Then it’s gone.
His pierced bottom lip drags slowly between his teeth.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice roughening in a way that sends heat straight through me. “That’s sexy.”
He sits up fully now, leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees, studying me like I’ve just become the most dangerous thing in the room.
Then he spreads his legs slightly and crooks his finger at me.
“Tell me more,” he says quietly. “Tell me exactly what you want, baby. You can have it. You can have it fucking all.”
The air between us shifts.
Thickens.
I walk toward him slowly, my pulse fluttering in my throat, and when I reach him he catches my hips and pulls me down onto his lap so I’m straddling him, my hands instinctively finding his shoulders.
“I want a drink,” I whisper, leaning closer, my hair falling around us like a curtain. “I want music so loud I can feel it in my ribs. I want you to pull me close and not care who sees. I want to forget everything for one night and just…move.”
His hands tighten on my waist.
“You think I won’t give you that?” he murmurs, his forehead brushing mine.
I shake my head, breathless but smiling. “I think you will.”
His hands are firm on my hips, steady and possessive, and I don’t move away from that hold. I lean into it, heat rising through my core. I know my cheeks are flushed.
“When the night ends,” I say slowly, my voice steadier than my racing heart, “I don’t want you to be gentle.”
His eyes darken.
I don’t look away.
“I want you to take me back here,” I continue, my fingers sliding up his chest, feeling the strength beneath the fabric, the power in him that has never once been turned against me. “I want you to look at me like I’m not fragile.”
His jaw tightens.
“You’re not fragile,” he says quietly.
“I know,” I reply. And that might be the boldest thing I’ve ever admitted.
I shift slightly on his lap, feeling him harden beneath me. I let it make me braver.
“I want you to love me,” I whisper, my lips brushing just beneath his ear. “Hard. Like you’ve been thinking about it all night. I want you to make me feel it. I want you to love me like you think it’s going to be our last time together.”
His fingers flex at my waist.
“Keep talking,” he murmurs, voice rougher now.
“I want you to take your time,” I say, breath unsteady but determined. “I want you to undress me slowly. Like you’re reminding me that my body is mine… and I’m choosing to give it to you.”
His forehead presses against mine.
“When you touch me,” I continue, softer now but fiercer underneath, “I don’t want you to hold back. I don’t want you to treat me like I’ll break. I want you to make me feel alive. Claimed. And…”
The word hangs between us.
“I want it all…right there…out on the balcony.”
