Page 127 of Speak No Claim

Her hips continued to sway side to side in a controlled, steady movement. She slowly spun in a circle, her skirt bunching, showing off all of her ass now.

I growled, enjoying the fucking view.

Lifting the candle, she lit that too, moving her hand all around her, the flame following her trail. The light caught her face, making her smile for me.

In three seductive strides, she stopped right in front of me.

“Your turn.”

I shook my head. “I don’t dance.”

“I don’t need you to dance. I need you to put my fire out.”

Not understanding what she meant, she handed me the candle before turning around.

“Préndeme la vela, Onyx.”

She was telling me what the lyrics ordered to turn on her candle. It was only then I noticed the white cloth was tucked into her skirt and hanging down below, closer to the back of her thighs, and I thought she’d lost her mind.

“It’ll burn you.”

“Only if you don’t put it out first.” She beamed. “I trust you.”

Feeling reluctant, I did as instructed, lighting the cloth on fire. Instantly, she bent her knees, so the fire was farther away from her skin as the fire crackled beside us.

The drums grew louder, faster, filling the silence all around us. She moved in front of me, dancing with precision, with the fire now between us. All I could see was her; all I could feel was her.

The music continued, the fire getting higher on the cloth, but her hips never stopped moving, causing the fire to never get close enough to burn her. This wasn’t the first time she was dancing this, and it kind of pissed me off.

What man is putting out the fire in Peru?

She read my mind, baiting, “The tourists put out my fire, Onyx. What are you going to do about it?”

I growled again, reaching to put it out with my bare hands, but she quickly danced away from me. She wanted me to chase her, and it was still one of my favorite things to do.

The fire grew, and I followed her, trying to put it out to no avail. She was too fast, too skillful, never looking like she didn’t know what she was doing in such a sinful and delicious way.

She rocked her hips, swaying her body and working me into a fucking frenzy until finally, I got behind her and started moving my hips in line with hers, the fire now between us.

She celebrated, leaning her head back against my chest. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

“This isn’t dancing. It’s fucking with clothes on.”

Wiggling her eyebrows, she teased, “Jealous?”

The voice on the song kept singing, “Burn her, burn her, burn her.”

My cock twitched. We rotated in a slow circle, our hips in sync with each other, the fire getting closer and closer to her ass cheeks.

This was a dancing ritual between us, and I fucking loved her for that.

With no direction, I dropped to my knees and put out the fire with my bare hands. Her breath caught, realizing what I’d just done.

She rasped, “No one’s ever been able to do that.”

With that, I yanked her toward me as if I were a possessed man. This was such a feral moment between us. I’d never experienced anything like it.

Our own little ritual, one that she was teaching me.