by Jess Epps
She moves closer to me on the dance floor. I place one of my hands on her hip so every one of these assholes with a hard-on for her understands she’s with me. I start moving with her and before I know it, she’s turned around and dancing with her back up against me. She’s trying to damn well kill me. I move my hips in a circular motion to keep up with her and I know I’m grinning like an idiot.
I’m not sure if she knows what she's doing to me, but hell, it’s sexual.
I watch her grind her ass into me and I’m done. She’s got me as hard as I’ve ever been. My fingers dig into her hip and I pull her against me. I know I’m drunk, but I decide that I have to touch more of her. My hand slips from her hip, to her flat stomach. She doesn’t break for a beat as the song comes to an end. The DJ announces that we have thirty minutes to go until the New Year.
She throws her head back and leans against my chest as I run my hand over her dress. I can feel the amount of strength she has in her core from dancing all of her life, but hell, I know she can feel how much I have in my slacks.
Her tight ass is pressed against my dick and I swear she knows what she's doing. She's attracted to me or else she wouldn't be playing this game. I'm wanting my lips on her skin. She keeps rolling her head back against my chest, exposing her damp neck. If I have to watch her pull that strap up onto her shoulder again, I'm going to rip it off with my teeth. I don't want it on her. We're dancing without an inch between us and I watch as she's about to touch that damned strap again. I halt her hand and put it around my neck. Fuck it. I lean down and grab that strap with my teeth, tugging on it and pulling it down…exposing her bare shoulder, tasting it with my tongue.
I lean in and speak closely to her ear so she can hear me, “You’re suggestive as hell, Miss Lane.”
Her hand moves up into my hair; damn, it feels good. Inhaling her scent, I pull her even closer to me. I need to get her back to that booth. I want her alone, but I can’t stand the thought of not touching her.
I look up and see Coen giving me the thumbs up. Man, fuck off. Not now. I move my attention back to her as my hands are roving down her body’s natural curves, over her ass to the place where her dress ends. She hasn’t stopped my advances yet. In fact, I know she's been throwing out signals. Unexpectedly, she stops dancing and turns around. Sliding my hands up around her waist, I splay one against her lower back, ensuring I’m not intruding. If I just had the balls to lower my hand to her ass again.
"Can we get another drink?" she asks me with this sexy little grin.
“Yeah, let’s head back to the booth. If I remember correctly and it’s not the alcohol, I believe we ordered another round,” I say as I keep my hand at the small of her back while we walk through the throng of people.
Once we get back to our table, she reaches for her drink and I hone in on her lips again. She drinks about half of it before putting it down. I take a swig of my bourbon as my eyes roam her body. Before I know it, she's moving closer to me—so close that her bare thigh is pressed against mine. I look down and watch her cross one of her legs over the other, my fingers itching to touch her pale skin.
"I like the way you dance,” she says provocatively.
A growl escapes me when she moves her hair over to one shoulder, exposing her neck to me. “I’m glad I could keep up with a professional.” I take a chance of a lifetime and place my hand on her knee, impatiently running my thumb up and down her soft skin.
She scoots closer still and I can feel her leaning into me. Maybe it’s her perfume, but damn, I’m unbelievably horny right now—I need to connect with this woman. I watch her bring her hand up and start playing with the buttons on my shirt and I almost groan out loud. I’m a wreck with her around.
I want her to know that I want her. Even though I'm drunk—and I'm sure she is too—she needs to know before she leaves town. As painful as it is, I pull my eyes from hers and graze her jaw with my teeth. My left hand tips her chin up so I have full access to her neck. Her sharp intake of breath spurs me forward and my tongue darts out to taste her soft skin.
Christ, she smells so damn good. My dick is painfully hard and I want nothing more than for her to feel it, to feel what she does to me. As I lick up her neck, I can feel her pulse race and flutter against my tongue. She's trembling and her skin is too hot—a telltale sign of arousal. I'm pretty sure she's wet between those sexy thighs. I want those same thighs on either side of my head while I eat her out. I groan against her neck at the thought and suck briefly. Her chest is heaving and her hand moves to my thigh, digging her nails in. I want those nails scratching down my back. I'm mere moments away from slipping my hand under her dress and moving her panties aside. I want to know if I'm correct. I want to feel her pussy clench around my fingers. I want her to come on my hand...right here in front of everyone.
The speaker blares as an announcement is made. We have two minutes until midnight. Shit, where the hell has the past hour gone? I’m looking down at her fingers as the waitresses, in their tight little outfits, start passing out glasses of inexpensive champagne around the club.
One minute.
One minute, and I know that I can’t leave her in this year. I know that I’ll be holding onto every second I’ve ever spent with this woman. The big flat-screens in the VIP area light up with numbers, which are rapidly counting down to zero.
Her eyes follow the line of buttons up my dark shirt to my eyes. As the crowd starts to get rowdy, screaming and whooping envelop the room. The sound of champagne bottles opening one after the other fills my ears as people start shouting the countdown.
Ten.
I can’t keep my eyes off of her.
Nine.
She’s fucked with my head.
Eight.
I take her hand from my shirt.
Seven.
I lace my fingers with hers.
Six.
No words in the damn dictionary could fill the space between us.
Five.
My mind is racing.
Four.
I have no idea what is happening between us, but I don’t want this countdown to end it.
Three.
This feels right.
Two.
She’s my New Year’s resolution.
One.
Everything in the room goes quiet. All I can hear is white noise as balloons and shiny shit start falling from the ceiling. My world has come to a standstill and the spinning has stopped. I hesitate, unsure of her reaction.
Fuck it.
Impatiently, I slide my hand up her neck then behind her ear. I tangle my fingers in the loose strands of hair that fall to her shoulders. I’m ultra-aware of my heart pounding in my chest. There’s a thudding at the back of my ears, which I’m certain is not from the alcohol.
There is no order to my movement, but there is an exciting mix of improvisational chaos and want that I need to fill, as we both move in. I press my lips against hers gradually. I tease the seam of her lips with my tongue and once her lips part for me, I’m tenderly biting, sucking on her, as our tongues intertwine and move sensuously against each other’s. Her tongue expertly strokes mine while our heads dance from left to right, over and over, both of us trying to get closer, deeper. Wanting to taste more of each other. My cock jerks in my slacks as she presses her chest against mine. Her nipples are perked up and pushing against me.
Hell, she tastes like pineapples, raspberries, and champagne. I fucking want her.
I’m keeping her.
Heather
I’M TRYING TO think back to what paved the way to this kiss. My lips are locked with the sexiest man in this club, and the music is booming around us as our lips move to our own rhythm. I’ve seen how all the women look at him and chase him around the club—some have literally been following him. I’ve looked past the fact that I know nothing about him—just his name, and now his lips.
I have nothing to lose. He kisses me gently, like I’m something to be treasured. I can’t seem to get clo
se enough to him as I lose myself in his fervent kiss. I whimper against his lips as he tugs on my hair. I’m gasping for breath, but I don’t want to stop this kiss. He’s been laying small touches on me all evening, but this is by far the best.
My body is reacting to him so fiercely. I want him to get this form-fitting dress off of me. I whimper against his lips when someone slams a hand on the table. I pull away and stare up at this stranger who just ruined this most perfect moment.
“Nice fucking catch, dipshit!” an intoxicated man in a bright blue button-down says.
Noah actually growls at his blonde-haired acquaintance. “Get lost, Coen. I’m busy.”
“You’re really not going to introduce me to this fine piece of ass?” He gestures toward me.
Noah straightens up as if he’s ready to kick this guy’s ass, and I can’t help but giggle in my semi-drunken state. “She’s much more than a fine piece of ass. Apologize, you fucker.”
Coen raises his eyebrows and takes a step back. “You chode. Shit. My fucking apologies…?”
He looks at me with a questioning look. Oh. He’s waiting for me to tell him my name.
“Heather. It’s nice to meet you, Coen,” I say as I hold out my hand to shake his.
His eyes fall to my breasts and I feel like covering up. I don’t want him to look at me like that when Noah is right here. He smirks and says, “You know, you’re the first chick I’ve seen this dipshit kissing while we’re out. I’ve known him going on seven years now. There’s got to be some big catch about you, Heather.”
“Coen, go get those damn blondes and get your dick wet. I’ll text you later.”
Oh my…he’s bossy, too. “Bye, Coen,” I croon.
“Fuck you too, man. See ya, sweet cheeks,” he says with a wink.
Noah shakes his head and chuckles. “Sorry about that. What do you say we get out of here?”
“I’d like that. A lot. Probably too much,” I say, as Coen walks away trying to give Noah the blow job signal with his hand and tongue prodding his cheek.
He looks down at me to ask, “Are you with that guy from the show? I wouldn’t want to be stepping on any toes, so to speak.”
I quickly shake my head no, letting him know that there’s no one else.
“Good. Let’s get some food in you. Is breakfast all right with you?” he inquires.
I nod, probably a little more enthusiastically than necessary. I'm jumping up and down inside; I don’t want this night to end at midnight. This Cinderella needs more time with her Prince. Watching him stand up to his full height, I give him my hand when he reaches for it and I’m more than eager to touch him again. But also immediately I try talking myself out of this.
Simmer down, Heather...this is just a fling for him. You really can’t believe what Coen said. You weren't born yesterday. That was his wingman. He's simply following the Guy Code Rules.
But I'm drunk and hungry and he's...oh so yummy. I think I might break all of my rules tonight. So I say, “Good idea. Is there anywhere open around here this late?” I almost fall as I step out from the booth, but even in his drunken state, Noah catches me. When he touches me, my skin almost burns. I’m so hot for this Greek god.
“Careful now, beautiful,” he says as I hold onto his biceps to stabilize myself.
I may have just taken my last breath. His term of endearment throws me for a loop and I’m seriously thinking of letting this man do whatever he wants with me. I giggle and squeeze his tanned, muscular arm, sizing him up. "I'm blaming you for getting me drunk," I joke.
He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine as he leads me out of the club. “I’ll take the blame for it. Now I’ve got to right my wrong, and get your little ass sobered up.” He hails a cab and we get in. He tells the driver to go to Vento Diner in Scottsdale.
“We’re going to Scottsdale? Why don’t we stop somewhere in the city center?” I ask.
“I think you’ll like this place. I’ve been going to it ever since I can remember.”
Pursing my lips, I eye him playfully and deviously ask, "Noah? Are you taking me to Chuck E Cheese?" Suddenly realizing that he hasn't seen any side of me other than drunk or quiet, I burst out into a fit of drunken giggles and lean into his shoulder while I laugh.
His chest vibrates as he laughs with me.
Would he mind if I bit him? I just want to sink my teeth into him…anywhere. Lick him, bite him, suck on him—anything that involves my mouth on that darkly tanned skin of his.
“No, that would be the complete opposite actually; I’ve never been there. And when the hell did you become so talkative? I thought your vocabulary consisted of yes, no, maybe, and ballet terms.”
“Ah! I have a wider vocabulary than you know,” I say as I lean back against the taxi’s door and move my feet onto his lap.
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
He looks down at my feet and raises his eyebrow in question. "Pink, huh?" I notice his voice sounds deeper…thicker. I wiggle my pink toes as they peek through my glittered heel. "I love pink!" I watch him slowly lift my foot using the tip of his finger, cocking his head to the side as he eyes my 'Sammy Red Bottoms.' I let out a laugh because I can't take it anymore. "Shoe fetish, Noah?"
I put my foot back down on his hard thigh, wanting to get rid of my shoes and run my toes all the way up to the prominent bulge in his pants.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I’m open to many things.”
Oh my.
“Pink drink, pink toes, and pink lips? I think I’m noticing a theme here, ballerina.”
I smile sweetly. "You’ve figured me out already. Am I that obvious?" Feeling the cab come to a stop, I gracefully slide my feet off his thigh and sit up. Quickly grabbing my clutch, I throw a twenty-dollar bill at the driver before hopping out with a giggle. Drunk and mischievous Heather has come out to play. I laugh when I hear his protests from the car.
He grumbles and says, “You’re seriously not going to let me pay for the damn cab? Shit,” he says as he gets out. “Breakfast’s on me. I’m sure you can’t scarf down one of their breakfast plates here. You’re too damn little.”
“Don’t let my size fool you, Noah.” Oh he does not know what he’s in for. I can put down some food. We walk into the diner and he just goes and sits down at a booth like he owns the place. “The sign says ‘please wait to be seated,’” I call out after him.
He looks at me with the most sex-stimulating grin on his face and replies with a wink, "Don't you worry, little ballerina. I've been here a time or two."
Oh my God, I want to do something naughty to this man.
I quickly join him at the booth and take a seat across from him. The waitress walks up to us with the biggest smile on her makeup-plastered face.
“Noah!” she sings, and he gets up to hug her.
Oh no you don’t. I call dibs on this Greek god. Let go, hussy.
He sits down and orders two ‘Ryan’s Breakfast Feast’ plates for us. I haven’t even glanced at the menu, but I think it’s kind of sweet that he ordered for me. “I’ll have orange juice too, please,” I add quickly.
I'm still drunk and my brain is fuzzy, so my judgment is impaired, and I tend to say what is on my mind, whether it’s a good idea or not. I lean forward after the waitress leaves and I whisper playfully, "Noah?"
He rests his elbows on the table and looks at me, “What is it, ballerina?” He takes a drink of his water while his eyes move down to my breasts.
It excites me that he's looking at me like that, and I smile when he calls me that again. It sounds so good coming from his lips. His lips...Mmm. My eyes flicker to his lips and I get distracted, thinking about our kiss. God, his lips are immaculate.
"Heather?" I hear him urge. Busted. I quickly regain my focus on his eyes. Oh crap, was I staring?
"Huh? Oh. Did you order bacon?"
“Bacon? Hell, is that even a question? Breakfast isn’t breakfast without bacon, woman. Wait. Are you a vegetarian?” He
looks alarmed.
I decide to take a little risk. I get up and move to his side of the booth, making him scoot over on the seat so I can sit closely next to him.
I choke out a laugh. “A vegetarian? Uhm, no," I answer with a grin. "I'm just making sure you ordered enough because I plan on eating mine as well as yours."
“Oh yeah? We’ll see who wins this bacon battle.”
“Mmhmm”
“How about I make a deal with you?”
A deal? Oh this better be good. “That depends on what’s at stake.” I move my hair to one side of my shoulders.
“Those lips. Give me those lips again and I’ll give you my bacon.”
My jaw drops.
I think I might be hearing things, but he’s waiting for an answer. Screw butterflies: my stomach is doing somersaults.
YES! I shriek internally. Our eyes meet. "Right here?" I ask, because I don't trust myself with just an innocent kiss. After feeling his lips on mine earlier, what I want to do to him right now is rather illegal in public.
He tilts my chin up with one finger. My body shudders and my sex clenches, “Right here. I don’t see anything wrong with kissing you.”
Then his lips are on mine, taking his part of the deal. Taking all of my thoughts and jumbling them up. I nip his lip with my teeth and he groans then pushes his tongue into my mouth. He’s so sure of himself. He’s running his tongue over my teeth, making me wet…Oh my! That was so hot! Our tongues tangle together again as he occasionally sucks, which sends me reeling.
I am wet. Dripping. These panties won’t last long if he keeps this up. I can't get close enough to him. Somehow, my hand blindly finds his button-up shirt and I grip it, holding onto him for dear life. If anyone tries to ruin this kiss for me, I won't be held responsible for my actions.
He tastes so delectable. I inhale deeply, trying to get a sufficient amount of air into my lungs, not wanting to pull away for anything. My tongue is twirling against his when I whimper into his mouth and feel his hand slide up my neck.
