Connected

He’s playing too. His hands are no longer resting on my hips, they have drifted down to my backside and he’s cupping it. He’s no longer just leaning into me; he’s now whispering dirty things in my ear.

 

The song thumps on, and we get so completely lost in ourselves that we’re oblivious to everyone else on the dance floor. As I turn around so that I’m no longer facing him, this is never so apparent than in this moment. With my back now to his front, the sexual energy radiating between us turns electrifying. My want and my need for him overcome me as he places his right hand on my hip. My body quivers in response as he slowly slides his hand up my stomach. His nose is in my hair and his hand glides across the front of my camisole in a crossing motion. He’s breathing heavily on my neck, and I know I’m not the only one affected by our electric current. As he continues to softly move up my body, I absorb every touch. When he stops and gently pokes his fingers through the holes of the lace in my shirt, touching my bare skin, I throw my head back into his neck. He’s caressing my skin; searing it with his touch, and I love every minute of it.

 

As his hand continues to travel up my body, he carefully, almost strategically takes his other hand and swipes my hair off my shoulder to expose the side of my neck. He trails soft kisses down it. As he reaches my shoulder, his kisses fade away. His mouth reappears at my neck, and he seductively drags his tongue back up to my ear. When he reaches my lobe, he jets his tongue in and out, sending shivers down my spine. My body is now a trembling mass of sensation. It’s only heightening my awareness of him and quickly increasing my need to have him.

 

I smile as Havana Brown’s song bleeds into another Enrique song. I no longer hear the lyrics in each verse, but I do hear the words as he sings about fucking someone tonight. The colored lights of the disco ball and strobe lights continue to flicker, and we begin to do more than just dance. He’s seducing me, or I’m seducing him; I have no idea which and I don’t care. The only thing that matters, the only difference, is I have an urgent need that can’t wait to be addressed.

 

I close my eyes as his hand passes over my ribs and settles on my breast, and his fingers rub circles around my erect nipple. His hand is now clenching and unclenching my hip as he continues his tongue’s assault on my ear and my neck. Experiencing sensual overload with his body wrapped around mine, with his mouth on me, with his scent so intoxicatingly close, and his smooth jawline rubbing against my tender skin, a sudden carnal need erupts. One that must be satisfied sooner rather than later.

 

When I grind myself into him, I can feel his hardness, and this makes me very aware that he feels the same way I do. I smile. I can hear his erratic breathing and he groans as he grabs both my hips, holding me tight to him. His breathing grows more irregular as his hands drift down the front of my jeans. When my hands make their way around to his core, I slide them into his back pockets and push him further into me. He quickly turns me back around. Hah . . . I got him.

 

Facing each other, our eyes flicker and our breaths are ragged, extremely intense. When he licks his lower lip in a way that screams out how sexy he is, I bite mine. I skim my way down his body. I’m amazed my dancing abilities haven’t rusted over the past few years, and I’m shocked that I’m dancing far more seductively than I ever have before, ever.

 

I shimmy my way up his leg and run my hands up the inside of his thighs. As I’m reaching his core, I brush my fingers over his flawless chest and well-defined abs, and they tense under his tight t-shirt. When I start to untuck his shirt, he grabs my hands and pulls them around his neck, hoarsely whispering in my ear, “Do you want a drink?”

 

Kim Karr's books