back in as if they’d done it hundreds of times before, “our bodies will heat and become fluid.”
She blinked up into his handsome, grinning face as he plastered her once again against his chest, his hand moving lower and gliding along the upper curves of her ass, molding their hips together as they swayed side to side.
“And you said you couldn’t dance.”
“That was all you.”
“Mmm, perhaps.” He dipped her then, bending her over his arm briefly before popping her upright again. Nose to nose, he held her close, his eyes surveying her flushed face and the tendrils of hair that came loose from her clip and fell around her shoulders in disarray. Trailing down to her throat, his eyes paused, making her wonder if her rapidly beating pulse was visible there, then they moved lower to the unmistakable rise and fall of her chest, breathless not from exertion, but from the press of his hard body against her softness, and the control he exerted, easily taking ownership of more than the dance.
“ Très bien, ma belle, but when I dip you again, I want you to trust me to not let you fall. Relax in my arms and let your head arch back.”
Rocking their hips for a moment, he maneuvered them into several graceful turns until he located a less crowded spot on the floor. This time, he released the hand he held, guiding it up to his shoulder before dipping her once again. As he did, his hand slid down her side and curled around her thigh, cocking her leg up high alongside his hip. Putting them in intimate alignment, she felt the long, hard ridge of his arousal press into the soft cradle of her thighs. He held that pose longer, running his lips up the line of her throat as her head fell back, more hair tumbling free and brushing the floor.
“ Parfait! You are a natural.”
Not even close, it was Arturo that was perfect. For several more songs, she was swept up in the pleasure of dancing with such a skilled partner. Slow or fast, he made it seem she knew what she was doing. At one point, when the music changed to Rihanna’s “Don’t Stop the Music,” he spun her around, and with her back to his front began to grind against her, keeping pace with the twenty-somethings on the dance floor even as the older couples bowed out.
Smiling and enjoying herself as she hadn’t in years, she let herself go, letting his hands guide her hips as his erection rubbed suggestively against her soft behind. His arm slid around in front, and with his hand splayed over her belly, in a long slow sweep of his hand, he moved upward, between her breasts until it wrapped around her throat. It seemed automatic to lift her arm and wrap it around the back of his neck as he turned her face up to his. With fingertips grazing her chin and his thumb riding her jaw, he opened his lips over hers, his tongue exploring the recesses of her mouth, sending waves of arousal rippling through her.
At the end of the too short song, he didn’t release her, holding her clasped close, his touch firm and persuasive, inviting more. “Having fun?” he asked, only slightly breathless.
“Yes, sir.”
“The choice is yours then, a drink and more dancing, or we can go play, if you’re ready.”
Her brain cried stay, drink, dance where it’s safe, but she found her lips moving on their own accord. “Play, sir, please. I’m more than ready.”
His gaze met hers, the smoldering flame of desire she saw there making her pulses leap with excitement.
“ Moi aussi, ma petite. Let’s go.”
Chapter Eight
Butterflies took flight in her stomach as she looked around the room, asking herself for the hundredth time what she was doing here. Coming alone to a sex club was ballsy for her, going off to a private room for bondage games with a man she hardly knew was crazy. The fact that he was gorgeous, charming, and unerringly dominant, and also so sexy that a flash of his white teeth against his swarthy skin, or a heart stopping glance from his penetrating green
She blinked up into his handsome, grinning face as he plastered her once again against his chest, his hand moving lower and gliding along the upper curves of her ass, molding their hips together as they swayed side to side.
“And you said you couldn’t dance.”
“That was all you.”
“Mmm, perhaps.” He dipped her then, bending her over his arm briefly before popping her upright again. Nose to nose, he held her close, his eyes surveying her flushed face and the tendrils of hair that came loose from her clip and fell around her shoulders in disarray. Trailing down to her throat, his eyes paused, making her wonder if her rapidly beating pulse was visible there, then they moved lower to the unmistakable rise and fall of her chest, breathless not from exertion, but from the press of his hard body against her softness, and the control he exerted, easily taking ownership of more than the dance.
“ Très bien, ma belle, but when I dip you again, I want you to trust me to not let you fall. Relax in my arms and let your head arch back.”
Rocking their hips for a moment, he maneuvered them into several graceful turns until he located a less crowded spot on the floor. This time, he released the hand he held, guiding it up to his shoulder before dipping her once again. As he did, his hand slid down her side and curled around her thigh, cocking her leg up high alongside his hip. Putting them in intimate alignment, she felt the long, hard ridge of his arousal press into the soft cradle of her thighs. He held that pose longer, running his lips up the line of her throat as her head fell back, more hair tumbling free and brushing the floor.
“ Parfait! You are a natural.”
Not even close, it was Arturo that was perfect. For several more songs, she was swept up in the pleasure of dancing with such a skilled partner. Slow or fast, he made it seem she knew what she was doing. At one point, when the music changed to Rihanna’s “Don’t Stop the Music,” he spun her around, and with her back to his front began to grind against her, keeping pace with the twenty-somethings on the dance floor even as the older couples bowed out.
Smiling and enjoying herself as she hadn’t in years, she let herself go, letting his hands guide her hips as his erection rubbed suggestively against her soft behind. His arm slid around in front, and with his hand splayed over her belly, in a long slow sweep of his hand, he moved upward, between her breasts until it wrapped around her throat. It seemed automatic to lift her arm and wrap it around the back of his neck as he turned her face up to his. With fingertips grazing her chin and his thumb riding her jaw, he opened his lips over hers, his tongue exploring the recesses of her mouth, sending waves of arousal rippling through her.
At the end of the too short song, he didn’t release her, holding her clasped close, his touch firm and persuasive, inviting more. “Having fun?” he asked, only slightly breathless.
“Yes, sir.”
“The choice is yours then, a drink and more dancing, or we can go play, if you’re ready.”
Her brain cried stay, drink, dance where it’s safe, but she found her lips moving on their own accord. “Play, sir, please. I’m more than ready.”
His gaze met hers, the smoldering flame of desire she saw there making her pulses leap with excitement.
“ Moi aussi, ma petite. Let’s go.”
Chapter Eight
Butterflies took flight in her stomach as she looked around the room, asking herself for the hundredth time what she was doing here. Coming alone to a sex club was ballsy for her, going off to a private room for bondage games with a man she hardly knew was crazy. The fact that he was gorgeous, charming, and unerringly dominant, and also so sexy that a flash of his white teeth against his swarthy skin, or a heart stopping glance from his penetrating green
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