I mouth the lyrics to the crowd, warning them about the temperature and the thermometer getting low. Amelia claps and laughs to the side, so I take that moment to point to her, jog quickly in place and shout to the rooftops, “For the first time in history, it’s raining men.”
Jogging around the crowd, I clap my hands above my head and get every single person in the bar to feel the fucking groove only The Weather Girls can deliver. Fuck, I love this song.
I pull Amelia out on the dance floor and show her exactly the kind of moves she’s lacking in her dance repertoire.
“Hallelujah,” I shout, while shaking my hands up to the sky. “It’s raining men, dammit,” I ad lib for Amelia’s ears only, causing her to throw her head back and laugh. I pull her into my arms and move with her, the ridiculous song edging us on and when the music switches, I realize it’s time to get a little naughty.
The distinct sound of a hi-hat fills the space and I fucking lose it. I plaster Amelia against my body, our fronts touching . . . grinding. I grip her waist and move her along with my hips; her hands go to my chest as her gaze is drawn to our connection. Salt-N-Pepa sing “Push It” as I do everything in my body to grind dangerously against Amelia and for a brief second I think she might pull away but when she wraps her hands around my neck, meeting my every thrust, I settle into a feeling I haven’t experienced in a long time: total fucking bliss.
She’s wearing a sweater that covers her entire body so when she releases my neck to take it off and wrap it around her waist, I’m greeted by her low-cut camisole . . . and my mouth goes dry.
With every thrust into me, her breasts bounce, her cleavage seems endless. And just when I thought I was keeping my erection under control, I am so desperately wrong.
My cock turns hard as stone and I know she feels it—there is no way she can’t—but when she continues to dance with me, I realize she doesn’t care, so I make the most of it. I move my hands from her waist to just below her breasts, my thumbs gripping her ribcage. She visibly gasps from the contact and her eyes go hazy. I’m not going to push too hard, despite what the song is encouraging me to do, because I still don’t know what’s going on with her and Trey. I don’t want to make her do something she’s going to regret. I keep it clean, well, somewhat clean. I might brush a thumb against her under boob “accidently.”
Teasing me, her hands glide up my chest, feeling every contour of my pecs as we move flawlessly together, electricity bouncing between us, and just like on the first birthday we celebrated together, we’re dancing toward a wall where I press her against it. The music is pumping through us, but now her hands are pulling on my neck, making me lower my head to hers.
I grind against her, my cock pressing into her, her little body hopping up onto my waist so our centers are connected and her legs are wrapped around me.
Fuck, this is too far, this is way too far.
This is way too familiar. I know how that birthday with her ended . . .
Her head leans against the wall, her neck exposed when I press harder into her center, my cock so goddamn hard that I’m afraid it might break. I take her hands from behind my neck, lace them with mine and press them against the wall. Our foreheads connect and when I see her lips part, I hold steady, only moving my hips, feeling the solid beat of Salt-N-Pepper.
I want her so fucking bad. I want to fuck her right here, feel her tight warmth wrap around me. I want to hear her sweet moan, taste her addicting skin. I want to see the look on her face again when I fully submerge myself inside her.
My breath is running rampant, my heart beating out of control as she bites her bottom lip, thrusting her hips into me and then I hear it, a little moan.
I itch to press my lips against hers. I yearn to taste her. My hands grip hers tightly, my will slipping, my control nowhere to be found. I lean forward, lick my lips and when she parts her mouth, ready for me, I press even further.
Millimeters away—so fucking close my body is on fire—my cock throbs uncontrollably. I’m about to press my lips against hers when the song switches, turning slow and methodic, which no longer pushes me past the line I can’t cross.
Fucking hell.
I pull back. Her heady eyes snap to mine, and she looks confused. She tries to grip the back of my neck again but I shake my head, keeping her hands firmly in place.
“Not here, not now, baby. Not until you’re really ready.”
I lower her to the ground, bring her into my chest, and kiss her on top of her head. I think we’ve had enough fun for today. Enough close fucking calls. Yeah, I want her with every fiber of my being. But I don’t deserve her to fuck me, feel guilty, and then blame me. So, I back away. Again.
***
Shyly, Amelia turns toward me, her sweater back on now, and says, “Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun.”
I made a quick pit stop at my house before I helped her out of my truck and walked her to her front door. I wasn’t going to forget to give her her gift.
“I’m glad you were able to go out with me.” From my pocket, I pull out a small box and say, “Here. It’s not much, but it’s a little something for your birthday.”
She stares down at the box and then up at me. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Aaron.”
“I know, but I wanted to.” I nod at the box. “Open it.”
Smiling, she pops open the box and laughs when she holds up a silver chain with a silver pizza charm hanging off it. “Oh my God, it’s a pizza necklace.” I laugh along with her, realizing how stupid it really is, but it made her laugh, and that’s cool.
“I thought it was fitting. There’s something else in there.”
Holding the necklace, she lifts a piece of tissue paper and reveals a card with hole punches in it. It takes her a second to realize what it is but when she does, she gasps. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “It’s all yours to use whenever you want.”
She holds up a Nirchi’s punch card with all the punches filled, meaning . . . she gets a free sheet pizza to herself.
“All I ask is that you get Buffalo chicken.”
“I would be crazy to order anything else.” She holds the present to her chest. “Thank you. This is the best present ever.”
I shrug and then tip her chin. “I know what you like.”
She holds the necklace out to me. “Will you put it on for me?”
I chuckle. “You don’t have to wear it, Amelia.”
“But I want to.”
Not arguing with that, I take the necklace and reach around her neck, leaning over her body. I catch a glimpse of her sweet scent, causing my toes to curl, memories of tonight filling my head.
I clasp the necklace together, but when I go to pull away, she grips my waist, her thumbs caressing my hipbones. Well, fuck, that’s an easy way to get me hard again.
Unsure of what to do with my hands, I rest them on her shoulders and try to act as composed as possible, despite the raging need I have flowing through me.