“Why don’t you give it a try? You might like it.”
“Why don’t you try locking the door? I’ll never be able to un-see what just happened—or look at cake the same way.”
That makes two of us. I’ll never forget the look on her face when she caught me straddling the bridesmaid like the world’s sexiest cake topper, spreading my frosting all over her. She looked hungry, and soon, it’ll be her turn to get a taste.
“Don’t be so uptight, sweetheart. What you walked in on was a girl checking a wedding fling off her bucket list. She won’t miss me. But if you walk away now, I think you will.”
In one big gulp, she drains the bottle and thrusts it in my hand, along with her now-empty glass.
“I’m done with my champagne.”
I calmly return the bottle and glasses to the bartender.
“Good. Then you can dance with me.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can give me an answer one way or the other, I gently grab her by the waist and whisk her away to the dance floor. On the stage, a very skilled string quartet is enchanting the crowd with what I’m guessing is Mozart.
Unlike the younger men who are now enviously eyeing her, I’ve had a few years to practice all my moves, and it shows. I’m agile, light on my feet, and I know how to coax a woman’s legs over her head.
On the dance floor, I mean.
In school, I took ballroom dancing instead of enrolling in sports because it seemed like the easiest way to get laid. I can even do the infamous lift from Dirty Dancing, the one that made all the girls drop their panties in the ‘80s.
But tonight, I’ll start with something simpler—a waltz. I can’t just grind against her like I’m at a club. If I give her a few inches of space and treat her like a lady, she’ll be rubbing up on me before she even knows she’s doing it.
I take her hand and put my other hand on her waist. She slips her other arm around my back and follows my lead.
“One, two, three,” I instruct her as I move my feet, leading her through a simple box step.
“What’s with the counting?” she asks.
She’s fighting me with her lips, but she’s encouraging me with her hips. I can already tell she’s going to make me work for it. Pressed against her, I can feel myself rising to the challenge.
“Don’t make me get to four, or you’ll get a spanking.”
She laughs. “I’d like to see you try.”
That’s the answer I was hoping for.
I slide my hand down her back and give her a light smack on her ass, enjoying the way she squ
eaks in surprise. It feels so good that I leave it there for a while, lifting her tight little cheek with my palm. I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I laid eyes on her.
“Are you going to let me go?”
It’s not a request; it’s a question.
I gaze into her young, sweet face. She has perfectly smooth skin and such long, beautiful lashes. Her hair falls around her face in shiny ringlets, still in her natural color. She’s a clean slate, and I want to write dirty words all over her.
“Do you want me to?”
“Maybe.”
“What if I use both hands? Would that feel better?”
I reach down with my other hand and show her what I mean, gently pulling her hips toward mine.
“What if I tell you to stop? Will you do it?”