“I wondered if you would let me dance with these other idiots all night and simply stalk me from the edge,” she continued. “Or if you would have the credence to show them all what they’re truly missing.”
“Not to show them what they’re missing,” he said as he leaned closer. Close enough, she felt his next words hit her. “To show them what you deserve.”
“And what would that be?” she managed.
He spun her once and caught her back and thigh before dipping her low. Low enough that Ana let her head extend when he paused them. Long enough that she allowed him full exposure of her neck, her chest… and when he brought her upright, they were so flush that air had escaped the space between. His nose lingered against her forehead, hand on her back squeezing at her waist.
“To be worshipped like the goddess of Death that you are,” he whispered against her skin.
Ana’s lips lifted. “Show me to him and make it official,” she whispered back.
Another twirl, and he caught her eyes when he led her into the next steps. The roaring fire muted in the background with the now echoing laughter of the people she’d mingled with just minutes before. His touch and gaze lulled her to the point that she did not have to tell her feet where to go. She was moving on air, on shadow, his hands caging her and holding her hostage to the sway of the music. And every time he spun and brought her back in, she swore they became closer. His head seemed to bend, making the heat nearly unbearable.
Their hands splayed flat against each other once, and he took his time enclosing his own around hers, tasting every second and watching their hands become one. Ana wasn’t sure how that simple act made her pussy ache. Maybe it was because she could see those fingers spread wide on her stomach, on her legs, on her breasts. The images were so vivid that the next twirl caught her off guard, but she didn’t stagger.
Warmth spread through her extremities to the depths of her stomach and between her thighs, and when he pulled her back in, Ana’s breath caught.
Ana had danced with plenty of men, but she’d never felt this. She’d never felt such arousal and tension from music and movement. She was entranced by the fire, the shadows, the rise and fall of his chest against hers. His breath tickling her skin. His hair falling into hers.
“Where did you learn to dance?” he asked, breaking her out of the daze.
Ana’s hand traveled from his chest to his neck as she pulled back slightly to see his eyes, her claw gently scratching his skin. “I should ask you the same, stalker,” she replied.
He chuckled under his breath. “Sam,” he told her. “My name.”
“I think I like stalker better,” she said, though it was a complete lie. She loved his name. Was prepared to plead his name. Perhaps even say it again as she killed him like she’d done so many other one-night stands.
“And yours?” he asked.
“I didn’t think you wanted my name,” she teased.
He smiled softly. “I decided I’d like to know the name of the woman responsible for keeping me up the rest of the night.”
“Planning a party with your hand already?” she couldn’t stop herself from saying.
That quiet laugh skated over her skin and rose goosebumps on her arms. “Maybe I am,” he said. “Or maybe…” He leaned closer to her ear. “Maybe I’d like to know what name to pray to from beneath you.”
Her lips lifted at the thought of riding his face, and her thighs tightened with the fantasy. “You can pray to whomever you want,” she said. “But when you beg, you’ll be begging for Ana.”
Something sparked in his brown eyes then. “Ana…” He said her name as though he were trying out how it tasted, to see if it was a name he could worship or if he’d have to call her something different.
But he spun her out once, faster this time, and another man grabbed her hand and pulled her into the circle before she could protest.
Reality hit her like cold water. She broke out of her haze, remembering where she was, and evenwhoshe was, as her feet moved quickly with the rest of the crowd. And when she looked over her shoulder toward where Sam had released her, she found him smirking at her, hands in his pockets.
Ana needed a cold shower.
She relaxed as she joined in the rest of the people for a couple of minutes, but her eyes kept darting around the darkness in search of him, but to no avail.
He had disappeared.
And yet, she could still feel his touch on her skin. Like shadows swirling and warping over her flesh, entwining with her curls, even whispering up her exposed thigh and between them. She blamed it on her vivid imagination, the entrancement of the festival, and the lingering brand of his touch on her skin.
Dirt bikes screeched over the asphalt in the direction of the bonfire. They circled the fire, going faster and faster, swirling the smoke up as they’d done earlier in the night. Ana and a few others paused to watch the black shadows mingle with the bright white smoke and reach for the sky.
A few people let out whistles and cheers at the sight of the shadows again, and Ana clapped a couple of times when the bikes sped off into the night.
One of the men she’d been near asked if she wanted to dance again, but Ana waved him off, smiling as she gave him a nod of appreciation, and then she turned to make her way to the bar again.
