Once: A Collection of Sinfully Sexy and Twisted Tales

by Anthology

  The beat of the song is insane, and there are more people on the dance floor now. I’m in the middle of the chaos, but even with everyone around me, I notice when he is near. It’s like my body is already tuned into him. Like I know exactly when he is near, and can tell as he moves closer. Knowing he’s right behind me, being able to smell his cologne he’s so close, I start to dance a little harder. A little edgier. A little sexier than I would on any other night.

  With my arms in the air, I slowly back up until our bodies connect and I feel the sudden rush of energy I have received every time we touch. Such an amazing feeling, something I’d never get used to.

  His hands rest on my hips and I feel him moving with me. The music keeps going, the strobe lights beating to the rhythm, but all I feel, all I smell, is him. The man from the bar. The man who still hasn’t told me his name.

  I turn and see him, so serious, moving with me, eyes locked on mine. I can’t talk right now, the speakers are so close he wouldn’t hear a thing I was saying. Our eyes are still locked, the connection I felt earlier is back, and I’m in awe of this man. How in the world does he do that? He seems like he only sees me, and not the other hundred or so nearly naked women dancing all around him.

  Still moving to the music, my body has a mind of its own, and before I know it, my hands are on his face. Cataloging all of his features. The sharp jaw, the ever so subtle stubble on his face. His buzzed hair is softer than I imagined, so I slowly run my hands over it, then back down his cheeks. There’s a scar over his eyebrow, and I pull my eyebrows together noticing it. I feel like I’ve looked at this man a million times, like I’m so connected to him I already know these features, but that throws me off.

  My eyes go back to his, and he still hasn’t taken his eyes off me. His jaw is tight, and his hands have tightened their hold on me.

  Possessive much?

  I move my hands to his, as an invitation to loosen his grip, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he pulls me closer so I can feel just why he doesn’t want me to move. I gasp, then smile seductively.

  I see now. Rather, I feel now. I continue moving, dancing and grinding into him, my hands roaming all over his arms and face, never breaking eye contact with him. The heat from our connection is almost unbearable, and if it weren’t for the hundred or more people around me, I would already be face fucking this guy.

  “I really want to kiss you, but I don’t know your name,” he has to say incredibly loud near my ear just for me to hear him.

  Still smiling, I stare into his eyes as the song quiets down. Shaking my head, I back out of his grip and walk off the dance floor. I might be here to pick someone up, but we aren’t doing it on the dance floor. I’m a little classier than that.

  A little... not much.

  I find a table far away from the speakers and grab a water from a waiter walking by. Sitting on the chair, I see him follow my lead, grabbing a water and sitting across from me.

  “Why do I feel like you are constantly running from me?” he asks, taking a drink of his water and pushing up his shirt sleeves.

  Well hello ink. Goddammit, this dude is fucking hot.

  “I don’t run away,” I say, dead ass serious. “And I never give up.”

  “Good. I like that quality in a woman.” His eyes are locked on mine again. Without letting me speak, he goes on, “What else am I going to like about you? That hair is... special. Different.”

  His smile is trying not to break through, but I see his façade cracking. He’s trying to come off as a serious, no nonsense man, but I can see the goofball underneath. The thirty something man who still likes to play video games on the weekend, and a night out equals a trip to the Microsoft store.

  “Well, I’ll tell you. You’re going to LOVE the fact that this isn’t my real hair color,” I laugh and go on. “You also will enjoy the fact that I can eat my weight in cheeseburgers and not gain a pound.”

  “I have a feeling I wouldn’t mind even if you did,” he growls.

  Oh he’s really, really good.

  “Tell me something about you. What’s your name?” I ask. While he considers my question, I let my sandal fall off my foot and slowly start caressing his leg under the table.

  It’s Texas. It’s hot. I have a feeling, though, that the bead of sweat forming on his temple isn’t from the heat outside, being that it’s air conditioned inside this club.

  “Uh... my name? It’s Frank.”

  I laugh. Loud. I can’t help it... this dude doesn’t look like a ‘Frank’.

  “No way!” I say through my laughter. Oh my God, I can’t stop laughing! Jesus, now I look like a bitch!

  “What? What’s wrong with it?!” His smile is starting to crack through more, and I know he is trying his hardest not to laugh along with me.

  Poor guy.

  “Nothing... nothing is wrong with it! Ish....” I can’t stop laughing.

  “The fuck it is!? You can’t stop laughing at me! What’s your name, then?” he asks.

  That shuts me up.

  “Lynn. My name is Lynn,” I say straight-faced.

  “Oh great! Lynn and Frank. We sound like an old fucking couple from the south! Oh Jesus... FRANKLYNN!” He’s laughing now, and I want to hear that laugh more often. It’s deep, forceful, but it relaxes me.

  I love his laugh.

  “Jesus, our parents must have HATED us!” I laugh along with him, until I see him stop laughing.

  Shit.

  “Oh... I’m sorry. That was mean.” I say, now feeling insanely mean, and awkward, and everything I wasn’t feeling just a few minutes ago.

  I feel the need to apologize again, but I see his features change back to the relaxed state from earlier and decide not to push on.

  “Listen, Frank, I have some... rules,” I say, leaning in closer to him.

  “I’m listening,” he says, mirroring my movements.

  We’re inches apart, and he’s so intent on hearing what I have to say, but all I can think about is leaning in just that small amount to kiss him. To feel his lips against mine. To taste him. I really don’t have any rules, really I’m just playing around. Trying to break the terrible mood change I just created.

  “Okay...” I pause, waiting for him to give up on me before I have to think of something on the spot.

  I laugh at the insane situation, and decide to throw out there the first thing that comes to mind.

  “I can’t do a guy with a bird. No. Never. Just... no.” That’s it. That’s the first thing that came to my mind. What the fuck is wrong with my mind?!

  “Good thing I have no pets,” he flashes me a genuine smile and I almost push the few inches closer to him to kiss the breath out of him, but I hold back.

  “Good. Number two,” I start in, right as his hand grabs ahold of my foot that is still caressing his leg.

  I still, and smile, as he starts massaging my foot.

  “Oh Jesus,” I moan as he adds just enough pressure above my heel to make me go weak in the knees and wet in other places.

  “Your rules? Go on, I’m listening,” he practically whispers as his hands work magic on my foot.

  “Yes. Second rule. Never... fight. Never night. Fight. Never fight,” I say, mentally kicking myself for losing my train of thought and sounding like a complete moron. His hands are so good I can’t even think straight anymore.

  He stills and smiles at me.

  “Oh yea? No fighting? How’s that working out for you?” He smiles a knowing smile at me.

  “Oh... good. Fine, all good.” I take a drink of my water and look out to the dance floor, sighing at the exquisite feeling of his hands on my skin.

  He keeps rubbing my foot, and I sigh and lean back in my chair. Jesus Christ, his hands are magical. My entire body is tingling from our bare skin touching. I’m so turned on by a foot massage, so ready to fuck him on top of this table, when suddenly his fingers find that one spot, the one pressure point I’ve heard of but never experienced, and I’m immediately ready t
o combust. Shit! Jesus, what the hell is that?! I gasp and look over at him to see him grinning devilishly at me, still massaging my foot.

  “You ok over there?” he asks, still smiling innocently.

  “What was that?” I grind out, not liking that I don’t have the upper hand on this night anymore.

  Nope. I lost control the minute he made me almost orgasm in my seat from a fucking foot massage.

  “You look like you needed a little tension reliever. Just trying to help,” he grins.

  That grin. Shit, I need to wipe that grin off of his beautiful-as-sin face. I slip my sandal back on and slowly get up out of my seat, never breaking eye contact with him. Leaning down, letting my lips just graze his ear, I whisper to him, to try and gain the upper hand. I need to get out of here, away from this table and this amazing foot rub.

  “I’m sure you are just a fantastic help, Frank,” I stress his name, trying not to laugh at its ridiculousness. I reach down and graze him, feeling him harden under my fingertips, and nip his earlobe. He sucks in a breath, but before his hand comes to grab my arm, I straighten, shaking my head at him, grinning that I’m back on top.

  For now.

  “Ladies room, excuse me,” I smile and bite my lip as I walk away.

  Shaking. I’m fucking shaking. How can this man do this to me? I’m a bold woman, I know what I want, and normally I go after it. Tonight, though... Tonight, I’m not certain about my boldness. The man from tonight isn’t like any I’ve met before. Sure, he’s beautiful, relentless, sexy fucking voice... but there’s something more about him. The look in his eyes tonight rattles me. There’s such a connection.

  I find the ladies room and there’s a line about ten people long. I growl, angry that I downed so much water tonight. I don’t drink. Haven’t for almost ten years now, but that doesn’t mean that I like to wait in line at a club for hours on end.

  From the urge to have to pee so fucking bad, to the urge to go back to the table and jump the man waiting for me, I’m all kinds of messed up tonight. I growl at myself for letting him get the upper hand on me, almost setting me off in my seat like that, so unexpectedly. I need the control tonight. This week has been terrible, and I need to know that I still have control in some areas of my life.

  Waiting in line, two songs pass before the line moves an inch, and I’m about ready to give up and go home to pee, when I see him, from the corner of my eye, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, giving me that damned grin again. I walk over to him, ready to slap the grin off of his face. Before I’m able to complete my task, he grabs me, pulls me to him, and kisses me.

  Hard.

  Like we are the only two people in the room.

  I moan into his kiss. His smell so familiar, so comforting... so damn sexy. My hands go up and wrap around his neck, his arms wrap around my waist and his hands cup my ass. I smile into the kiss, enjoying the play of power between us.

  “I still need to pee,” I tell him when I’m able to break the kiss.

  “I see. I have a better idea, do you trust me?” His eyes holding mine.

  “Completely,” I answer truthfully, forgetting about the small fact that I just met Frank tonight.

  “You’d trust a stranger completely, R-... Lynn?” His eyes wide, his face trying not to break a smile.

  “Ah... trick questions there, Tex.” I whip back at him and raise my eyebrows, waiting for the response.

  Instead, he pulls me in, leaning in to my ear, and whispers.

  “Come with me,” he says, his breath warm on my ear, bringing back all of the feelings I tried to leave at the table.

  Goose bumps rise on my skin. Heat starts to grow again between my legs, making me completely ready for whatever he has in store for me. The anticipation is almost better than the game. Almost.

  He takes my hand and starts walking through the crowd, looking back every now and then to make sure I’m still keeping up well enough. Each time he does, I see more lust and attraction in his eyes. I see him ready to take me, and I’m ready for it. I’m ready for him.

  We walk past a bouncer, the two men nod at each other as we pass, and he gives me a small smile as Frank starts walking up the dark flight of stairs. The music is dying down the further up the steps we walk, and the lights aren’t as ‘club-ish’ anymore.

  They’re dim. Red.

  What the hell?

  “Where are we going,” I ask as I get closer to him, afraid we aren’t supposed to be up here.

  “You’ll see,” He growls as he continues down a hallway, glancing at the door numbers as we start to slow.

  He stops in front of a black door with a red ‘X’ on it, and I smile, remembering the name of the club.

  Club X.

  This club was brought to my attention a few week ago for the rumors running around that it’s a sex club, or something like that.

  This must be the part of the club the rumors are made from.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Let’s do this,” I smile, and raise my eyebrows, feeling incredibly sexy in the dark red lighting from the hallway.

  The door opens with a scan of Frank’s hand and I cock my head at him.

  “Fancy shit right there,” he smiles, and guides me into the dark room.

  With the snap of his fingers, the lights go from black to dim, illuminating the room’s features beautifully. The black and red walls are adorned with the most beautiful sexual photographs I’ve ever seen, and just looking at them is turning me on. Close-ups of body parts, backs arched in ecstasy, eyes shut tight from pleasure. They’re stunning. The massive king bed stands in the middle of the room with all four posts stretching tall to the ceiling. There’s a black sheer canopy over the bed, and the tails of it travel down the lengths of the posts, just barely touching the floor.

  I walk over to it, gliding my hands across the deep red satin sheets. He’s right behind me, and his hands go to my shoulders first, massaging with the same pressure he used on my foot earlier. Jesus, he’s good at this. I sigh and roll my head to the side, wordlessly inviting him to come a little closer. He obliges, and soon his lips are on my neck, kissing and roaming, sucking and nipping. His hands move down my arms and lightly grasp my hands as his lips move to my ear.

  “You think you need control tonight. I see it in you. What you really need, though, is to lose all control. To me,” he whispers and I turn to liquid. Lust and tension run through me at his words.

  He knows exactly what I need, and he knows how to get it out of me. I was about to take him to the bathroom for a quick fuck, but this man knows better. He knows that even though I act like I really need control, what I need is for him to control me.

  “Lay down,” he demands, as he gently turns and looks at me with those beautiful eyes.

  “I still have to pee,” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Trust me. Lay down,” he slowly moves his hands up my arms.

  I oblige, slowly and seductively crawling across the massive bed to the softest pillows I’ve ever encountered. I lay back and watch him as my hands start to travel my body, un-buttoning my shorts slowly and peeking just underneath the hem of my shirt. His eyes darken at my game, and before I know it, he’s hovering over me, my hands trapped at my sides, his eyes pinning my gaze and I can’t look away.

  “That’s enough of that, babe,” he growls as he reaches to the hem of my shirt and slowly pulls it over my head, leaving just the black lace bra I wore tonight.

  I can feel his hard length pressing against me, and I grind up to meet him with the pressure I’m seeking. Growling, he leans down and kisses each nipple over the lace, quickly lifting to blow on them after wetting me with his kiss. The sensation is almost unbearable, and I grab onto his arms and arch into him, silently begging for more.

  I need more.

  He shakes his head at me, and without words, he reaches up and grabs the fabric hanging down from the canopy, tying my hands to each post.

  So that’s why they hang so low.

>   “Fuck me, that’s so fucking hot,” he growls as his fingers trace my tattoos.

  Sitting up on his knees, his hands finish un-doing my pants and he slowly pulls them off me, finding the second surprise for the evening. I grin as he takes in the freshly fully waxed area and black lace thong I bought earlier today.

  “Jesus Christ, baby,” he whispers as his fingers play along the edges of the tiny piece of fabric.

  I gasp when he suddenly moves it aside and sinks one finger inside me, then slowly retreats. He brings his finger to his mouth and licks off my juices, moaning.

  “Good God, that tastes so fucking fantastic.”

  “There’s more where that came from,” I say boldly, wiggling my hips to slowly gain a small amount of friction from him.

  He lets out a short laugh, and smiles at me. Then takes the fabric from the posts at the foot of the bed and wraps it around my ankles. Silently, his fingers trace up my legs, skirting around my thong, dipping into my belly button, slowly circling my nipples as they harden from his touch. I feel like one tiny bit of pressure is going to send me into waves of orgasms, and the more he teases me, the harder it’s going to be to hold off once he does start.

  “So responsive,” he growls, then unclips the front of my bra to free myself for him. His mouth takes my breast and I gasp from the warmth. When he nips me, I scream out in pleasure. Who would have thought the tiniest amount of pain could feel so good?

  “Fuck me, please,” I beg, unable to wait any longer. This game he’s been playing is going on way too long, and I need my release.

  “Patience. Though I do like to hear you beg.” He grins at me, then leans in to kiss me, lightly tracing my lips with his tongue until I let him in. Tasting me as his hand snakes down to my core and his fingers slip easily inside. Growling, he brings them up to my mouth.

  “Open, I want you to taste just how amazing you are,” he whispers as I open my mouth for him. Closing my eyes, I suck my juices off of his finger and moan as he slides his fingers out of my mouth.

  I open my eyes and smile at him. His eyes are hooded with lust. With need.

  “Why are you still dressed?” I whisper as our eyes stay locked.