Darkest Desires

Everywhere I look, I find carnal scenes, making my heart beat fast in my throat. I wipe my palms on the material of my dress and order another white wine. The second glass helps steady my nerves and by the end, I’ve joined the bodies on the dance floor, enjoying the heavy bass and frenetic pace. Hands and bodies brush against me, so quickly that I can’t make out who they belong to. 

God, yes. This is exactly what I need. Time to blow off steam. A little fun to forget everything else I’m running away from. A moment of reprieve before I figure out what the hell I’m going to do next. 

A pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and large hands coast down my ribs to settle on the flair of my hips. They grip me with reassuring firmness, an anchor in the sea of bodies surrounding us. 

I peer through lids, heavily weighted with lust and excitement, to find a couple kissing passionately in front of us. Heat spears through me, violent and true. When the man draws his hands down and under the fluttery edge of my dress, I gulp deep breaths, but can’t seem to find my equilibrium. 

“Don’t think,” he whispers, his voice gruff in my ear. His breath tickles, entices, and I shiver against his hard length. “Just feel.”

And I do. I feel everything. From the fast racing pulse of the music, echoed by the thud of my heartbeat, to the searing flush of heat coating my skin, burning me from the inside out, to the raw tease of his whiskers on the curve of my neck. Behind me, his chest is firm and broad. Powerful. Strong. The kind of man who can overtake, overpower, and overwhelm you. I’m instantly, shamelessly wet. 

His hands delve higher, teasing the tender flesh of my inner thigh with the tips of his fingers, the edge of his nails. If he goes any higher he’ll no doubt find the evidence of my arousal. I refocus on the scene in front of me, trying to gain some handle on the wild spinning room and I notice the couple in front of us is no longer kissing. They’re watching, eyes glued to the hand underneath my skirt. 

I freeze against the stranger behind me, unsure if I should run to the exit…or let him continue. Based on my body’s response, I’d let him do a whole number of things. Anything he wants. 

And I want it. Isn’t that why I came here? To explore this side of me? The side frantic couplings in the dorms and endless nights of missionary never seemed to satisfy. 

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can move to a more private booth,” he says against my throat, his fingers still teasing my thigh. His voice is low, so low I have to strain to hear him over the pounding music. It’s secrets and sin, a dark silk colored with temptation. 

The first thing that comes to mind as I worry through my indecision is Mikhail. Which is all sorts of crazy. But his kind voice and troubled conversation was endearing. He’s exactly the sort of man I should be going after. A kind man who has his shit together. A good man. 

Just when I open my mouth to protest and pull away, the stranger behind me lifts his fingers to the strip of cloth framing my pussy and the words die a pitiful death in my throat. Surrendering, I twine my arms up and around his neck, pulling his warmth closer to my back. The woman in front of me smiles encouragingly, as both she and her partner watch the stranger’s hands play underneath my dress. 

“Do you want me to make you come?” he asks, his deft fingers slipping underneath the edge of my panties. 

My legs tighten around his wrist reflexively to keep from melting to the floor. His free arm wraps around my waist to keep me standing. Barely.

“Here?” I don’t know if I’d rather he whisked me away to a secluded corner, or if I want the anonymous couple in front of us to witness the erotic display. I’ve always loved being on stage, performing, but this takes it to the extreme. 

“If you want.” His fingers trace through my wetness. “We can stay right here. Let them see you.” When I don’t say anything, he continues, “You aren’t attached to anyone, are you?’

“No,” I manage, licking my lips and breathing heavily. Just hearing the word from his mouth is enough to make the word a moan. Master.

The fingers around my waist flex, and he exhales. “Would you like to be mine for the night?”

Hidden Identity, BDSM Club

Graphic sex, BDSM