pulse is pounding in frantic succession.
She wants this.
We continue our slow grind to the lyrics that feel like they were made for our dance. There is no doubt in my mind that if our clothes were absent, I would be deep inside her body.
I might have been able to hold my reserve about staying away from this man, until he takes me in his arms and basically blows my mind with just a dance. I am willing to sign my soul over at this point. I can feel him pressing against my stomach… every rock solid inch. Each time he rotates his hips with the beat of the song, a little more wetness seeps from my body. I am primed and ready to go, all because of this man.
When the song ends, he pulls back again and looks into my eyes. “Tell me.”
“Melissa,” I squeak. Yes… I squeak. The games are over now; this is too raw.
“Alright, Melissa,” he croons; my name curling around his tongue sends tingles across every inch of skin. “Let’s start over, hmm?”
I stare at this gorgeous man and nod my head like an idiot.
“Name’s Greg Cage. Most of my friends call me Greg, some call me Cage, but you can call me whatever you want.”