Chapter 8 #3
The idiot I told to back off comes out of nowhere and knocks me off my feet.
I hit the floor, and he comes at me again, but I lunge at him, dropping my shoulder into his waist, driving him back.
He lands a fist in my side and swings for my head as I stand.
I duck, then smash him with a hook in his jaw that rocks his head back and forces him to take three unsteady steps into the crowd.
Georg suddenly appears with one of the bar staff. They each grab one of the guy’s arms and pull him off the dance floor. ‘Calm it down, Clark, or you’ll have to go,’ Georg shouts above the music.
I hold up a hand and nod, my other arm wrapped around my waist.
‘Have you lost your mind?’ Dayna screams at me.
I grab her by the wrist and drag her off the dance floor, down a corridor that leads to the toilets, tugging her into the solitude of an alcove. ‘I have lost my mind. Over you.’
She steps back until she’s flush to the wall, her hungry eyes telling me to meet her.
I waste no time in pressing my mouth against hers.
Despite what her eyes are telling me, she pushes me back with more force than she ought to have, and her hand swipes straight across my cheek with a sting.
I stand dead on the spot, blinking, sobered.
She said she’d do it. She warned me what would happen if I tried to kiss her again.
That she followed through on her threat makes me want her more.
She says nothing but takes a breath that lifts her chest, her breasts pulling her dress taut across them. And she inches closer to me, heavy, hooded eyes fixed on mine as she nods subtly, slowly. She wants this as much as I do.
I take her wrists slowly, giving her a chance to change her mind, praying she won’t.
I pin them above her head when she doesn’t.
And when her gaze falls to my mouth, her own lips parting, I kiss her again.
I wait, counting down nanoseconds that feel like an eternity.
Finally, she opens her mouth and groans into me, her tongue reaching out to mine.
No memory could live up to the feel of her, the taste of her.
I get lost in her, forgetting where we are.
I let go of her wrists and hold her face in my palms as she runs her fingers through my hair, gripping tightly as our mouths move faster, our tongues deeper.
I run a hand down her body, her curves fitting exactly into the span of my hand.
As I round the globe of her arse, she flexes her pelvis against me and must feel my erection against her. Jesus, it’s good. So fucking good.
A guttural sound leaves my throat and matches her moan as her body begs for more.
She tightens her fist in my hair and bites my lip, leaving me with no doubt that she’s in this, too. I shift my body to shield her from anyone passing by the alcove and slip my hand under her dress, climbing her thigh, then the soft flesh of her arse.
‘Clark, not here,’ she whispers into my mouth. But she doesn’t stop me. Instead, she increases the intensity of her mouth over mine and the roll of her body against my crotch. I have to make her come. I need to see how much she still wants me, too.
I slide my hand to her centre, cupping her over her thong, waiting for a response. Her back arches, giving me permission. I push my fingers past the delicate fabric.
‘You want me,’ I tell her as I draw my fingers through her slick lips. ‘You’re so fucking wet for me, Dayna.’ My cock is painfully hard. I want to strip her down right here and drive my dick into her until she’s full of my come.
She bites harder on my lip, fighting herself, I think.
I know the feeling; body, heart and head pulling in different directions.
I know the frustration she’s feeling, and I let her bite me and pull my hair, whatever she needs, because I want to see her orgasm.
I want to remind her how I can make her feel.
I thrust two fingers inside her warm, wet sex and relish the sound of her groan: carnal, desperate.
She drops her head to my shoulder and bites down through my shirt as I work my fingers against her inner wall, stroking her G-spot.
I remember exactly how she feels, how she likes it, as if we were never apart.
I press my lips to her neck over and over, absorbing her scent and the taste of her skin I’ve missed so much.
I move my thumb to her clit and circle it, driving my fingers deeper into her, feeling her press back against me, trying to take more.
She pushes her thigh harder against my crotch as her insides start to clench.
She’s close, and so am I, without even being inside her.
The promise, the memories, the sound of her desire take me to the edge.
‘Come for me,’ I beg into her ear. I need her to climax otherwise I will.
She lifts her head and kisses me fiercely as her muscles start to pulse.
She comes around me, her pleasure running down my fingers.
She whimpers into my mouth, and I have to hold everything still.
I stop kissing her, take my hand back and lean my forehead on hers, my eyes closed, forcing back my own orgasm.
‘I want you in my bed,’ I tell her through gritted teeth.