I froze, my body tightening, the scent of him moving all around me. I remembered the way he smelled as we’d danced at the club just two nights before. I remembered his body pressed against mine, of his heat seeping into my skin.
And although he wasn’t touching me right now, I still felt his hands on me as if we were back on the dance floor, moving, allowing myself to experience something extraordinary for the first time.
I was about to turn around when a hand curled around my throat from behind, and then my body was spun around and pressed against the wall. The air left me violently, and adrenaline spiked in me. Not from fear, not from pain, and not because I couldn’t breathe… because although the hand was still around my throat, it was simply a heavy presence, not a suffocating collar.
No, I felt this way because I was unbelievably turned on.
I looked up and up and up again until I could stare into the blue eyes of the mystery man from the other night. His presence was still so consuming, his body so big, his shoulders so broad that I could see nothing behind him.
The shadows in the hallway were cloaking us, making everything seem hazy, a little distorted. I felt as if I was in a dream, my body taking the forefront, all logical and rational sense and thought completely leaving me.
This was why I’d come tonight.
This was the reason.
He made me feel alive, and he hadn’t said one word to me, had barely touched me. My pulse raced beneath his hand, between my thighs, and as if he read my thoughts, maybe felt the frantic thump-thump, thump-thump, his fingers tightened marginally on my throat at the same time he lowered his head toward me.
My eyes fluttered, any kind of control I had completely vanishing. I was wet, my panties soaked and sticking to my folds, my nipples aching as they pressed against my top.
Our breathing was equally frantic, identical respirations as if we’d both run a marathon, finished at the same time, and could do nothing but draw air from the other to fill our lungs.
He didn’t speak, and I didn’t know why his silence was insanely attractive. I wanted to hear his voice though. I knew it would be deep, so deep it would touch every part of my body.
My pussy clenched as I imagined him whispering filthy things against my ear, telling me all the dirty things he’d do to me. I moaned softly, unable to hold in the sound.
His body tightened against mine as if hearing the noise affected him on a physical level. I opened my eyes, not realizing I closed them. And as I stared into his face, I swore his eyes glowed red, felt like the color lit up the entire back hallway. I told myself it was a trick of the lights, neon flashes from the main part of the club that pierced the sensual darkness that covered us.
I couldn’t speak right now if my life depended on it. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move as I watched him come even closer, his scent surrounding me until I was drowning in it.
The sensation of his hard body flush with mine, the definition of his muscles against my softness, had slickness pooling between my thighs at an embarrassing rate and consistency. And I swore he could smell my desire as he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring, a low rumble leaving his chest and vibrating mine.
He was so close now, our faces only an inch apart, our gazes locked. We were both panting, his hand still curled firmly but loosely around my throat, his thumb stroking right under my ear, where my pulse point was.
He was all but holding me up, my legs like pudding, my knees slightly trembling. And when he trailed his lips along my cheek, I let my eyes close and my head rest back on the wall. Another rumbling, deep sound left him; this one I knew without a doubt was from pleasure.
And when he pressed his body even tighter against mine, I took note that I was so much smaller than him, half his size and weight, that I felt breakable. And when his monstrous erection dug against my upper belly, I wasn't even embarrassed by the desperate and shocked sound that left me.
I was stunned at the size of him, a huge, long, and thick length that he ground against me as he rolled his hips back and forth. It was such a dirty, filthy act I was allowing a stranger to do in the dark hallway of a nightclub.
But I couldn’t stop myself. It was too good and right, as if I’d been missing out on everything that was meant to be mine.
“This isn’t right,” I said, but the words sounded wrong spilling from my lips. His deep chuckle wasn’t one of amusement but a very dark promise, as if he knew it was futile to try to stop this from happening between us. Whatever this was.