The line moved forward and they shifted with it. The closer they got to the door, the more Lila couldn’t wait to get in. She chatted with her friends, but her mind was on the music she could hear throbbing on the edges of her senses. More felt than heard, it strummed the filaments of her nerves. Her body itched with the need to move, to dance. By the time the bouncers waved them through the doors of the club, Lila felt like she was about to crawl out of her skin.
Stepping in through the club’s entrance was like traveling into another world. Somewhere grungier, dirtier, more raw. Designed to look like a rundown industrial building, Deliria catered to those who wanted to slum it without the actual slum. It reminded Lila of the raves she had gone to as a teenager. Even the music was more or less the same, a heavy pounding rhythm that battered its way into her body and promised to leave her ears ringing for days.
Following the others to the bar, Lila felt a wave of adrenaline rush through her. It felt like she was glowing, shining like the colored lights that strobed the darkness. She didn’t want a drink.
Grabbing hold of Nicole’s arm, Lila pointed first at herself and then at the packed dance floor. Nicole frowned, but nodded in understanding. Just in front of Nicole, Mike turned and raised an eyebrow in question. Lila blew him a kiss, and then she was diving through the crowd. She’d find her friends later or they’d find her. First she needed to get rid of some of this pent-up energy before she spontaneously combusted.
Bodies buffeted her as she wove her way to the middle of the dance floor. Raising her arms above her head, Lila squeezed and shimmied through the roiling mass of dancers. Limbs brushed her as she moved forward, hands reaching out to stroke over her. One grabbed her ass, squeezing hard before she twisted away.
By the time she got to the center of the writhing throng, her sweat-glazed skin hummed with sensitivity. Her heart thundered in time with the music, her blood burning like ribbons of fire threaded through her body. She felt alive, so alive. With a delirious grin, Lila gave herself over to the seduction of the music, closed her eyes and moved.
One tune finished then flowed seamlessly into another. Lila whirled and writhed, swayed and undulated. She moved as if she were fucking the air and loving every minute of it.
Strong hands slid over the curves of Lila’s hip bones, pulling her back into a masculine body. She knew it was a man not just by the size of the hands, but also the rigidly hard erection pressing against her buttocks. Lila’s breath caught, but she didn’t stop dancing. A lazy smile flirted on her lips as she covered his hands with her own and ground her ass back into the cradle of his hips.
Wetness spilled from Lila’s cunt. Dancing always aroused her, but the feel of his body moving against hers unleashed a slick torrent between her thighs. Her body, already primed by the sensuality in the atmosphere, started to throb. The thin fabric of her thong was barely a shield to the plumped up pearl of her clit. She could feel it peeking out from the lips of her pussy. Every time she moved her thighs or her dress brushed against it, a lick of heat darted through her.
He pressed in close, plastering his front to her back. Sweat stuck them together. Lila’s eyes fluttered, hips swiveling to rub against him teasingly.
His hands tightened, fingertips digging into the soft expanse of her belly. Not much taller than Lila, he only had to dip his head slightly to press kisses along her shoulder. Seduced by the firmness of his lips and the rasp of his stubble on the sensitive skin of her neck, she tilted her head and let him have his way. Sliding one hand up his arm, Lila reached behind her and threaded her fingers through the soft hair at his nape. Sharp teeth nipped at her earlobe, making her jump. A hot wet tongue laved at the small pain, making her shiver. Lila’s nipples hardened.
This was bad, so very naughty.
Lila loved it.
Excitement sparkled through her veins as if her blood were champagne.
His hands slid lower. The flirty hem of her ultra-short dress barely hit midthigh, so his hands didn’t have to travel too far to touch skin. The tips of his fingers brushed just beneath the edge of her skirt. Lila bit her lip to keep from moaning even though no one would have heard her. Her hand, curled around his forearm, tightened. Lila could feel the hardness of his muscles beneath her fingers. She wanted to turn around, to look into his face as he touched her, but the act of not looking was so hot she didn’t. Instead, she just reveled in the feel of him pressed up against her, with the planes of his chest and stomach firm against her back, the steel-hard bulge of his cock rubbing against her ass.
Fingers stroked her upper thighs. A silent question. Lila’s breath hitched. Her cheeks, already red with heat and exertion, blazed even hotter.
Was she really going to do this?
Even as her mind contemplated the question, her body was acting, her legs parting. Any objections she might have had were obliterated by the brush of fingers against the sodden fabric of her thong.
All around them people were dancing, jumping, cheering. Their proximity was another turn-on, the thrill of being seen electrifying her nerves and making Lila reckless.
The air hissed from Lila’s lungs. The thrum of the music faded away, replaced by the thudding beat of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears. The crowd danced less, the movements of their bodies following a different beat. Her legs widened a little more. Her spine arched in a sharp curve, pushing her ass into him. His cock nestled in between her buttocks. On her shoulder, his lips moved. A smile.
Impatient fingers nudged her thong aside. Lila gasped and then groaned, the noise swallowed by the music. Her clit throbbed demandingly, her cunt spilling creamy arousal over his fingers as he slid them through the saturated folds of her sex. He didn’t tease her and she was glad. She didn’t want to be teased.
Lila’s mouth gaped. Two thick fingers speared her, plunging deep into the hot wetness of her pussy. A pinch of pain brightened her pleasure as his touch forced her to open, stretching the delicate muscles ruthlessly.
Rapture streaked up Lila’s spine, forked like lightning over the inside of her skull.
His other hand coasted up her body, grazed her pebbled nipple and wrapped around her throat. Tilting her head back, he tormented the tender skin of her neck with lips and teeth and tongue. He pumped his fingers into her, the heel of his palm grinding against her swollen clit. Her hips moved, helping him work her. Each stroke pushed her closer and closer to orgasm until, with a shattered cry, she broke. Her body strained, every muscle rigid with the onslaught of pleasure. She didn’t know if the lights dancing before her eyes were in her head or the club’s light show.
Lila’s body clung greedily to his fingers as he slid them free of her. From the corner of her half-hooded eyes she watched him bring his hand up to his mouth. She whimpered at the thought of him sucking away the slick juices of her orgasm. Her belly tightened in renewed arousal. Pressing her hips back, she rubbed against his erection in blatant invitation.
She felt movement behind her. Lila had only a few seconds to wonder what he was doing and then his fingers were yanking her thong to the side, the blunt head of his dick sliding through the folds of her pussy. She sucked in a breath, her mouth falling open. Her thoughts scrambled as he overshot, the ridge of his cock catching her oversensitive clit. A jolt of sensation rocketed through her and then his dick, hard and thick, was pushing into her.
She’d thought they’d go somewhere else. The toilets. A dark corner, which Deliria had plenty of. Outside maybe. Lila hadn’t thought that he’d fuck her in the middle of a crowd of people, but she found he felt too good for her to care.
Trembling, her hand tightening in his hair, Lila arched her hips backward and let him in. Fabric rubbed against her ass; she realized her dress still covered her, and he’d only unzipped himself enough to get his cock out. The thought gave her an inexplicable thrill. Pushing back, she took every inch of his cock into her pussy. He was big, deliciously so, but she was so very wet from arousal and orgasm that he slid into her in one smooth, po
werful glide.
For a moment, disbelief stilled the world. She was letting someone fuck her on the dance floor. Was she insane? Then he started to move against her, in her. Strong thrusts as his hands gripped her hips with bruising strength. In and out, his cock so big she could feel its thick veins rubbing inside of her and driving her crazy with lust.
Sensations bombarded her. The music, the other dancers, the dizzying lights, his breath hot on her neck and his hard dick moving in her spasming pussy. Lila’s senses reeled. She couldn’t control the pleasure spinning through her, couldn’t stop it. Her cunt squeezed his shuttling cock tighter and tighter, the friction a delicious pressure that suddenly exploded in an incandescent starburst. A scream tore from her throat and was quickly rendered silent by the blaring music.
Pleasure cascaded through her. Diamond-tipped needles raked over her senses, scoring deeper when she felt the thick length of him pulse deep inside her. His fingers bit into her hips; vibrations rumbled against her spine as he groaned. Heat blossomed in her belly, softening the last jagged peaks of her orgasm.
They stood, joined together and motionless in the seething mass of dancers, both breathing hard. Then he slipped his cock out of her. Lila whimpered. Fingers tugged her underwear back into place. Hot wetness leaked out of her pussy. A little escaped her thong and trickled down her thigh. She brought her legs together, smearing the sticky trail.
Lila could feel him moving behind her, zipping himself up.
Hands on her shoulders spun her around. Mike grinned at her, eyes gleaming playfully in the flashing lights. Lila had a moment to feel not shocked, and then he was kissing her. His firm lips caught at hers, his tongue flicking out to lick across her mouth. Lila’s eyelids fluttered; her breath hitched. She leaned forward for more, but he was already melting into the crowd with a wink and a smirk.
Lila stared after him. Her pussy was sore, sticky with his come. Part of her wanted to go after him and drag him home for some more, but she figured she’d find him later.
A smile pulling at her lips, Lila let the music take her over again.
JAILBAIT TORCH SONG
Valerie Alexander
Lyla tried to be a good single mother. She’d finished her degree despite getting pregnant at nineteen, had gotten a good job as a network engineer, and bought a house in the most affluent neighborhood in her small town. All of this was to provide her ten-year-old son, Jax, with the kind of life people predicted he wouldn’t have without a father. The right friends from the right families, connections, memories, the whole Norman Rockwell dream. Usually she succeeded and usually it came at a cost she didn’t like paying: specifically, a lack of available men. All of the local men seemed to be someone’s husband. On a few occasions she’d found herself eyeing a beautiful young man only to realize, mortified, that she’d been lusting for someone’s older teenage son.
Part of being a good single mother was cooking good meals, which is why she was laboring over an elaborate marinara sauce when the doorbell rang one January evening.
She opened the door to find a tall, lanky boy on her stoop. He had hair that fell between brown and blond, blue-green eyes and honeyed skin so flawless she felt a physical pang of envy. They looked at each other without speaking for three beats too long.
“Hi,” he said finally.
She decided that he had the wrong house. He looked a little old to be in high school, but no one hung around this town after graduation. He was probably here to pick up a friend who lived in the neighborhood.
She pushed a loose strand of auburn hair back into her ponytail. “Who are you looking for?”
“Uh, you. I mean, anyone.” He fumbled with a clipboard. “I’m a senior on the basketball team, and we’re trying to raise money for camp by selling magazines.”
He was here to sell something. Of course. About twice a month some high-school group rang her bell, trying to finance new uniforms or a class trip. She kept her gaze trained on his clipboard while he showed her the selections so her eyes wouldn’t betray this baffling sensation of her heart skittering around in her chest.
“Sure,” she said. “That Young Explorers magazine, I’ll get that for my son.”
“You’re married?” He sounded shocked.
“No,” she said.
She kept her eyes away from him as he followed her into the kitchen, tracking snow on the tile. Maintaining a rigidly cool smile—no, she wasn’t flustered at all, there were no butterflies in her stomach—she wrote him a check. His name was Tanner. He sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and commented on how good the sauce smelled, his eyes locked on her face.
She handed him the check and smiled tightly. “Thanks for coming by.”
“You’re welcome.” He hesitated. “Well, I guess that’s it.”
“The sauce is going to burn,” she said. “I don’t mean to be rude but…”
“Sorry.” He hustled to the door, shoulder brushing the door-jamb—he wasn’t quite at home in that towering body yet—and stopped again to look back at her. She looked at his blue jacket, which was what the high-school athletes wore around town, and then at the dark-green Jeep Cherokee parked outside. Then she met his eyes. He was watching her with blazing, naked hope.
Her stomach plunged to her feet and she stepped away. “Thanks,” she said again and then, “Good luck with your season.”
“You should come to a game,” he said.
“Maybe. Good night.”
Lyla shut the door. She couldn’t get back in the kitchen fast enough, back to the domestic innocence of the marinara on the stove and Jax’s karate class schedule on the refrigerator. That didn’t really just happen, she told herself. She hadn’t really just swooned over a high-school kid. She looked at the melting sludge tracked in from his sneakers and reached for a paper towel. Then she let it melt on its own, leaving a faint dirty mark on the tile that her eyes returned to repeatedly over the next few days.
A week later she found herself sitting at the train station, watching the parking lot across the street. Afternoon was turning to evening and a heavy snow was coming down; she had dropped Jax off at karate class and now she couldn’t stop looking at a dark-green Jeep Cherokee coated with frothy snow outside the bagel shop.
He could be eighteen, she said to herself. And then: but this is still crazy.
When she went in, a thin, sullen-looking boy watched her from the counter. Her heart fell with a mix of disappointment and relief.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes—a sesame bagel. Regular cream cheese.” She dug into her purse.
To the right of her vision, a door swung open. “Hey,” Tanner said. “Lyla.”
She turned. “Oh! Hi!” Her voice sounded false. “So this is where you work.”
“Yeah, just at night.” His eyes were as alive and enamored as an animal’s. “I’m eighteen, so I can close.”
I’m eighteen. Message delivered. She took out a five-dollar bill to pay the cashier. “So how have you been?”
“All right. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“Well—” She accepted the change back. “It’s a small town.”
His eyes were rapidly studying her coat, her hair. Eighteen—or so he said—and intent on escalating a bad idea. His long body gave the impression of straining toward her like a dog on a leash. “So did your magazine come yet?”
“No. Didn’t you say it would take a month?” She took the bagged bagel from the cashier. “See you later.”
He backed away with a contrived boyish smile and a wave. Outside the sky was a heavy gray and visibility was poor through the thick flurry of flakes. After starting the car, she sat in the driver’s seat. She gazed through the windshield, her heart hammering wildly. Suddenly there was a knock on the window. She lowered it and a soft wall of snow sprinkled onto her jeans.
He leaned into the car. “I just wanted to tell you that we have a home game tomorrow night. You should come.”
“Yeah, I can’t do that
.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have a reason to be there,” she said. “Because it would look weird.”
He walked away. Puzzled, she waited for him to return and say good-bye. Then the passenger door swung open and he climbed in the car.
Oh no. Quickly she elevated her window. “I have to pick up my son,” she said.
Then his hand was in her hair, hauling her across the seat and onto his long body as if she were weightless. He was shaking. His arms went around her, pulling her against his chest so hard she could feel his heart thumping. He kissed her with almost feverish desperation, his cold hands sliding up under her sweater and under her bra. “Don’t stop me,” he muttered into her mouth and then she was grinding all over the promise of his hard cock, humping him with abandon.
In a flash, he had the seat down and was pulling her over him. She pushed his shirt up, burying her face in his warm skin. Then a car door slammed nearby.
Lyla sat up in alarm. “Don’t stop,” Tanner urged, trying to pull her back down, but she was already adjusting her sweater and climbing back into her seat.
“You have to go,” she said in a shaky voice.
He didn’t protest. Instead he kissed her good-bye—that earlier plea in his eyes was now replaced with a self-satisfied smile, she noticed—and climbed out of the car.
Eighteen. In high school. It was worse than crazy, it was wrong. And yet his silky hair, that hard, athlete’s body—she bit her pillow as she fingered herself that night, wishing it was him.
Lyla’s closest friend in the neighborhood was Anne from the cul de sac behind hers. At forty-two, Anne was a little older than she was. Her kids were already in college so Lila was surprised when she called the next evening and invited her to the basketball game. “My niece cheers for the varsity team. I know it’s not exactly exciting but we could go out to eat after.”
Hungry for More Page 13