Throttled (Dirty Air 1)

Once the show finishes, Sophie and I get the

party started. Sophie bribes the DJ to let us behind his setup. She spins the turntables while I pick out songs from a playlist. We get a few people to bounce up and down, creating a small mosh pit at the center of the dance floor. I don’t think I’ve laughed any harder than I have with her.

A Bandini rep eventually pulls us away from the DJ area after we play our third reggaeton song. Apparently, it’s not well-suited for the elite crowd.

Two older guys ask us to dance and we agree. Not exactly my type but the haze of alcohol says yes for me as they pull us toward the dance floor. Sophie and I aren’t drunk. Only a little on the tipsy side, still managing to stay put together.

A crowd of dancing couples engulfs us. I dance around with a middle-aged man who has gelled-back hair and smells strongly of alcohol. My eyes search for Sophie between songs, but I can’t find her. The man’s hand creeps its way toward my ass at the same moment I conveniently step on his toes. Hard. He lets out a yelp while I fake an apology.

Music shifts to a classic salsa song DJs play at our clubs back home. A shadow looms over my dance partner. By now, I can recognize the reason for the tingle in my spine anywhere. Two months of resisting him does that. Strobe lights basking him in an ominous glow, my naughty knight in a shining tux sizes up my pervy dance partner.

“Mind if I cut in?” Noah’s irritated voice carries over the music. Or am I hearing things? Alcohol confuses my brain.

The man sputters out a reply as he lets me go. Noah grabs my hand while placing another at the dip in my back right above my ass. It feels way less invasive than my previous dance partner, like his hand should be there. Plus, Noah doesn’t smell like whiskey and old money. He needs to bottle up his scent and sell it on the mass market. I would buy a few bottles and spray it on my pillows at night, not creepily of course.

I smile at the idea. Real mature, Maya.

He shakes his head like he can’t believe the sorry state I’m in at the moment. He and I both.

I place a hand on his shoulder. His tux feels smooth under my fingertips, the strained material pressing against his muscles.

“I thought you were avoiding me because I haven’t seen you at any of the events this week.”

I think out my reply carefully. Well, as carefully as alcohol allows me to.

“Where did you learn to dance salsa?” Suave change of subject if I do say so myself.

His deep laugh makes me feel all warm inside.

“I lived in Europe long enough to pick up on it.” He sways us to the music.

A kernel of jealousy blossoms at the idea of Noah dancing with other girls.

“Hmm. Cool.” I feign indifference, but I can’t tell if I succeeded.

Noah turns me, pulling my back to his front. My ass presses against his crotch as his hand runs down my arm.

“Uh, we learned two different types of salsa. They didn’t teach me this in class.”

The rumble of his chest is the only response I get.

I look around, curious if anyone else sees this. My body molds into his. A crowd of people dances to the music, oblivious of Noah’s advances as his stiff cock presses against my ass cheeks. I press into him, unintentionally of course.

Sign me up for the next confession slot.

Turns out Noah seems into this back and forth, or lack thereof. He moves us along to the music. One of his hands presses on my hip, holding me flushed against him while his other hand pushes my hair away from my neck.

“Did you wear that color dress for me?” His husky voice makes my head swim. How can he tell what color my dress is when it’s dark outside?

“It’s navy. What do you mean?” Okay, it isn’t. But boys suck at knowing anything beyond basic colors.

“Hmm, weird. On your Insta story it looked like the same color as my eyes. But maybe I’m wrong, just seeing things.”

“That’s often a sign of narcissism. You should get yourself checked out when you have a chance. I don’t do everything to appease you.” Unfiltered words flow from my mouth.

He shuts me up by pushing his rigid length into me. I groan at the feeling, my body heating up at his boldness.

“Tell me you’re not affected by this connection between us.” His husky whisper sends a shiver down my spine. He trails a finger down the length of my throat to my collarbone, stopping right above my cleavage.