Page 14

14

Layla

The music blasts, the sound of the trumpets and beat pulsing through my body. My hands above my head, I let my body move to the rhythm of the music, solely in the moment. My hair falls in front of my face as I move my head from side to side, my body swaying in rhythm.

A guy dances around me, I think his name was Dave or something, but it’s not his hands I’m imagining. It’s not his hands I want on me.

He leans in. “Do you want a drink?”

“Nah, I’m good.” I shut my eyes and continue to enjoy the music. Katy was right, this place does play good songs.

I bloody love dancing.

I feel free.

“Come on, let’s get a drink—”

Hands circle my waist, and my eyes bulge open in shock at how David has suddenly turned handsy. I turn around and am pulled into a rock-hard chest, breathing in a familiar masculine scent, and my heart bucks behind my ribcage.

It’s him. The face that has been haunting my dreams. I tilt my head and meet his dark, deadly and fuming eyes. The air fizzles between us.

He’s silent.

My breath hitches; I was not expecting to see him.

He’s radiating a fury that rolls off him and makes the air around us stifling.

“Get lost.” He rumbles to David, who just shrugs and turns to dance with another woman.

My head screams at me to run, but my body…

He gently caresses my cheek, and I lean into it. Then he drops his hands, running them down my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

I’m alive.

He brings me to life.

His fingertips are a ghost of a touch, the exact opposite to what I thought this encounter would be. I feel him everywhere and I’m frozen under whatever spell he’s cast.

His body starts moving, hips swaying to the beat of the house music. I take his lead, turning back around, pushing my arse into him, and I look over my shoulder trying my absolute best to look sexy.

I should be embarrassed, knowing he watched me, I should be angry about the depraved gift he left me, but I’m not.

I want him so much.

He looks down at me, pulling my hair to one side and buries his head in my neck breathing me in, his hands moving to my stomach, pulling me tighter to his groin.

He is rock. Fucking. Hard.

Oh, God.

This is hot.

This is something else.

I swallow as we move to the music, no space between us. My back is firmly against his front. My body crackles and reacts in a way that it’s never done before. My pulse beats wildly in my neck, my stomach coils with anticipation as heat spreads through every limb.

He turns me to face him again, running his hand softly down my cheek to my chest, between my breasts to my stomach, and spins me round again.

He leads me to the music, spinning me, pulling me into him, his hips grinding into me, his hands running up and down my body as I do the same.

Luca Knight can dance.

He leans down, his mouth so close to mine, and I want him to close the distance. I’m desperate to taste him, in every way possible. But he doesn’t move, our breaths mingle, and it’s a game of wits.

Who will bend first.

His dark eyes sparkle.

I will not bend to him.

I turn around and gyrate against him, dry-humping him right in the middle of a packed dance floor. My dress has ridden up, and I can’t believe how brazen I’m being with him, but I don’t care.

I want this man to do filthy things to me.

I want to do filthy things to this man.

“Who is he?” he asks through gritted teeth, his voice deep and promising darkness.

“A random man.” I shamelessly rub against his hard length, alcohol and his presence making me bold, and he hisses, spinning me around quickly.

“Do you dance with all random men like that?” He grips my throat, and I lift my chin, my eyes meeting his, as he does his favourite thing and holds my tiny neck in his huge palm and squeezes gently.

And I love it.

“I don’t even know him,” I say. He releases me, his fingers dropping to the hem of my dress, teasing the edge. I want him to walk them higher, I want him to plunge his fingers into me on the dance floor surrounded by all these people.

Who even am I right now?

“And that’s supposed to be better, is it?”

I arch an eyebrow, and he digs his fingers into the flesh of my legs.

“I’ve been thinking about you, all day, fuck, all week. I’ve been thinking about that vibrator between your legs, and imagining it was my tongue, my cock. I want to make you scream my name and forget yours, Layla. And here you are on my dance floor. Come with me, I don’t want an audience.”

“Your club?”

He ignores my question, instead he grabs my hand, and it’s like he has some sort of magical power: the people who are packed in tightly move aside as Luca pulls me behind him.

His fingers interlace with mine and my hand feels tiny. Everything about him makes me feel tiny. His huge imposing body, his grip, his energy. Everything about this man should have me running for the hills, but here I am, hand gripped tightly in his as he leads me to wherever he wants.

I’ve just abandoned poor Katy.

He leads me up a set of stairs to the VIP area, which runs around the edge of the dance floor and overlooks the people moving below. Multiple booths run along the side, which I would have expected to be crammed full of patrons, but tonight there’s only a handful of people.

The furnishings are plush, booths upholstered in navy velvet draperies, with luxurious black tables showcasing house bottles of vodka. Beautiful women drape themselves over men, and oh my…

There in one of the booths is an unbelievably attractive man; his hooded eyes meet mine and I stop in my tracks.

A woman is on her knees working his cock with her hands and mouth, giving him head right in the middle of the VIP area.

Luca turns around to see what has caught my attention, his own gaze following to where the attractive man stares at me.

Luca points at the man. “Not her.”

The guy holds his hands up with a mischievous grin on his face, then drops his head back and looks to the ceiling as his climax approaches, his hips pumping to guide the woman to the rhythm he wants.

“I didn’t peg you for a watcher, sunshine,” Luca whispers, and I shiver, his breath tickling my ear and neck.

Neither did I, but here I stand, fixated on the scene.

“Did you bring me here so I could suck your cock?”

He grins wickedly and his smile transforms his face, making him look carefree.

“No, sunshine, but if you want to suck my cock you won’t hear any complaints from me.” My face heats as the blonde woman’s head bobs up and down, one small hand working the shaft, the other cupping his balls.

Every so often she takes the length right to the back of her throat, and I cannot stop watching.

Jesus.

Luca’s fingers dip under my dress again and he traces my inner thigh and halts at the entrance of my sodden lace thong. He pulls the fabric to one side and draws his finger painstakingly slowly through my folds.

My eyes roll upward, and my head flops onto his shoulder as I suppress a moan. “I knew you’d be dripping, sunshine.” He takes his finger out and sucks it, never taking his eyes off the show in front of us.

“I thought you didn't want an audience?”

“That was before I felt how wet you were, how turned on you are.”

“I think I need you to fuck me.” The words are out of my mouth, the words that I was thinking and was not supposed to say. I’m trying to keep my wits about me. I tear my eyes away from the erotic scene and step in front of Luca, grabbing his chin roughly and pulling it down so that his eyes lock on mine.

It’s the alcohol, it’s got to be the alcohol.

And the dreams, and the dance, and the random sex act I’ve just been privy to.

I’ve lost my mind but here I stand in front of the enigma that is Luca Knight begging to be fucked.

“I think I'd rather play with you first,” he replies, eyes blazing, lips smirking, his hand encircling my throat. “Having you beg for my cock is too much fun, little one. I will take you to that corner, close those curtains, and bend you over that table. I will have you screaming over the music.”

I swallow and lift my chin. His grip is less painful.

“And what if that’s what I want.”

He hovers his lips over mine. I’m desperate for him to kiss me. But he doesn’t.

“Be careful, sunshine, you don’t want to play this game with me.” His tone is deadly. “Once I’ve had my way with you, that’s it.”

“And you think one time with me will be enough?”

I place my hand on top of his and squeeze, making him apply more pressure to my throat. This is a dangerous man, and I’m surrounded by other dangerous men, most likely his dangerous men. I am quite literally a fox in a wolf’s den.

But I don’t care, I want him to squeeze my neck while he bends me over the table and fucks me into next week.

“You want this,” I say, feeling for his cock through his jeans. “Why do you fight it?” I move closer and put my mouth to his ear. “You’re throbbing, your dick is leaking, you want to impale yourself in me.” I pull back and lick his jaw before pressing a chaste kiss on his lips, pulling his thick bottom lip into my mouth and nibbling it.

“You want to play little lamb?”