It was only supposed to be dancing.
I have all these witty things I’m going to say and they all die on my tongue when you come to the door in that short little dress.
Damn. Speechless again. And you with that knowing smile.
On the way to the club, sliding my hand up your thigh, I swerve dangerously close to some huge pickup, his horn blaring both of my hands back onto the wheel. After that I try to be better about watching the road, but it’s hard with legs like yours just always in the corner of my eye. Somehow I manage.
But when we get out on the dance floor and I see the way you move your body there is Just. No. Way. I am keeping my hands off of you. A man’s got his limits. So when the DJ takes a break we head outside, sweaty and breathless, our drinks forgotten. I pull you closer than dancing and our kisses are like coming up for air.
We find a way around to the back of the building, where it’s dark except for the lights from the interstate. I press your body up against the wall, feeling more than hearing the loud thumping of the music as the cars sigh past behind us. It’s autumn cold and it smells like fallen leaves, and that scent you are wearing, and you, and honestly who needs drinks?
I knew you weren’t wearing anything under that dress. Knew it. I love being right. My hands are in your hair and on your skin in all the softest places and oh my god woman I cannot fucking wait.
Your arms are around my neck and my fingers are digging into your ass, lifting you up and then I’m inside you and that little gasp you give when it happens seems louder than anything else I’ve heard all night. Our kisses grow fiercer and we’re pounding against the wall of the building and it is so intense that I think for a moment that we’re the ones shaking the walls while the kids inside dance to our rhythm.
I don’t really hear the words you are panting into my ear, but I don’t have to they all mean the same thing and I don’t need to be told anyway. My world is your scent, your skin, your warmth, your wetness, and you are as irresistible as the flood. Coming into you is like being stuck by honeyed lightning. I wonder how I can still be alive when it’s over.
I lower you back against the wall and there’s not enough light to see the color of your eyes. All I can see is darkness and shine. And that knowing smile.
It was only supposed to be dancing.
You whisper that you want to go back inside. You want to shake your ass some more. You want me to watch and see if anyone notices what’s soon going to be trickling down your leg.
Watching your ass in that dress as you lead me back towards the entrance, I wonder how anyone could notice anything else.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/j6jzp2/it_was_only_supposed_to_be_dancing_oc