Trey Ch 08

We all decided that for Trey's last night with us before leaving, we'd take him out on the town; dinner and dancing. Or rather, the guys could dance – I surely wasn't going to. I'd never learned how, and not having any natural athletic grace, wasn't about to try now. While three people worked out how to economically share two bathrooms, we laughed and teased each other, ignoring that in less than 48 hours, Trey would head back to the East coast. Only he and I knew he'd be taking my heart with him. It took all my willpower not to cry when he brushed up against my back as I leaned into the mirror, applying eyeliner. His gaze met mine in the mirror, and I bit my lip – I ached to hold him, caress him, love him. He dropped a quick kiss on my shoulder, slipped his arm around me and slid a finger down my silver chain while looking at me intently.

He started to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of my husband's step in the hallway. How quickly we broke apart, Trey going to the linen closet to grab some towels, and me working on my makeup again. Telling me to hurry up and free up the bathroom, my husband yelled at Trey to toss him a towel, too. I scooted out of the way and finished my makeup in the dresser mirror, listening as the water came on in the guest bath, and visualizing in my mind as Trey slipped out of each piece of clothing. I mentally worshipped every inch of skin as he exposed it, wanting to touch and taste him again so desperately it was like a gnawing in my gut. I couldn't get enough of this man, nor did I want to.

Needless to say, Trey was on my mind as I dressed, too. With each article of clothing I picked out, I held it up and asked myself if it was something Trey would like, something that he would find sexy, something that would appeal to him when he saw it. Finally I had settled on an outfit for the night, one that made me feel as sexy sliding into it as I hoped to feel when Trey's hands slipped it off of me later. I was banking on the allure of my outfit, the bite of a few drinks, and the anonymity of being in public to incite my lover's lust to a new pitch. I wanted him to ache for me, to hold me during a slow dance and mimic what he intended to do to me later on in bed, and I wanted to be able to touch and caress him in public, in the legitimacy of a nightclub.

Finally we were all ready, and headed out the door. We took Trey's truck, it being his pride and joy as well as a testimony to his profession. We had a quiet, comfortable dinner, and although I ached to touch Trey in some way, we weren't afforded the privacy to do so in this setting. However, when my husband excused himself to use the restroom, Trey did discretely hold my hand and caress my fingers with his, telling me how sumptuous I looked, and how proud he was to be seen with me.

My husband came back before I could catch my breath, much less respond, but the warm flush of pleasure stayed on my cheeks throughout the remainder of our dinner. Finally we were off to the club. After having been in his company for a few hours without the benefit of being able to touch him, I was aching to feel Trey's skin under my fingers, in some way, shape or form. The simple, brief caress at the dinner table had made me crave more, made me ache to show the whole world how I felt about him. I wished I knew how to dance, so I could use that as an excuse, but at least I could have some slow dances with my man—providing the club played any.

We settled inside at a table near the wall, and Trey went to the bar for the first round of drinks. I tried to protest, seeing as how we were taking him out for a night on the town, but he insisted. When he brought our drinks back, I was pleasantly surprised to find that he'd picked out my favorite, a rich, fruity blend with just a touch of alcohol in it. It had been a long time since someone had paid such close attention to my tastes, and the knowledge of it sent a pleasing warmth skittering through me.

It wasn't long before Trey's fingers were tapping the tabletop in time with the rhythm blaring from the speakers. Catching his eye, I yelled that he should go hit the dance floor. Baffled, he leaned toward me, motioning that he couldn't hear me. I leaned forward, which he later explained did just what he'd hoped and gave him a perfect view down the front of my dress, and repeated myself. He nodded, and held out his hand. Tempted though I was, the music that was playing had a fast beat, something sure to make me trip in my high heels. Biting my lip, I shook my head at him, and motioned for him to go find someone to dance with. As much as I wished it would be me, I didn't feel it right to hold him back from something he enjoyed just because I was incapable of doing it.

Settling back, I surreptitiously watched my lover on the dance floor, his dark, athletic body a graceful sight to behold. My husband refreshed our drinks before heading out to the dance floor himself, knowing I preferred to people-watch anyway, which he found immensely boring. This privacy gave me ample opportunity to watch Trey without fear of it coming to anyone's attention, and watch him I did. Oh, how gracefully he moved, how fluidly he danced. I envied the woman he danced with,

all

the women he danced with, wishing I'd had the courage to get out there with him, to feel his hands on

my

hips, his fingers entwined with

my

fingers.

Biting back a moan of frustration for what I couldn't have, through my own choice, I sipped again from my drink, relishing that cool, fruity liquid sliding down my parched throat, remembering my recent taste of fruity liquid in a different manner as it slid down my lover's tongue before he kissed me. Shuddering, I reprimanded myself that this was surely no place to be having thoughts like that!

I watched Trey wander back to our table, unable to take my eyes off him. Sweat glistened on his brow and made the scent of his cologne roll over me like a bulldozer. My stomach quivered as I tried to control my need, but he didn't give me a chance to fight it. Snagging his glass, he took a long drink, then leaned over me and kissed me hard, driving his tongue into my mouth, along with the ice cube he'd swiped from his drink. Grinning at me as he pulled away, he swung his chair around, straddled it, and leaned toward me, saying that maybe the ice would help cool me down.

Two could play that game. With a quick look around to make sure that my husband wasn't watching, I popped the ice out of my mouth and slid it down the low neckline of my dress, between the alabaster swells of my breasts. My nipples instantly grew hard, pushing against the thin material covering them. In an instant the cube had melted, leaving me shivery and quivering in my seat. Trey watched all this, spellbound. With another quick look around, I pulled his head to me and kissed him hard, deep, fast, letting him taste the desire rampaging through me under my seemingly calm exterior. Pulling his hand to my breast, I let him ascertain for himself that I was braless under this shimmer of silk, all that pale skin there for the taking. Pulling back, I was infinitely pleased to hear him moan.

-You've

got

to get out there with me, he gritted through clenched teeth, discreetly adjusting himself under the table.

-I can't dance, I whispered, longing with all my heart to be one of those women who instinctively knows how to move to the music.

-Sure you can, he replied, stroking the back of my hand with his finger. If you can fuck, he grinned, you can dance. And I

know

you can fuck.

-Sorry darlin', I responded, achingly aware of all my faults in the face of this one, but unless it's a slow beat, I can't follow it – and even then, it's a gamble.

-You've got to, he whispered. He won't be in the bathroom forever, and I need to feel you in my arms, under my fingers, next to me. I want to hold you out there, where everyone can see, and no one will think a thing of it. I want to press you against me and stay that way, rub against you and think about other ways I want to rub against you. I want to hear you moan in my ear and know that I'm making you as wet as you're making me hard, and that we'll find some way to do something about that....

At his words, the picture he painted, my mind spiraled into a sea of images, many remembered, some imagined. I ached for his touch on me, his fingers caressing me, his body pressed to mine. But was I ready to show him just how hopeless I was on a dance floor? Chance that he'd laugh at me?

I looked up at him, emotions churning through my face. Without giving me time to voice my decision, he grabbed my hand and headed toward the dance floor, pulling me after him. Cutting across the edge of the floor, he slipped his way to the dj booth, and had a quick conversation with the guy in there, before turning me back to the floor. He pulled me out in the center and wrapped his arms around me as the music changed to a slow, simple beat.

Pulling me close, he whispered in my ear to just close my eyes and listen to the music, feel it flow over me, flow through me. He placed his hands on my hips, guiding me through some basic steps, his powerful thighs brushing mine through the various layers of our clothing. His hands caught mine, threaded our fingers together, before he slipped my arms around his neck, pulling me closer yet, then returning his hands to my hips. I felt every step and sway of his body intimately against mine, and felt mine responding in turn.

-Don't look now, I heard his voice rumble in my ear, but you're dancing.

Tilting my head back and smiling, I responded that I knew how to dance like this, sort of—at least enough to get by. It was the faster dancing that threw me. But this, I murmured, holding him close and letting him feel the quiver run through me, this suited me just fine, as I loved feeling his big, dark body against my white one, out here in the middle of it all, where no one gave it a second thought to see two bodies pressed so closely together.

With that Trey growled, and slid his hand into the low-cut back of my dress, letting the warmth of his palm burn against the smooth skin of my back, his fingers slipping under the fabric to caress me, laying claim to me for all who would care to look – although in this crowd, none would. I smiled and snuggled closer, feeling the incredible arousal of being touched so publicly by someone I loved so intimately. This could, indeed, be an addictive thing.

Much too soon, the beat changed again. With a whimper of dismay, I pulled from Trey's arms and headed back to my seat, but he caught my hand and whirled me back into his arms, catching me against his chest and smiling down at my upturned face.

-You're not getting away that easy, he grinned, setting me upright and once again working his hands onto my hips, twisting and turning them in motion with the music.

-Trey, I can't do this, I argued, panicked.

-Sure you can. Turn around – yeah, just like that, he murmured in my ear, settling me against him. Now just concentrate on my voice. No, no, close your eyes, he ordered, feeling me tense.

I closed my eyes, and tried to ignore the faceless crowd out there, all of whom could dance. I prayed they weren't watching my feeble attempts, or worse yet, laughing at me. Then I felt Trey's warm, comforting hand slide over my stomach and rest with his thumb between my breasts, and I stopped caring about anyone else. My breath hitched and my tummy quivered under his touch, and his warm chuckle let me know he felt my response, and liked it.

-That's it darlin', he whispered against my cheek. Just feel me touch you. Your body knows me so well, just let it respond like it wants to.

Wrapping his other hand around my waist, he held me tightly, hand grazing my hip, my waist, then back to my hip, soothing and exciting me at the same time. Tugging down gently on the fragile silk, he slipped his thumb over the slick material of my dress until he was skin to skin with the silk of my breasts, thumb buried in the soft, smooth valley between them. He moaned in appreciation as my nipples pebbled at his touch, reaching his long fingers around to cup the underside of me, both of us knowing that in an instant he could cover me fully, or slide his hand inside my top and slip me out, exposing me to anyone who cared to look. Either choice left me breathless and aching, and I blindly turned my head and tried to kiss this man who knew me so well.

To my dismay, he avoided my lips, looking deep into my eyes and explaining that he'd love nothing more than to kiss me right now, right here, in full view of everyone, claiming me as his. The meaning of his words and the feel of his hands tightening on both my hip and breast caused me to moan and tremble.

-But, he continued, my husband was out here on this dance floor somewhere too, and if we didn't want to give it all away, we were gonna have to keep it somewhat polite. He snuggled his face into my neck. Just know, he murmured, that when I'm holding you like this, touching you at all, that I want so desperately to touch you forever, to be able to kiss you anytime and anywhere, and know that you're mine. When you put this on, he finished, touching my dragon charm, that made you mine.

I stroked the back of his hand, entwining our fingers and looking deeply into his eyes.

-Darlin,' I was your long before you gave me this. But if this is what makes you think I'm yours, I'll never take it off. I love you, Trey.

Reading the truth and depth of emotion in my eyes, Trey groaned and buried his face in my hair. I felt him shudder, before he pulled slightly away and talked about dancing again. I understood – we surely didn't have the privacy for a heart-to-heart out here in the middle of this crowded nightclub. But I was glad he could see, glad he was finally beginning to understand the honesty of what I felt for him. As for myself, I knew I would have to make some choices soon, but they were becoming all too clear, and I was prepared for what lay ahead.

With a smile of purely feminine delight, I closed my eyes and leaned back into my lover, letting his words and touches control me, forgetting that we were on a dance floor, just listening and obeying the spoken and unspoken commands of one body so in tune with another. I don't know how he did it, but he had me dancing in ways that I never imagined my body could do, twisting and wriggling and shimmying and feeling undeniably sexy and wanton and sexual. I even loosened up enough to dance a turn with my husband, but it just wasn't the same, which even he commented on, saying that I was a much better dancer with his best friend leading me than with my husband leading me. Must be the advantage of having had ballet in the NFL, he teased. I weakly laughed in agreement.

As the night wore on, my husband danced and drank his way to oblivion, never really acknowledging the fact that his wife was actually out on the dance floor, or seeming to care that I was. I tried not to l let it bother me, and for the most part I was successful, especially those times when Trey held me close and moved me in time with the music. The songs got slower, the beat deeper, and I felt it in every part of my body as I rubbed and writhed against Trey. The last hour we were there, we never left the dance floor, or each other's arms. I was in heaven, being able to hold and touch and caress this man in so publicly intimate a way.

We knew we were going to have to go home soon, pull my husband off the table where he'd pretty much passed out, and return to my house and our separate beds. Neither of us wanted to go. Right before the last song Trey and I parted briefly, long enough for me to freshen up. When I returned to the dance floor, he had a cool, fruity drink waiting for me, and a passionate, soul-searing kiss that shook me to the core of my being with its intensity. This,

this

was what I ached to do every minute of the day, to show the world how I felt, how incredible this man was, and how incredible he made me feel. I wanted kisses like this to last forever. With a sigh our lips parted and I stared into his deep brown eyes, leaning against him and murmuring my love with the barest brush of my lips against his. His response was to kiss my cheek, my chin, my forehead, the tip of my nose, and then crush me against him and make my mind spin in time with his tongue in my mouth until I was gasping for air. Then, against my ear and directly into my heart, he told me that he loved me as well, and regretted all those years we'd spent apart, when we could have had this, instead.

My eyes welled, and I blinked fast, trying to keep them from overflowing. This man continued to touch me in ways I'd never thought possible, making me feel loved and cherished and appealing, things I'd not felt in so long, if ever. Knowing how close I was to blubbering all over him, he grinned and winked at me, deftly slipped the drink out of my hand, took a quick sip and set it on a table. He then whirled me back into his arms and finessed me out onto the dance floor again, making no attempt to hide the fact that what we were doing now was merely a precursor to the activity we'd be fully engaged in as soon as we got home. Wrapping those big, sexy arms around me, he held me tight, running his hands all over me, stroking and caressing me right there in plain view. He once again hooked his finger in the neckline of my dress, but this time he pulled and tugged until a goodly portion of my pale skin was completely exposed, right down to the nipple if anyone cared to look. I was so entranced by his touch, I didn't care if anyone looked or not.

As his thumb ran back and forth between those creamy swells of skin, I was running my fingertips up and down the length of his legs, scraping over his taut thighs, sleeking back down along the outside, each stroke carrying me closer and closer to the throbbing hardness I could feel pushing against me. I started to dip my knees, so I could rub my butt against him, dry-fucking him right there on the floor. With a growl he slid one hand inside my shirt, palming me, pinching and pulling on my eager nipple, making my back arch. His other hand slipped under the hem of my skirt, curving around my hip and sliding straight into my hungry, dripping pussy. His quick thinking and the placement of his dark lips on mine was the only thing that saved my scream from echoing throughout the nightclub as I came all over my lover's fingers, juice drenching him, my thighs and my stockings and making him shake with the force of wanting me.

Slowly, slowly I came back down from that incredible high that only he seemed able to give me, and was at once embarrassed and wickedly aroused at how public a display I'd just given. His hand was still buried between my legs and his hand was still cupping my breast, although in both cases, his flesh kept mine from being seen—but that just aroused me all the further, knowing my lover's touch was the only thing keeping me from being completely exposed to this room full of strangers.

Nibbling on my neck, he asked how I'd enjoyed that. What could I say? I'd loved it – loved being so exposed, being touched by him so intimately, being able to touch him just as intimately. He had opened me up to new ideas and new possibilities that I had never before considered – or wanted to. Turning to him, resting my head on his shoulder and caressing his sweet, dear face, I told him that I loved it almost as much as I loved him, and that I wanted this – and him – to never end. He captured my fingers, kissed them, and with our hands joined together, traced the sparkle of my silver chain, reminding me that I was his, just as he was mine.

-I've got something else for you know, he whispered, a devilish grin on his face. With a quick nod to the bartender to keep an eye on my husband, he kept his arms around me and walked me to a side door out of the club. We emerged into an alleyway, lined with brick and a few cars, and I felt my heartbeat quicken—this was just the scenario I'd recently fantasized with him about, being taken and used in just such a place.