Three Strikes - 6. Just a dance

There were two reasons I followed him to the dance floor. One, I was drunk. I’m not sure, but I think my drink count was in the double digits. Two, he was dragging me behind him, which meant I was unlawfully hypnotized by his beautiful backside.

We danced and every time he got too close, I’d step away, and when he touched me, I’d brush him off. After, what felt like the hundredth brush off, he leaned in and spoke softly into my ear.

“Why are you doing that?”

Flabbergasted by the sincerity of his question, my mouth dropped open and I was momentarily paralyzed. Rude, ignorant, and oblivious.

“Because you’re an ass and I don’t like you.”

He didn’t respond, we just continued to dance. He tried to dance closer or put his hands around my waist or on my hip a few more times, but I denied him each time. All I could think about was how I must’ve been in the twilight zone. All of the guys I’d wanted had miraculously disappeared, but the one guy I didn’t want was practically mauling me. Yes, I’d wanted to hook up with someone, but I was by no means that desperate.

“I’m sorry.”

Between the alcohol and being lost in the music, it took me a few seconds to process his words, or even the fact he’d spoken to me. I must’ve looked at him with the same confusion I was feeling because he answered my question before I could ask.

“For being an ass.”

Oh, wonderful. He’s sorry. I glanced up and was met with the most sincere, puppy-dog, brown eyes I could remember seeing in recent history. He was looking at me in a way that almost made his apology believable.

“Oh, you’re sorry? Am I supposed to consider all of the rude and hateful things you’ve said to me as water under the bridge and become best friends forever?”

I rolled my eyes and stuck my middle finger between his eyes so he couldn’t miss it. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in. I tried to push away, but this time, he wasn’t letting go. I’m strong, but damn, he was stronger.

“Seriously. I’m sorry.”

Hmpf. Asshole.

I resigned to the fact he was bigger, stronger, and clearly overpowered me. We danced together, but I made sure he knew I wasn’t enjoying it by doing nothing to reciprocate. I kept the weight of my body away from him, and pushed back against the arm he’d used to anchor us together. I smiled inwardly, knowing his arm had to be exhausted from the constant strain of holding my weight. Ha! The rat bastard deserved it.

After a while, though, my resolve started to falter. Even under the most extreme interrogations, I’d never admit it to him, but at some point, I started to enjoy the dancing and the closeness. It was most likely the booze, but he was so warm and he smelled so good—like fresh laundry. I loved the smell of fresh laundry or a good fabric softener. I felt like a kid, again, when my mom would dump the laundry basket of clothes, fresh from the dryer, on top of me. Millions of people buy the same laundry detergent, yet some people’s clothes smell better than others.

Shane smelled better than others.

I was caught up in my own thoughts about Shane’s yummy laundry, and how nice it’d be to sleep in a dryer full of his shirts, when I felt someone’s lips on mine. Although I knew better, the drunken part of my brain convinced me it wasn’t Shane. Yes, it was someone else who had broad shoulders, strong arms, and smelled like what a light breeze blowing through a field of lavender might smell like.

I couldn’t force myself to open my eyes because the lips that were pressed to mine were so incredibly soft and gentle and yet, they demanded my reciprocation. I couldn’t say no, so I didn’t, and I wasn’t disappointed. His tongue was soft, yet firm and didn’t demand too much but wasn’t overly eager.

The arm he had around my waist squeezed tighter, bringing us closer together. His other hand slowly traveled up from its starting place on my hip, to my side before seamlessly transferring to my arm. It continued to leave goosebumps as he rounded my shoulder and up my neck until he was cupping my head.

As the kissing became more intense he tightened his hold on the base of my skull which did nothing but make me moan in return. I would’ve been embarrassed about it, but he was making the same noises.

My arms were still dangling at my side in a last ditch effort of resistance. Of course, that too fell away as a mixture of hormones and blood desperately rushed south—and north, east, and west. I felt his hardness against me and I’m sure he felt mine in return. Suddenly nothing else mattered except being impossibly close.

I felt him shudder when I brushed my fingers against his arms before losing all my resolve and grabbing onto him tightly—I was sure I’d leave marks behind.

Impossibly close. That was the goal.

Not everything was clear—the way it is when alcohol and lust are mixed together, causing a perfect filter of reality. I clung to his shirt for dear life as he tried to pull me even closer. When we were as close as possible I started trying to crawl up his body, which he gladly moved along by grabbing my ass and lifting me.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and the next thing I knew, we were falling backward onto a bed. It wasn’t my bed but a bed nonetheless. I didn’t care where we were or how we got there because I was focused on one thing—the goal of being impossibly close.

We rolled around on the bed. It wasn’t frantic or hurried but passionate and sensual. My legs wrapped around his waist and my breath hitched as his hands squeezed and felt their way up my legs to ass. He was kissing my neck as I pushed his shirt up and groaned when fingers felt his impossibly strong stomach.

No, he wasn’t ripped like a gym rat, but he was solid and healthy with soft hair on his belly and chest. I needed more—so much more. He begrudgingly let go of me as I wrestled his tight, black shirt over his head, revealing what I’d felt with my hands and seen from the corner of my eye at the gym—a beautiful and naturally strong body.

My eyes rolled back with desire as his lips carefully made their way down to the base of my neck. His hands moved everywhere and I quickly realized he was trying to find his way inside of my clothes but was met with nothing but dead ends.

I was hit with the realization that every man at the club bailed when they saw I was wearing a romper, which was basically a full body chastity belt! How stupid could I have been? Turned out, pretty stupid.

“What the fuck?”

He mumbled as he stopped and propped himself up so he could figure out what he was up against—a cotton chastity belt with lots of fucking buttons. I watched his brown eyes dart across my body before they narrowed on a really terrible idea.

“Don’t rip them.”

I said in a surprisingly stern voice. He wanted to complain and I knew he was frustrated that my request would add an additional hour before either of us would cum, but he kept his mouth shut and straddled my hips as he started the tedious task ahead. His hips grinded against mine, sending delicious shivers up and down my body as rubbed our hardnesses together while his fingers worked as quickly as possible.

I hated all the fabric between us but I didn’t complain because I knew it’d get better, soon. He quickly stripped me as one does an infant child from their onesie pajamas. I vowed, then and there, I’d never wear that thing again when I had hopes of getting laid.

I wasted no time returning the favor and, luckily, his jeans were much easier to discard. There was a mutual sigh of contentment when our naked bodies touched for the first time. It was like coming home to the most wonderful feeling ever. Not only were we touching from the waist down but he wrapped his arms around me as we resumed kissing, leaving nothing between us. I could hardly focus and if he didn’t have me in a tight embrace I’d worry I might float away. I was drunk but it was on alcohol. There’s nothing more satisfying and disorienting than hot skin on skin.

We were closer to the goal of being impossibly close.

With the barriers between us gone, things slowed down and we spent close to an eternity kissing, moaning, roaming, exploring, and touching. It was wonderful, sensual, intoxicating, overwhelming, and we never needed to speak—not with words, anyway.

I opened my eyes when Shane pulled his lips from mine only to see his lust filled and hooded eyes looking back at me like I was the only food after a long drought. He ran his thumb over my lips before peppering my face with soft passionate kisses.

He had my body at it’s point of breaking and every nerve ending was burning. I wanted to scream and cry and hurry things along, but I also wanted to stay the way we were because it was so good.

I was lost in the moment when I felt his hand slip between my legs and I gasped when he brushed between my cheeks.

What I wanted most at that moment was all of him. I was at the point of telling him to forget the foreplay, when he pressed his finger between my cheeks and began to stretch me. His lips curled in pride when I moaned, writhed, pushed against him. I was trying to demand so much more than he was offering and I felt like he was never gonna give in.

But before I could do anything more I found myself sprawled out (face down) on the bed with my arms pinned by the wrists away from my body. I felt his weight press down on me his lips burned a trailed kisses down my neck and across my back. There was a flash of heat and a wave of intensity that went down my spine as I felt him slide between my cheeks as he teased the hell out of me.

I pushed back, hoping he’d get the hint, but instead, he used one hand to hold my hips down so he could continue being an asshole to my asshole. He released me for a moment, but when he returned, it was with something deliciously cool and my heart sped up with anticipation for the moments to come.

I smiled pressed my face into the pillow as he intertwined our fingers and wrapped his arms around me so we were both hugging me against his chest. I was glad he couldn’t see the smiled on my face. I loved being pinned helpless against a body like Shane as he repeatedly pushed himself into me until there was nowhere else to go.

We were impossibly close.

He moved, I moved, and we moved together because there were no other options when that close. The longer we went and the higher we climbed, the stronger his embrace around me became. It was like being wrapped in a boa constrictor. We slowly started curling ourselves into an intense ball of intimacy with pressing himself into me.

I felt every minute movement he made as he penetrated me deeper and with more intensity than I’d ever experienced before. I was barely able breathe. He started thrusting and grinding harder. His arms wrapped around mine, making any chance of me moving freely or using my hands to touch myself an impossibility. He was in control and I was along for the ride. It seemed effortless the way he moved in me while simultaneously kissing and biting my shoulders, neck, and back like it was the smoothest thing in the world.

I needed to trip; to be touched, to end the sexual torture that had consumed my evening. I whimpered and cried when I felt his hand move over my stomach until he stroked me in rhythm to his thrusting, which wasn’t as fast as I needed to achieve the quick release I was dying for.

I was panting. I could feel the tension building and churning deep within. I was sure I’d die waiting for it to boil over. I desperately tried to rub myself against him in an effort to find my release when I felt him change. He was jerky and slow, yet frantic at the same time, and knowing he was going to cum sent me over the edge.

It was almost painful when my orgasm started. It was also mind blowing and heart stopping. I managed to mumble my first real word: ‘faster’. I know he heard me because I could feel him comply. Even if it was just barely.

I could feel his hot breath against the back of my neck when he finally stop moving, and that’s how we fell asleep—curled in a ball; covered in cum, sweat, and saliva, with him still fully embedded in of my ass. I felt strangely safe and content with his strong arms wrapped tightly around my chest and his lips pressed against the back of my neck.

Impossibly close.