Ladies’ Night

by Unknown

  Rahel said, “Ah, yes. I see you comprehend my point. Such tales never end happily.”

  “Ours will.”

  “I admire your determination, if not your objectivity.” She drank the rest of her champagne in a single gulp. She stood up, shimmying her hips to get all her chiffon ruffles in place. She was impossibly tall, impossibly gorgeous, and she held out her hand to me. “Come.”

  I frowned at her. “Where?”

  “To dance.”

  Her hand felt dry and hot in mine, and she led me out through the VIP doors and into the madhouse of the dance floor, of people moving and swaying together. Cherise was dirty-dancing with Fredo, looking absolutely beautiful, rapt and ecstatic in the moment. Fredo was looking like the experience was approaching rapture for him, too.

  Rahel’s hand slipped out of mine, and the lights and music spun me around, and I felt the pulse building inside of me. I saw her moving in an alien, sinuous rhythm, dancing with no one and everyone, and then Fredo turned to me and included me in the dance, and I felt my body taking over, reaching for that elusive moment, that connection that tied us all together in that moment.

  The music threaded its way through my ears, through my body, and spun me around in a frenzy of lights and passion.

  I stopped, because at the edge of the dance floor stood a dark shape, unmoving, facing me. Light flickered and caught his face, highlighted the intensity of his stare and the beautiful face. David had left off his glasses, and traded in his plain clothes for a soft, matte-black shirt and tight black leather pants.

  My breath left me in a rush.

  Neither of us moved for a moment, and then he walked slowly toward me, and just as I’d imagined, the crowd parted in front of him. He came closer, closer, until our bodies brushed together. He leaned down to put his lips close to my ear, and said, “I know it’s your night out with Cherise, but – “

  I grabbed the collar of his shirt and kissed him. He tasted like caramel and rum, and I wondered if he’d been drinking. If he had, it looked fantastic on him.

  “Dance with me,” I said.

  His body fit in with the curves of mine. We kissed again, slowly, deeply, and then his hand found the hollow of my back and I bent backward, relying on his strength to support me as my hair brushed the floor. He lifted me sharply, hard against him, and my right leg lifted of its own accord and wrapped around the back of his thigh. Holding him there. Our eyes were inches apart, and his were burning. Incandescent even in the flaring, uncertain light of the club.

  He made a low, rough sound in the back of his throat, and I felt his hand move lower, pressing my hips closer against his. His breath pistoned hot against my neck as I rotated my hips, gently at first, then in widening, provocative circles. We were pressed together, every muscle trembling and full of tension, humming like two halves of a circuit. Our lips were close enough to touch, but we didn’t kiss. I slid my hands down the slick, warm leather of his hips. The heat inside me had built to a bonfire, flushing my cheeks, my lips, glowing right under my skin.

  I turned my back to him, and oh, yes, that was good, there was absolutely no disguising how aroused he was right now. I rubbed slowly up and down against him, and felt his hands wrap around my hips to pull me breathlessly close. He kissed my neck, feather-light, and I felt myself go weak against him. His hands were so hot they seemed to burn through the thin barrier of cloth to sear their imprint directly on my skin. As incredible as it seemed, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t take much for either one of us to climax right here on the dance floor, in these moving, liquid shadows.

  Magic, Rahel had called it. And ritual.

  “Jo,” David whispered. Voice lower now, deeper in his throat, a purr like velvet on her skin. “Turn around.”

  I did, never moving away from him, and we were so close all that held us separate were our clothes and some last vestige of sanity. His hands left my hips, slid up between us, and left trails of heat where they touched. His lips were touching mine now, not quite a kiss, an unbearable tease for both of us. “Having fun?” he asked. Despite the constant driving beat of the music – the deafening beat – I could hear every suggestive nuance of what he said.

  “You’re kidding.” My voice was uneven and out of control. “Not sure fun quite covers this.”

  Another low-in-the-throat, amused rumble, subsonic and audible to me mainly through the vibration in my skin. His lips moved down the column of my throat, and he knew just where to focus their heat where I was most needy, most vulnerable. I felt a tremble building inside, a crescendo that followed the building climax of the music. His teeth scraped along the tender line of my throat, and I pressed harder against him, out of breath and wild and vibrating right out of my skin. I caught sight of Cherise laughing, whirling in the arms of the tall, gorgeous Fredo, and Rahel, dancing an ancient sensual rhythm, face alight and exultant in the strobing flashes of color.

  Ladies’ night.

  I could get used to this.