He was fully erect, hard and long. The feel of his need was like a match lighting the fire inside her. As he sucked on her tongue, drawing her deeper into the erotic fog, his hand travelled to the juncture of her thighs and the heel of his palm pressed against the aching bundle of nerves.
She bucked, the contact too sweet, too brutal.
‘Dominic?’ She dragged her head back. ‘We can’t, we’ll be arrested. People can see us.’ She moaned against his ear as his hand continued to tantalise the swelling spot between her legs. The music and the deep male voices from the stage reached a crescendo, drowning out her ragged pants as the battle raged inside her.
‘No one is watching,’ he said, the urgency in his voice matching her own.
But even cocooned in darkness, she felt exposed, raw, her heart sinking into her abdomen, her need too visceral, too demanding.
‘Stand up,’ he commanded, then grasped her waist to lift her off his lap. He stood and dragged her to the side of the booth, giving them a semblance of privacy, hidden behind the heavy velvet curtain she’d been admiring only moments before.
‘I want to be inside you,’ he said.
She nodded, her heart ramming her throat at the urgency in his voice.
She could have sworn she could hear the sibilant hum of his zip releasing above the cacophony of sound coming from the stage. His hands stole under the layers of velvet and taffeta in her dress; her back butted the wall as he boosted her into his arms.
‘Wrap your legs around my waist,’ he urged, the thick head of his penis probing past the gusset of her panties and finding the slick folds of her yearning sex.
She did as he told her, disorientated. How could she survive this need? This desperation?
She clung to him as he thrust heavily inside her.
She groaned, the fullness immense. He paused, but only for a moment, to give her time to adjust to the brutal pleasure. Then he started to move. Slow at first, but then faster, harder, rocking out, thrusting deep. Her pants became sobs, his groans became grunts, until all she could hear, all she could feel was the devastating wave washing through her like a tsunami. She tumbled over, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging her back into the maelstrom.
The dark need grew again, becoming huge, becoming overwhelming, the coil at her core twisting, as he dug ruthlessly at the spot inside her he knew would destroy her control... The pleasure became pain, so sharp, too sharp. She clung on, grasping his shoulders, and rode the whirlwind only he could create.
‘Encore.’
The guttural French demand echoed in her head.
Again.
She plunged over the edge, her cry muffled against his shoulder as he plunged into her one last time and then followed.
Her galloping heartbeat slowed, but her wits remained scattered in the heady wave of afterglow. His fingers tensed on her hips, the ache immense as he eased out of her.
He held her arm as she tried to steady herself, her legs like limp noodles, as he placed her on her feet.
She must look a mess, her dress creased, her breathing uneven, her hair falling down on one side.
‘Pardon,’ he said, the word so rigid and filled with self-disgust she flinched. ‘I don’t know what happened to me.’
She lifted a hand to his cheek, caressed his stiff jaw, hearing the self-recriminations, the
fury with himself, and wanted to weep. ‘It’s okay, Dominic, I was desperate, too. It’s been a long three weeks.’
And I love you.
The declaration echoed in her mind, but she held onto the words. It was too soon, not the right moment, to burden him with more, when he already seemed to be burdened with so much she didn’t understand.
His phone buzzed. He lifted it out of his pocket and she could see the screen.
A woman’s face appeared by the call sign, next to the name ‘Marlena’.
Who’s Marlena?
‘I must take this,’ he said, then stepped away from her.