He placed my arms around his neck, wrapped his around my waist and forced his right leg between mine so we were joined at the groin. If it hadn’t been for the fact we were practically welded together, I would have fallen over from shock. No one had ever danced with me like this before. It was so good I was sure it must be illegal. In fact the way he wove our bodies together I was quite certain it would have been banned in several states.
David’s idea of dancing was to sway slowly, usually to a different tune from the one that was being played, and circle carefully on the spot. The only other man I’d danced with had been papa – and that had been a waltz. I hadn’t even gone to my high school prom : I was already dating David so I hadn’t seen the point.
But this! This was more like sex to music but without the messy sheets. And in public.
He ground himself against me, our bodies undulating with the music. Then he spun me around and pulled me tightly against him again. I caught glimpses of envious faces of other women as we moved. Then his hands slid down to my ass and he pushed my hips into him, fingers splayed out over my buttocks.
When the tune finished I was red-faced and hyperventilating and so damn aroused! He grinned at me wickedly, knowing exactly what he’d done. He dipped me almost to the floor, then swept me up and kissed me hard.
The watching crowd gave us an ironic cheer and several yelled at us to get a room. It was the best suggestion I’d heard all day. Instead, Sebastian saluted the amused audience and grabbed my hand, towing me in the direction of the car.
“Where… where did you learn to do that?” I gasped.
“Shirley and Mitch,” he said, walking so fast I had to trot to keep up.
“You’re kidding me!”
“Nope! Base salsa champions, four years running.”
He pulled me down the street, a determined look on his face. When we got to the parking lot, I saw his eyes scanning the rows of parked cars until he found my Ford. I tried to fish my keys out of my purse but he was walking so quickly, it was hard to keep up and do anything else.
When we got to the car, he slammed my back against the door, his hands in my hair, his teeth on my throat .
“I want you so bad,” he breathed into my skin.
“Empty lot.”
“What?”
“That empty lot – you remember.”
“Fuck, yes!”
With shaking hands, I climbed into the driver’s side and fiddled with my seatbelt. Sebastian reached across me and snapped it into place, letting his fingers drift across my stomach as he did so; his heated expression made my mouth dry up.
I don’t know how I drove without having an accident: my whole body was on fire for him. Sebastian leaned back in the passenger seat, his eyes closed. He looked calm, but his too rapid breathing gave him away.
I swung into the weed-covered space of the empty lot, slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt. I’d only just managed to take off my seatbelt before Sebastian was unzipping his pants and showing me just how much he wanted me. I was so turned on seeing his need. I crawled onto his lap and thanked my lucky stars I’d chosen to wear loose pants with an elasticized waistband. I pushed them over my hips, ignored the pain from my sore skin and sank down on to him.
There was no finesse, no gentle touches: it was hard and raw and urgent. Sebastian grabbed my hips, pumping me up and down even faster. His eyes were tightly closed and his head was buried in my chest, every muscle rigid. He came hard, shuddering into me. I whimpered as my body exploded from the inside out and, without meaning to, I bit down on his neck.
His arms tightened around me and we sat there, trying to adjust our shattered breathing.
Finally, the pain from my sore skin broke through the post-orgasmic miasma and I shifted awkwardly back to the driver’s side.
I glanced over to see Sebastian zipping up his pants, a huge grin on his face.
“We should name this empty lot,” he said.
“Like what? ‘Emergency Room’?”
“Yeah!” he laughed out loud. “I hope they never build on it.”
“Maybe they’ll build one of those Japanese Love Hotels and put a plaque on the wall in our memory.”
“What’s a Love Hotel?”
“Places where courting couples can go for some privacy. You can pay by the hour.”