The bass is thumping, the treble's thrumming and your body's humming – that's how you know it's going to be a good, good night. And to think you almost missed out.
Your besties practically chicknapped you from your place, wrestling clothes onto your body on the way out the door, but right now you're glad you aren't stuck home, alone, processing over a tub of Rocky Road and searching for templates of true love on Netflix of all places.
You're also glad they didn't ask you to talk about it. You don't want to talk to anyone about anything – you're all talked out. You just want that care-free feeling you get only when you're out drinking and dancing with your girlfriends on a rare night out. Nothing else matters but this moment. The future can wait.
So you're having fun, bumping and grinding on the club's jam-packed dancefloor with your girl Riley, who can dance circles around anyone but you like to pretend you're keeping up. That's when you feel a pointed tap on your hip.
"Hey M, I think you have an admirer. One o'clock."
She has to yell it straight into your ear, but as soon as Susie says this, you know exactly who she's talking about. You've been feeling those eyes on you all night long like a gravitational pull.
"Are you two gonna just eye-fuck each other all night, or what?" Riley chimes in, having noticed as well.
You laugh out loud because that's exactly what it is; and trust her to always be so blunt. You don't give an answer though, just a coy shrug because you are so not in the mood. Right now you just want to dance, and if it attracts a little attention, so be it.
You turn away as you continue to sway. The music seamlessly transforms into a relaxed rhythm; nothing but the drums and the bass to guide your body's mindless motion. It's like you're a marionette controlled by the ghostly strings of a four-four beat to the tempo of your own pulse. The vibrations of sound coming through the speakers are tangible kinetic energy, possessing your muscles and joints with an untameable urge to just move.
And then electricity. You weren't sure before, but when you're finally caught in the vortex of those intense dark orbs, gazing at you from that same spot across the room, it becomes entirely possible that there's a charged current coursing right through you.
Boy, it's hot in here.
The mysterious figure seems to barely move or blink, and yet you falter, starting to feel a little off- kilter. It's the strangest sensation stirring within you; that of being suspended in time and space, between reality and a dream simultaneously illuminated and distorted by strobe lights, lasers and smoke machines. Time slows to a pause… only resuming with the quirk of a lopsided grin, and your mouth mirrors it without forethought.
She holds the strings, you realise.
Because you can almost feel the tug of her dilated pupils, the heat of her stare ghosting over your clammy skin to leave a trail of goosebumps you can't logically explain in this crowded area, and so you tell yourself that you've had your last drink for the night.
You take a deep breath and lift your arms above you, manicured fingers running slowly through voluminous silky locks, short nails grazing your scalp while your hips rock from side to side in step with the slow but riotous beat. Your high-heeled feet shift in time beneath you as you command a certain someone's spotlight in that short, black leather skirt and patterned, long-sleeve crop top that shows off your 'yoga body' as your friends say. Your eyes are half-lidded from the effects of the generous supply of drinks throughout the night, but your answering gaze is unwavering, glued to the tall brunette with brooding good looks who's casually leaning against the bar – watching you back without a hint of shame.
That's the best word you can come up with to describe the way she is undressing you – item by item – with her guileless gaze. Attentive eyes latch onto you, travelling from your eyes to your lips, down your neck and over your chest and you almost have to double-check that your bra hasn't spontaneously unclasped. Lower still, they trail over your bare stomach and a warm zephyr tickles your sides. You decide you must be only imagining your top riding higher up, but then…
You gasp, body slowing as you glance up, having momentarily shut your eyes. She sips straight from a glass bottle to cover a smirk and you almost draw blood from the glossy lip wedged between your teeth.
Because then you think you feel your underwear glide slowly down over the curve of your hips and the swell of your ass, then descend your thighs like it's not all in your mind. Like you aren't in public with dozens of bodies between you and her, but rather just the couple of you in a silent, dimmed bedroom - waiting to taste each other for the first time.
You surprise yourself with that thought. You've never met this woman, yet here you stand amidst a rolling sea of bodies – dumbfounded – feeling naked and raw under that penetrating gaze alone.
And you've never felt so sexy in your life.
Words are unimportant. Speech is almost out of the question when everything you both need to communicate can be done through body language alone. The unfiltered need and want pulsating through you translates flawlessly through your zealous lips and limbs.
You gather that she isn't much of a talker and you're grateful for that little fact. You're also grateful that she seems to have a firm grip on the both of your bearings, because you can't even recall how you two got back to your place, let alone decide on which part of her alluring body you want to touch first – so you just pull closer, hold tighter, kiss harder.
Her mouth tastes like some type of beer and a hint of mints as you meet in a messy, bruising kiss, propelling you both through the front door. The door urgently slams shut. She groans and you moan in turn as she spins you around and pushes you back against the solid piece of lumber, fixing you in place with the length of her body.
She feels absolutely sensational and you aren't shocked by the trickle of arousal that has been gradually soaking your underwear, coating your inner thighs where you stand while she kisses you like all she wants is to be inside you one way or another.
Now that she has her hands on you – all over you – her intent is clearer than ever, and you're surprising yourself every new second with how badly you want her too. This girl you've known all of five minutes. You want her fingers running through your hair and outlining your jaw, hands sliding down your neck, over your collarbones, fondling your breasts and caressing your stomach just as they are now, exploring you with the fluid exigency of a painter. Your hips want her hands on them, stroking upwards over your ribs and even further up until her fingertips have mapped you out over and over to the point where your skin aches for it.
This is the most intense case of arousal you've felt in a while and it scares you a little, but instead of defaulting to cautious curiosity or outright running in the opposite direction, you give into the feeling, slipping your trembling fingers under her shirt. Because when was the last time you scared yourself lately?
You go into a momentary cardiac arrest when she suddenly pulls back. Then you're brought back to life by the sound of her voice - and fuck if she doesn't have the sexiest one you've ever heard.
"Can I fuck you up against this door?" she whispers against your lips, and with such veneration; as if she were reciting poetry to a long-time lover under the shade of a tree one Spring day – which is completely in contrast with her actual words and her hands' movements over your ass to bunch your skirt up around your waist. If your underwear wasn't ruined before, this would have definitely done it.
Your stomach is in sailor knots and you're so turned on you could power the Sun. Your fingernails dig just shy of painfully into her warm skin, pulling her so close you're panting against her mouth. "Yeah," you consent on a breathless whisper, "Just do it."
Your eyes slam shut as two things happen in quick succession. First, this girl rips your underwear off like it's made of rice paper. And then, before your mind or body can form a response, she's on her knees and your leg's on her shoulder, the beautiful stranger's fingers knuckle-deep inside you.
You cry out in shock, clenching reflexively around her, but then you surprise yourself yet again by almost instantly settling into the new rhythm. Your hips are once again controlled by her, working in counter with the sensual sucking of her hot mouth on your throbbing center and the punishing pace of her long digits as she fingers you into oblivion.
She slips in and out of you with such ease that you just know you're as wet as the ocean floor. You can hear yourself making desperate noises and exclaiming in expletives and just really sounding as overwhelmed as you feel about being fucked so damn well. You can't focus on anything at all but what's happening between your legs, even as you bang the back of your head against the door, hands unsure what to do with themselves. Your body's movements rattle the frame you're leaning against, but it doesn't even cross your mind what your neighbours may hear and think. You yourself can barely think.
Your orgasm is embarrassingly quick.
Her reflexes are impressive as she quickly gets back up to catch you when you start sliding down the door, keeping you close and shaking slightly with what you gather is silent laughter – and now you're blushing for more reasons than one.
"It's okay. I got you," she says.
You didn't realize how wound up you were and you kind of want to push off of her and hide after she slowly slips out of you and pulls you close, but your legs can't stand it yet so you cling on.
"That never… I never..." you try on a long exhale. And again you're glad she isn't much of a talker because your brain is still offline and you're too busy trying to come down from a dizzying summit to explain yourself any further.
"Couch?" she asks simply, and after a moment you nod in earnest, shuddering still.
However, resting is the last thing on your minds.
You eventually realise that you're both still fully clothed, apart from the sliver of material formerly your underwear, when you feel the buckle of her belt blocking the path your hand slides down her torso as she kisses you; as you taste a bit of yourself on her tongue. And as if horny minds think alike, she leans away to pull your top over your head and tosses it before tugging the cups of your lacy red bra down. You climb into her lap to afford her better access to your sensitive nipples and your hips move with the swirling of her tongue; around and around like an old record playing your favourite song.
Head thrown back, you bring hers closer after undoing your bra completely, and you swear you could cum like this. But ultimately you push her shoulders against the couch when you decide you want to see and feel her just as much as you want her touching you. So you make quick work of her plain white t-shirt and black bra.
She is unreal.
Your eyes greedily take her in, but your hands are quicker to touch. Hearts pound at the sound of her breathy groans and soft murmurs as you kiss her inked neck and chest, tracing the beautiful designs on her skin with your tongue.
Goosebumps prickle on her skin when your mouth moves down to her breasts, your tongue cautiously flicking out to play with the metal amongst the flesh. Your bodies are already covered in a light sheen of sweat as your short nails drag over her ridiculously defined stomach – which quivers at the touch – and after several torturous minutes, her hips roll suggestively beneath you, unable to help herself as she seeks more contact. You look up to find her gripping her own hair with the hand that isn't cradling the back of your neck, licking her lips, looking at you through low lashes and pitch black eyes. Time stops dead.
You hold onto her belt like you're on a mechanical bull when she suddenly pulls your face in for a short but ravenous kiss, teeth nipping your lips with the playfulness of a hungry tigress. Then she pulls back and strokes her left thumb over your wet and swollen bottom lip. Out of habit, you lick your lips, but when the tip of your tongue grazes the tip of her finger, giving her pause, your first instinct is to suck it into your mouth, tongue swirling around it before you've even thought it through.
She swallows visibly and you aren't sure if the look she gives you is terrifying or tantalizing – or both – and, not for the first time tonight, you feel a spark akin to incineration at this slight tipping of the scales. She slowly pulls her thumb out of your mouth with the first hint of reluctance you've detected from her all along, but before you can even entertain the idea of any doubts on her part, her gaze subtly darts down towards her own lap – where your hands are still gripping her belt.
Awareness floods back through your senses like a mob of escaped wild horses manifesting in an erratic hopscotch-heartbeat. You don't know if it's performance anxiety or just your own general awkwardness that you're feeling, but in front of this amazing woman you can literally feel the heat emanating from your face and ears as it meets the cool air of your living room, making you feel radioactive with desire yet also glowing in the dark with embarrassment when you find yourself curious how she tastes, but you hesitate.
Common sense tries to talk you out of this but your libido is louder and unafraid to fight dirty. So you compromise?
"Are you...?" your lips remain frozen in a pout, unable to finish the question. This is so embarrassing. You've never had to do this before. How does Riley do it all the time?
"I'm clean," she answers the unasked question. "You?"
You can only nod, freaking out that you may have killed the mood. Far from it.
Dark eyes still glued to yours, she lets her hands trail away from your body and slowly nudges your hands away to unbuckle her own belt, smiling up at you when you don't try to stop her. You can tell she's a girl who knows what she wants, and you secretly wish that part of her would rub off on you tonight. Among other parts.
That silly pun echoes in your head and the unprompted eyeroll and smile you smile catches her curiosity.
"Something funny?" she asks.
Mustering up a little more confidence, you wordlessly manoeuvre off the couch onto your knees before her, and she doesn't hesitate to undo the top button and pull her dark jeans and underwear all the way off, boots following. She brings her hips closer to the edge of the couch -
"Actually, do you mind just..."
You start pulling the throw blanket from off the back of the couch and motion for her to sit on it. Which she does without protest. Then you pick up where you left off.
- So she brings her hips closer to the edge of the couch and watches in anticipation as you caress her thighs, kissing teasingly down her stomach, licking the contours of her abs for long seconds because clearly you're obsessed, and then, with the same mischievous smile you smiled earlier, you boldly say, "I've been dying to taste you," before finally submerging your head in-between.
She immediately gasps when wet heat meets wet heat, jerking forward toward you like metal to magnet. You feel her swipe your hair up and gather it into a loose fist as her eyes burn a hole through your forehead. Your own eyes are shut in concentration as you spread her lower lips apart, nose tickled by short coarse curls as you let your tongue and lips lick, loop, lure and lap at her pulsating clit like the cunning linguist you are. That's when she starts slurring so many different obscenities, they could make sailors blush.
Your ministrations are fast and furious because it's apparent you lack self-control, but when you bring your fingers to swirl around her entrance to gather wetness for the second prong of this pleasuring assault, she roughly tugs on your hair, snapping your eyes back up to hers.
"Just your mouth," she husks and loosens her grip just as quickly as if trusting you got the message.
For a naughty moment you wonder what would happen if you disobeyed, and the thrill that shoots through you at the prospect is quickly filed away for later processing because your current actions are using up all of your processing power. Also she basically said no, so no.
When you got into your pyjamas and raided the freezer earlier tonight, this certainly isn't the way you had imagined your night would go – ending up topless and on your knees on your living room floor with your head buried between a beautiful stranger's long quivering legs – but here you are, and nothing else exists.
When she cums, it's dead-quiet.
Even though your jaw and tongue have been at it for what seems like a while, you're so engrossed you don't even realize it's happening until the grip on your hair tightens yet again and you feel her body shake off the Richter scale. You look up, replacing your tongue with a thumb, just in time to catch her eyes slam shut, face contorting in breathless bliss, mouth parted for a silent exclamation.
For a moment you can't help but stare as her body shivers, torso undulating with the lilt of her disjointed breathing, because you've never seen a more breath-taking sight.
Then in the next few moments, you're convinced she isn't even human because no more than ten seconds later she's back on you, urging you onto the living room carpet and climbing over you before your bodies can miss each other's heat for a moment longer. You breathe sharply through your nose as she tastes herself on your lips and tongue and chin, almost devouring your very essence with her ferocity.
She's caught her second wind, you gather, and it leaves you winded.
Everything is fast and hard with her and you can barely catch up as your skirt makes its way off of you somehow and finally her entire body is pressed against yours. You both moan at the incredible awareness.
Both your voices break like glass bottles in a bar fight when she presses her thigh between your legs, quickly building you up again. Even under the curtain of hair falling around you, you see the glint of her hooded eyes looking into yours as you open wider and thrust upwards against her, both slipping and sliding over each other trying to get enough friction for some type of release.
Hips erratically in sync, the pace is primal. Your clit is on fire and you're already so close you can taste it. So close you're crazed and babbling and grabbing at anything you can get your hands on. Soft hair, slick skin, hard edges… it doesn't matter what.
But when, after an eternity squeezed into a couple of minutes, she suddenly stops moving, a desperate whine pierces the air. You barely recognize it as your own.
"Not yet," she says, "Don't cum yet."
You're incredulous; too hysterical to wonder how she knew you were almost there as you whimper. "Wait, why did you stop?"
When you try to grab and force her hips against you, your wrists are swiftly trapped on either side of your head and held there as she holds still like this isn't the cruelest joke you've ever heard.
Your heart beats against your chest like a war gong and you feel like you're going insane.
You don't want to beg if that's what she's expecting. You refuse to beg and so you don't. Not as she shifts to kneel between your legs, placing no pressure where you need it most, and lays the lightest whisper of a kiss on your neck.
You shake your head from side to side and uselessly push against her strong hands in defiance. You don't want this, these soft touches and caresses, when there's an inferno burning in the pit of your stomach. It hardly seems fair.
But she doesn't stop there.
On her way down, the tip of her tongue tickles the very point of a straining nipple and your back impatiently arches for more, but of course she pulls away.
"Fuck!" you yell at the top of your lungs, not finding any of this cute. The screaming is surprisingly therapeutic and she does pause for a moment… but only just. Then she teases the opposite nipple.
The change of pace has you unnerved and you can feel your mind slowly leaving your head. Her mouth kisses and caresses and licks and sucks and bites and sucks and licks and caresses and kisses and bites every-single-where until she's mapped your whole upper body with her lips and tongue and teeth. And it's only after minutes of this, when your body has settled into a steadily vibrating moaning mess that she finally says, "You ready?" and your entire body sighs in relief.
"Please..." It accidentally slips out of your mouth on a desperate breath but you don't even care enough to care.
Her mouth covers yours as she enters you with enough fingers to fill you up, going as deep as she can, pushing against the back of her wrist with her hips and using her socked toes for leverage.
You're gonna cum so hard.
The whoosh of blood rushing around your head as it bobs along with the rest of your body…
The loud and explicit slurs coming out of your mouth and reverberating all around your apartment whenever your lips part…
The wet sound of her fingers ruthlessly penetrating your sex, curling up and hitting the right spot every single glorious goddamn time while her thumb rubs your clit like it'll give her three wishes…
The staccato cadence of your shrill pants and her harsh breaths as the girl on top of you – inside of you – watches you, tattooing you onto her irises…
The sudden smack on her ass as you grab onto each cheek with each hand, advocating her missionary mission…
All these noises make up the soundtrack to your building skyscraper of an orgasm; the best you'll ever have.
And when she whispers once more directly into your ear, cancelling out all the other noises that you can hear, everything goes quiet as you nosedive. "Let go."