Page 12 of The Stallion (Men Under Revue #2)
My stomach turned sour and twisted as I watched them. The beginning of a close and erotic dance in the rain that I wished I had been chosen for instead.
The only time being a ‘pick me’ girl would be considered acceptable.
I didn’t even know him. All he did was straddle my thighs, and somehow, I was already his. I shouldn’t have been jealous of another woman dancing with him—grinding on him.
But the longer I watched them, the more annoyed I became.
“I need another shot.” I whimpered pathetically, looking down at the floor—feeling the vodka hitting my emotions like a baseball bat to the back of the skull.
“Here, drink this water. The show’s almost over, and then we can head upstairs to the meet-and-greet.” Asher placed a gentle hand on my shoulder as she held out the glass, and I looked up at her reassuring face, taking a deep breath and gathering my composure.
Show… show… It’s just a fucking show… this isn’t real, he said he was single.
Why am I getting so worked up over him?
And why the fuck do I care that he’s single?
I snatched the cup of water from Asher’s hand and sucked the entire contents down, my eyes lifting to watch the rest of the routine and trying my hardest not to imagine myself as the woman wrapped around him for the thousandth fucking time.
As soon as the show ended, we were escorted to the third floor through the backstage elevators. Upon arriving at the meet-and-greet lounge, we immediately received complimentary glasses of champagne.
Four dancers entered the room, and I found myself slightly disappointed that none of them were the one who had captured my attention earlier.
I brushed my hand over my thigh, feeling a sensation of loss and yearning, before downing my entire glass of champagne in hopes of erasing the unwanted feeling.
While Natalie, Mick, and Asher gushed over the four dancers, I excused myself from the group, not wanting to bother any of them with my whirlwind of emotions. They seemed more than entertained by all the bare abs they could handle, and I knew our time was limited.
Being on a closed-off and isolated floor, I figured I would be fine getting to the restroom and back on my own. I didn’t need a babysitter; it wasn’t like I could get lost up here.
After leaving the main lounge, where the girls were busy flirting, touching, and taking photos, I turned down a dimly lit hall.
With the kind of shitty luck I’d been having, to no surprise, all of the doors were closed, and there was little to no visible signage indicating where I should go .
“What the fuck…” I sighed as I staggered down the hall, pressing down on every handle I passed along the way, searching for at least one that was unlocked and praying to God that it would lead to a toilet—or even a trash can at this point. I was getting pretty desperate.
Tripping over my heels, I fell to my right against a bright red door and gripped the handle for support.
With my weight pressing down on it, the lock turned, and without a second to regain my balance, the force of the door pulled me into a dark room, something catching me before I ended up face down on the floor.
“Lost?”
I sucked in a sharp breath as strong hands lifted me upright, and I found myself pressed up against the interior wall, my eyes straining to adjust to the darkness.
Shit, am I in trouble?
“I—no… I’m just looking… f-for the restroom.” I stammered, trying to form a cohesive sentence between my drunken slurs. I one hundred percent overdid it with the champagne—or the vodka.
Warmth caressed the side of my neck and down to my collarbone before sliding up the center of my throat, stopping at the base of my lower lip.
The touch was tender—sensual even—and I felt myself leaning into its gravitational pull.
More —I wanted more of whatever this was.
It felt so fucking good—so right.
My palms were pressed firmly against the wall to ground me before whoever this was made my body float away like a loose leaf down a lazy river.
The first thing I saw as my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness was a set of soft, lush lips. And all I could imagine was how they would feel against mine.
Who cared who they belonged to… I just wanted to taste them.
Breathlessly, I leaned further forward, caught in his wake.
Whoever this mystery man was, he had me sloppily falling to my knees for him— figuratively .
His thumb pressed against my lip, making me crave other things— literally .
“You’re far from a restroom, but it seems like you’re searching for a very different kind of relief.” His voice was smooth like velvet, and just like in the theater, I found myself entranced, unable and unwilling to move.
These men had a hold on me unlike any other.
A beam of light streaked through the crack in the door, cutting across his face and allowing me to see his mysterious, mesmerizing eyes. They weren’t blue, green, or even brown—they were all the colors blended together. I’ve never seen anything like them in my entire life, except—
“Is there something that I can do for you, sweet girl?”
Oh, fuck me to the moon.
Yes, everything.
Do fucking everything to me, please.
Most likely the alcohol talking, but I was a horny, sexually deprived mess, and whoever this beautiful man was, I wanted whatever he was offering right this goddamn second.
“Y-yes.” My eyes dropped in hopes of the limited light giving me a glimpse of something else, something far lower than his face.
His lips twisted into a rakish smirk as he followed my descending gaze, releasing a soft chuckle that sent butterflies fluttering through me.
This man was doing things to my body, and he was barely even touching me.
My breaths had turned into needy gasps of desire as I reached my hand out, attempting to pull his body closer to mine, begging for physical contact.
I wanted to feel him pressed right up against me—moving inside of me.
“Tell me what you want.” His warm breath caressed my ear as he leaned in with a low, almost growling murmur.
Christ, he was hot—scorching. I could feel the heat pooling between my thighs as they craved his touch. I wanted it so badly I was ready to beg like a dirty little whore.
Without thinking, I sucked his thumb into my mouth, tasting the delicious salt on his skin. Swirling my tongue around the tip with a soft moan as if that would give a good indication of exactly what I wanted.
Him .
Without wasting any more time, he pulled his hand away from my face, replacing his thumb with tender, warm lips, mine parting to welcome his tongue as it forced a moan from within my throat the deeper it went.
Gripping my thigh, he lifted my leg, wrapping it around his hip as he pressed his weight into me until I was flush against the wall once more, my hips rolling against him with feral need.
His fingers dug deeper into my skin, enough to leave a bruise, and all I could think was of how badly I wanted him to mark me—to wake up in the morning knowing all of this was real and not some alcohol-induced fever dream.
“Wait.” I pulled away from his lips with enraptured, lust-filled breaths, my palms pressed firmly against his chest. “What’s your name?”
I shouldn’t have asked or even cared, but something inside me was desperate to know. I needed the name of the man who managed to suck all of the air from my lungs with just his light touch.
“You can call me Dallas, sweet girl.” His voice was a purr, and I felt myself melting against him even further.
Dallas… a dancer— the dancer. Holy fuck.
At my pause, Dallas chuckled proudly, licking his lips before tilting his head to press them along the side of my neck.
He knew I was eating out of the palm of his hand, and like before, I didn’t care.
After everything that had happened.
I wanted to escape— just for one night.
He could have me—all of me.
“What? Disappointed that I’m not just a waiter, and I like to service my own tables? ”
“N-no I just-just…” My slurring was getting worse the longer he held me in place, fighting the burning desire for him and the champagne-induced coma that was looming over me.
“Seeing as I’ve given you mine. Why don’t you give me yours? You’re far too pretty to remain nameless.”
Pretty…
When was the last time a man ever said I was pretty?
Did Connor ever say it? Even once?
A word so simple, yet hearing it pass his lips sparked something deep within me. Something that had been left behind and long forgotten—a piece of me that was slowly awakening from its dark slumber.
“Bria.” I breathed in response, swallowing hard as my heart pounded against my chest, adrenaline washing over my senses.
“Beautiful name for an even more alluring woman.” His lips grazed against the shell of my ear, and I felt like I was going to come from his words alone. What the fuck was happening to me right now? “What do you want, Bria?”
“D-Dallas.” I gasped with a desperate moan of thirst.
I wanted to drink him like a fine fucking wine while he dined on me like a Michelin-star meal.
The chuckle that followed his name passing my lips was anything but holy—pure, depraved sin, and I found myself drowning—consumed by it.