Gravity

She catches a glimpse of his face through the crowd, and her already thumping heart leaps.

What’s he doing here? The club is just the kind of place he hates—too loud, too frantic, too many bodies crammed in together, too much of everything. He’s a man who prizes control, restraint. That’s part of the reason they are as repelled by each other as they are attracted. He’s control, but she is chaos.

Her eyes search the sea of dancers surrounding her. Now that she’s seen him she can’t not look for him. She slips through the crowd in the direction that she saw him, away from her friends and the arms of the guy she’d been dancing with. He makes a grab for her, his fingers grazing her wrist, but a deft twist and she’s gone, swallowed up by the dancers.

Bodies buffet her, twisting and gyrating. Music thrums through the humid air, stroking against her skin. Everything is damp, sweaty. Later, she’ll think it’s gross, but right now it makes her senses sing with visceral awareness of the hundreds of bodies moving around her, against her. As soon as she’d stepped into the club, she’d gotten wet, her pussy flooding with adrenaline-fuelled excitement. She isn’t the only one turned on, she bet; most of the people here are looking to hook up after they spend the night drinking and dancing. She’d been planning on fucking the guy she’d just been dancing with, but she doesn’t need him now.

She is nearing the edge of the dance-floor when a large hand wraps around her upper arm. She doesn’t jump. She’d know his touch anywhere.

She turns and there he is. Tall and broad, his sweat-damp t-shirt clinging to the heavy muscles of his chest and shoulders, he towers over her. The flashing coloured lights highlight the glower hovering at the edge of his expression, the feral darkness of his deep-set eyes. Tension thrums from his hand into her flesh. His nerves are strung tight and she can tell he can’t wait to leave. But here she is, an unexpected surprise to take his mind of it. A zing travels through her, a shock of electricity streaking from the base of her skull down her spine to the clenching sheath of her empty cunt.

He tugs on her arm, leading her away from the dance-floor, and she follows him. A smile of anticipation curls the corners of her lips, becoming a full-blown grin they arrive at a shadowed corner behind the DJ’s booth. The music swallows her laughter when he presses her against the condensation-wet wall with the hard length of his body. She opens her mouth to ask him what he’s doing here, but he kisses her, his tongue surging past her lips without preamble, and she realises she doesn’t really care.

It’s always like this. A touch, a kiss, it sets them both off like a spark to dynamite. Nothing else matters, not the club behind him packed full of people, nor the fact that after tonight they probably won’t see each other for months, if not years.

He’s rock hard against her, his muscles, his cock, vibrating with a mixture of discomfort and need. She touches him, her stroking hands greedy and comforting at the same time. She isn’t surprised when he unseals their mouths only for as long as it takes to capture her wrists in his hands and pin them to the wall above her head. His hold is bruising tight and she moans against his marauding mouth, her hips bucking to rub her throbbing pussy against the line of his erection. He firms his hands around her wrists, gripping them to the point of pain, and sandwiches her between him and the wall so tightly she can’t catch her breath. He can’t control what’s going on around them, but he can control her. She nips his lips, reminding him that she can’t be tamed. Not for long and never completely.

She gasps and laughs as he spins her round. One of his hands secures her wrists back to the wall, while the other reaches beneath her short skirt and tears her panties off in one vicious tug. Movement brushes against her ass, and then he’s pulling her hips up and surging inside her, his cock piercing her in one forceful thrust. If she hadn’t been so wet, it would have hurt.

Her head reels as he fucks her. She can’t move, she can barely breathe, but pleasure scores through her regardless. She comes hard and fast, her body jerking in helpless spasms, the music eating up her screams. He hammers into her, riding her climax, finally holding himself deep as he spurts his own orgasm into her convulsing pussy.

They both jerk as they remember they’re in the middle of a packed nightclub. He lets her go, his cock sliding out of her in a rush of wetness that trickles down her thighs and that she hopes no one will notice. She’ll feel his touch on her for days; bracelets of aches around her wrists, a sharp soreness in her cunt. She’ll savour it until the next time.

His hands on her shoulders turn her around. It’s too dark back here to see his face, but she knows everything she needs to from the gentle press of his lips to hers before he’s gone.

She makes her way back into the crowd, back to her friends. She doesn’t wonder when, or if, they’ll see each other again. It’s a certainty to her that they will. They exist on the edges of each other’s worlds, caught in one another’s gravity and both unable to pull away.


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