Page 45 of You Rock My World
JOSIE
Dorian goes rigid at first. But he’s quick to catch up, and when he does, his own dam bursts, flooding me with his pent-up desire.
Our mouths crash together in a collision of raw need.
It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s urgent, reckless, an explosion of every suppressed feeling we’ve both been carrying. There are teeth, and there’s tongue.
The world blurs. The muffled music from the stage above, the distant roar of the crowd, fades into a background hum as every one of my senses hone in on him. His hands move from my hips up my spine, pulling me closer, crushing me against him.
He’s yanking and pushing, and we careen backward until my back hits something—poles? I can’t tell, and I don’t care. Because Dorian is kissing me.
I can feel the hard lines of his body, the rapid thump of his heart echoing my own.
Heat radiates from his skin, searing through my clothes, and I’m melting into him, losing sense of where I end and he begins. Each stroke of his tongue, each nip of his teeth sends shockwaves of electricity through me, short-circuiting my brain. Thoughts scatter, and emotions prevail.
Time stretches and distorts, an elastic band pulled to its breaking point. Seconds feel like hours, yet they pass in an instant.
Dorian growls low in his throat, and the kiss turns carnal. His hands find the hem of my dress, sneaking underneath. The rough, calloused pads of his fingers squeeze my bare thighs none too gently, and a shudder of pleasure and need rips through me.
I bite down on his lower lip, equally aggressive, and he responds with another growl that comes from deep in his chest, the sound so raw and animalistic that my grip on reality falters.
Am I dreaming? But then he presses me harder against the poles, his body a solid wall of warmth and muscle, and I arch into him, craving more, remembering he’s real. And finally mine.
Dorian shifts his thigh between my legs, creating a torturous friction.
I gasp into his mouth, my entire body tensing and then melting against him.
The unexpected pressure makes my knees buckle, and I clutch at his shoulders, digging my nails in, desperate to steady myself as a wave of heat crashes over me.
He takes advantage of my open mouth, his tongue diving in without mercy as his hands cup my face.
The world tilts as he grinds his thigh harder against me, and my hips move, seeking more of the exquisite torment he’s inflicting. My head spins. My body loses weight. I’m flying… I’m being lifted into another dimension.
I levitate, my senses disjointed, each one firing in different directions. Air rushes past me, cool against the feverish heat of my skin. On the back of my brain, I wonder if I’ve died and gone to heaven, surfing through the clouds.
Until the jarring reality of our surroundings seeps in. Dorian’s lips are still on mine, his hands still cupping my face, but the world is no longer a blur.
The music has stopped. And the crowd that was singing along a moment ago is now mute.
The poles digging into my back start to make sense. They’re the bars of the cage Dorian uses to make his dramatic entrance for the second half of the concert.
We’re no longer under the stage. We’re kissing in front of a sold-out stadium for the entire world to see.