Beautiful Storm (5 page)

Lizzie.

Alone.

And the smile she wears makes me want to claim her, here and now, on the dance floor.

For a few moments, I take in every movement her body makes while she’s lost in the music. The flex of her calves, the sway of her hips, the way a lock of hair trails down her neck. My cock swells as thoughts of those same hips moving aggressively against mine flood my mind. I’m drawn nearer, wanting to touch. My fingers tingle with the need.

The music alters, bringing her out of the trance she was in. I move even closer, drawn to the curves of her tits straining against her dress. She lifts her head and wipes away the hairs stuck to her face. Her gaze wanders the area looking for something, someone, before her eyes meet mine.

Well, I’m
fucking
it. She’s having me—every fucking inch. I’m only a few feet away, but the sudden desire in her eyes glows brighter than the strobe lights. It’s all the invitation I need.

Without speaking, she takes my outstretched hand, and I pull her into me. Her scent fills my senses, a heady combination of what can only be described as sunflowers mixed with the fresh smell of rain. Her hitched breath grazing across my neck has my half-mast cock hard within seconds. I keep a firm hold on her hand, place the other on her lower back, and press her against me. Every inch moulds into my body. A perfect fit. Her tits press against my chest, and I swear I can feel how hard her nipples are through my shirt.

Small fingers wrap around my bicep, while mine graze across her damp, silky skin, as we sway to the music. Her head drops onto my shoulder. Each breath she takes grazes my neck, sending shudders through my taut body. Hard as stone, my cock presses up against her hip, as she rocks against it. The sensation of her body moving close to mine pushes me almost to the point of no return. My pulse increases, thundering through my ears louder than the music, and the urge to mark her as mine takes hold.

The song changes and she pulls away. My whole body protests at her loss. She examines my face as I wrap my fingers under her chin—asking for permission without words. Asking her to let me claim those fucking lips as mine. Her chest rises and falls; she’s as breathless as I feel. But the desire in her eyes splutters to a stop, and a startled expression crosses her face. My hand falls away from her.

She mouths, “I’m sorry,” before she turns on her heels and runs away through the crowd. I’m left standing in the middle of the dance floor, with a raging hard-on, wondering what the fuck just happened.

A random girl bumps into me and rubs herself up against my body, but all I care about now is where the woman went who lit something inside me yet again. I remove the stray hands, exit the dance floor, and fight my way back to the bar.

Bear raises his eyebrows at me when I approach him. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You. Dancing?”

“It was me
dancing
, fuckwit.”

“Who was the chick?”

I rub a hand over my head and give him a lopsided grin. “Lizzie. The reporter I told you about from
Nitrous
magazine.”

His face hardens a little before it relaxes. He lets out a low whistle. “Well, now I know what all the fuss is about. What happened? Did she blow you off?”

It’s not a natural response from Bear, but I shrug it off. Maybe he can see that other bloke pawing his lady friend. “Not in so many words.” I rub my stubble. “But yeah, she did.” Shaking my head, I laugh, although I can’t figure the whole thing out.

Maybe that’s the attraction? Unlike the usual bar bunny, she’s not easy prey. “So, where’s your lady?”

His humour shuts down. “She left.”

“Hmm. On her own?”

“No.” His jaw clenches.

I don’t need to ask him anything else, and turn to the barman to catch his attention. “Two shots of JD, mate. And make them doubles.” And I point to the barmaid, adding, “We have a tab running with her.”

Bear grasps my shoulder. “Do you want to sit down?” He points to a quieter area where a table’s free.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, both lost in our own thoughts. I’m the first to walk on hallowed ground. “So, what is it about her that gets you all worked up, then?”

He sighs. “I really don’t know. Ask yourself the same question about that Lizzie bird.”

“Nothing to ask. She gets my cock hard. Nothing new there.” I play off how I feel because I have no fucking clue how to deal with actually feeling anything other than a hard-on. My emotions are never combined with a stiff dick. It’s new territory.

“That,” he gestures to the dance floor, “was new.”

“I dance.” I lean back and use the table as a footstool.

He smirks. “Not like that you don’t.”

I down my drink and slam the empty glass on the table. “Fuck off, Bear.”

He nods and just like that we end the heart-to-heart, neither of us willing to break out with mushy feelings crap.

A shadow casts over the table; the figure looms above us then sits down next to me.

“What’s up, pussy?”

“Zan, you can fuck off, too.”

“Hey, you can’t talk to my cousin like that.”

“Bear, shut the fuck up. Zan can take it.” I turn to Bear’s cousin. “Can’t you, cocksucker?”

He winks at me. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“Who says I haven’t?” I joke, giving him a sly grin. “I love arse, but the cock sucking thing, nah. Goes right over my head.”

Zan bursts out into deep laughter. “Yeah, it does, mate. That’s the point.”

I laugh at our easy piss-taking. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t give him a little shit. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Working for this bastard,” he answers and gestures towards Bear.

I nod. “Easy or hard?” I know better than to ask any in-depth questions about on-going work.

Zan grins back at me, but his eyes don’t match the forced smile on his mouth. “Best job I’ve ever had. It’s a piece of piss.” His face twists a little as if he’s in pain, but before it settles, it’s gone, and is replaced with his usual couldn’t-give-a-fuck face.

Something about his reaction makes me want to push for something else. “Have you been working for him long?”

“Long enough. Served my last tour and got out after. Been working for him ever since.”

I acknowledge his non-answer with another nod and go to take a drink, but there’s nothing there except an empty glass. “You two want a drink?”

Bear glares at Zan and finally speaks up. “Make his a water.” Then he mutters something I can’t quite hear.

I decide it’s best to leave them to it, and head off to the bar. A few women try and catch my attention, but I’m not in the mood. The only one I want left me high and dry. After an age waiting to get served, I return with the drinks. When I get closer, I overhear their conversation.

“She’s had a thing for him ever since.”

“Fuck.” Bear crouches forward and rubs the back of his neck.

Zan, on the other hand, leans back in his chair. “What are you going to do about it?”

I place the drinks on the table and relax back into my seat. “What’s
who
going to do about what?” Both the guys turn to look at me, odd expressions on their faces.

“Nothing, it’s work. And for the record, I’m going to do nothing about it. Because nothing will come of it.” Bear cuts the conversation dead and Zan stares at him over the rim of his glass. Bear’s returning glare makes Zan shift in his seat before he looks away. One-nil to Bear then.

“Do you girls need some privacy?” I’ve interrupted something too soon and as much as I love seeing these two bitches going at each other, I’d rather not be stuck in the middle if things turn physical.

“You mind giving us a minute?” Bear looks apologetic but ready to kill me at the same time.

I couldn’t give a fuck as I’ve spotted something far more interesting across the club. I grab my drink and make my way around to the other side of the dance floor.

The fight to get there becomes worth it when I find Lizzie still where I spotted her. She’s leant on the railing, which surrounds the dance floor. And her face is turned away from me. Most people would think she’s watching the dancing, but her chin’s tilted slightly upwards. I follow what I think is her line of sight to find nothing but darkness. Shame I can’t observe her from the front, but I’d guess she’s wearing a thousand-yard stare.

I move in close to her, resting my forearms on the railing, which brings me down to her level. No movement comes from her. She has no idea anyone is next to her at all. Not wanting to scare her, I nudge her with my thigh. Startled, she stands up straighter and turns at the same time, almost losing her footing. Instinctively, I reach out to save her. She stands still, her chest heaving, and slowly lifts her head. The heat in my body increases with every millisecond it takes her to reach my face.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

For a second, the strobe lights graze her face, revealing a pink tinge to her cheeks.

“It’s okay… I’m sorry about earlier.” Her gaze won’t meet mine so I let her wrists go, even though my fingers itch at the loss of contact.

I’m sick of the woman spending more time looking at the floor than at me. I want, no, I
need
her to look at me. I crook my forefinger under her chin and raise it up so she has no choice. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We danced. I wanted to kiss you. You didn’t want it.” I let her chin go and shrug my shoulders like I’m not bothered by it, when if I’m honest, it fucking meant something to me. “No big deal.”

“No. You’re wrong.” Her voice is timid, and hard to hear above the music.

“What do you mean?”

Her gaze flicks south again, and I’ve had about enough. I’m envious of the fucking floor. The thought registers and then I dismiss it.

She seems to bolster herself like she did in our interview. Her shoulders square back, her chest rises with a deep inhale, and then she raises her eyes and her gaze meets mine.

She looks me square in the eye. “I wanted it.” No hesitation. No looking at the floor this time. I’m fucked.

I edge in closer to her, not wanting her to run away again. But I need my mouth on hers, or I’m going to explode.

Her body grazes against mine and my arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her against me. I know she can feel me when her hips tilt and press in harder. The constant noise from the club fades away, no longer the focus of my attention. I hear nothing but her and her stuttered breaths.

“Now?” I’m asking again. It may be the worst thing I’ve ever done, but I need confirmation from her this is what she wants.

Her eyelids flutter shut and when she opens them, there’s a raging storm in her eyes. Still, I wait, desperate for an answer but unwilling to push for one. I get what I’ve been waiting for. She nods, all the while keeping eye contact with me.

I lower my head and she pushes up onto her tiptoes, her mouth hovering over mine. Our breaths are rapid. One hand releases her waist and instead cradles her nape. Unable to wait any longer, I dip down the last inch. I give a gentle tug on her bottom lip and feel her smile against me. She nips mine back and her tongue runs the seam of my lips, they part for her, and swollen lips cover my own.

Terrified of consuming her, I let her take the lead. Our lips join, her tongue flicks into my mouth, dancing with mine in hesitant lashes. The sweet taste of mint mixed with rum dances across my taste buds and I groan into her mouth. Her hands fist into my shirt, demanding more. My heart pounds fierce in my chest and I’m lost in the sensation, in her. Her fingers grasp onto my hair and I lose control, pulling her back a few feet into a dark spot and up against the wall. Lips bruise, teeth clash, and one hand digs into her hips, rocking her against my cock. The other runs the length of her side, grazing my thumb across the soft swell of her tit.

Her leg hitches around my thigh, the motion lifting her dress, revealing more flesh. It’s like a magnet for my hand, as I let her hip go and allow my fingers to wander down onto the newly exposed skin. All the while, our lips and tongues are entwined. I can’t get enough. I need more. Much more.

Not yet. Not here.

I pull away, utterly breathless, and rest my forehead against hers. Our breaths pant in unison. “Come home with me?”