The music throbbed, the strobes flashed, and he watched her. He loved to watch her dance, the primal way she threw herself into the music. She danced so uninhibitedly, so sexually, that she often made him hard just thinking about it. The lights flashed and flared across the curves of her body, coloured beams playing across her waist where it flared into her generous hips, and the denim stretched tight across her backside. He watched her flirt with the boys dancing around her, her mouth curved in a seductive smile, her hips sliding to the music. Her breasts moved freely under her backless black top, and gold glinted at her wrists and neck. The lyrics to the song ran through his mind, and he smiled wryly.
"You know you want it, the thing that makes me, what the guys go crazy for...they lose their minds, the way I whine. I think it's time."
He flared with pride and desire, seeing how the men wanted her. They could never have her. She was entirely his. She writhed to the music, knowing he was watching, sliding her hands down her body, knowing his eyes burned over her. She spun, flicking her gaze in his direction, and gave a little smile before going back to dancing, tempting him.
The men around her were entranced – her tawny skin and golden hair made her seem like some exotic confection that would melt in their mouths. Her uninhibited air drew people like flies, and her compact curved figure made her seem somewhat innocent. He watched as one of the men reached for her, and smiled and waited to see what she would do. She wasn't averse to being touched while dancing, but he knew that generally she wouldn't let anyone touch her if he was watching.
Unless she was in a cheeky mood, he observed as she ground her backside against the groin of the man that reached for her. His anger and desire flared, and he knew he would have her begging tonight. He considered their surroundings and thought that perhaps he'd have her right here. He grinned darkly as his imagination filled out the scenario, and she glanced at him to see if he'd been watching, just in time to catch the grin. He could tell the instant she realized what was on his mind – her legs nearly buckled beneath her, and she shook her head, trying to clear it. Once recovered she cocked her head amusedly and strutted arrogantly across the dance-floor away from him, moving to the beat of the next song. She was provoking him, and she knew it.
He watched the muscles of her back move as she pressed herself against a man on the dance floor, rubbing her breasts against him, and his eyes narrowed. She was really asking for it. She glanced over her shoulder at him, licking her lips and watching for a reaction. She gave him a cheeky grin, but visibly quailed when she saw his frown.
The movement of her hips slowed as she waited to see what he would do, still watching him over her shoulder as she danced. He walked over to a booth, sat down on the padded bench, crooked his finger and pointed to the ground at his feet.
She shivered, suddenly aware of just how much she had provoked him, heat racing through her veins as her nerves remembered. She hurried over to him, abandoning her dance partners, all her former arrogance forgotten. She sat on the floor at his feet, not quite kneeling, but still sitting unusually enough to draw curious glances from people around her.
He rested his hand on her head, feeling her trembling, and his blood flamed. He knew that only part of that trembling was fear – she had known exactly what she was doing on the dance-floor. He touched her hair gently, twining its caramel strands around his fingers, stroking her ear and neck. She leaned into his touch, her liquid eyes watching him intently. His thumb stroked down across her cheek, rubbing her bottom lip. She looked out from under her eyelashes at him, demure now, and gently parted her lips, her tongue flickering over the tip of his thumb. She looked at him for confirmation and he nodded, and she sucked his thumb further into his mouth.
Her face flamed with her arousal and her embarrassment – she knew that people were still watching her, but didn't dare disobey. She thought she had already provoked him to punishment past the point she would enjoy, and she was afraid. Not really afraid, for he'd never truly damage her, but if he chose he could torture her for hours, with pain and pleasure...never giving her fulfillment. He'd do it for days if he wanted, if she didn't beg prettily enough to satisfy him.
