Page 69 of Twisted Fate
I’m fairly sure there will be pictures of us splashed on social media tomorrow. Normally, it would bother me, but tonight it doesn’t. I have the urge to show Sophia off, to proclaim to the world that she’s mine. That at the end of the night, it’s my cock that will be buried inside of her, that she’ll beg for, scream for. That it’s my name she’ll moan when she comes.
She’smine.My wife. My Sophia.
The nightclub pulses with energy, a living, breathing entity at the heart of downtown Miami. The sleek, industrial space is transformed by strategic lighting—deep blues and purples washing over the crowd, flashes of bright white punctuating the darkness. The bass is so heavy I can feel it in my chest, a second heartbeat pushing against my ribs.
I guide Sophia through the packed room with a hand at the small of her back, my fingers brushing the leather waistband of her skirt. Heads turn as we pass—men and women alike drawn to her like moths to flame. I feel that flash of possessive pride again, knowing she's mine.
The club manager spots us immediately, rushing over with a look of nervous deference on his face. I know why—I don’t usually come in without calling, although I’ve stopped by now and again as a surprise to make sure that all’s running as it should be. Tonight isn’t one of those nights, though—I’m not here to inspect the place, just to show it off to Sophia.
"Mr. Abramov," he says, leaning in to be heard over the music. "We weren't expecting you tonight. Your private section is being prepared as we speak."
I nod, pleased with how quickly he’s adapted to my arrival. "Make sure we're not disturbed."
"Of course, sir." He gestures toward the staircase that leads up to my personal roped-off VIP area overlooking the dance floor, separate from the other VIP areas for guests. "Right this way."
I glance at Sophia, expecting her to follow, but she surprises me, leaning in close to my ear. Her breath is warm against my skin as she speaks.
"Can we dance first?" she asks, her eyes bright with excitement. She glances around, and I can feel the buzz coming off her skin. It’s infectious; electric. "I want to feel the music."
I hesitate. The VIP section is safer, more controlled. Out on the dance floor, we'd be exposed, surrounded by strangers. But the look in her eyes—that pure, uncomplicated desire for pleasure—is impossible to resist.
She’simpossible for me to resist. For better or for worse, I’m realizing this woman has me in her grasp.
And the worst part is that I’m not upset about it. Uneasy, yes. Unsure of how to handle the way she makes me feel. But angry?
Not in the slightest.
"All right," I concede, dismissing the manager with a nod. "But stay close to me."
Her smile is radiant as she takes my hand, leading me toward the center of the dance floor. The crowd parts for us—whether they recognize me or simply sense that I’m something dangerous, I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. We find space in the heart of the writhing mass of bodies, and Sophia turns to face me.
She begins to move with the music, her body swaying in perfect rhythm. Her hands slide up her sides, lifting her hair off her neck for a moment before letting it fall back down in a cascade of dark waves. The sight of her like this—uninhibited, sensual, completely absorbed in the moment—sends heat coursing through my veins.
I move closer to her, letting her feel my heat, crowding her in as I place my hands on her hips, feeling the way they move beneath my palms. She smiles up at me, a wicked curve of her lips that tells me she knows exactly what she's doing to me. She turns, pressing her back against my chest, her ass grinding against me with the beat.
My hand slides from her hip to her stomach, splaying wide across the flat plane of it, holding her against me as we move together. The press of bodies around us provides a strange kind of privacy—everyone too lost in their own world to pay attentionto us. I can feel my cock thickening against her, the friction of her full, round ass rubbing against me and the sway of her body quickly driving me back to a full erection, as hard as I was before with the taste of her on my tongue. My cock aches, but it’s a blissful kind of torture, and one that I’m not ready to relieve just yet.
I could take her up to my VIP section, sit her in my lap, and fuck her there, overlooking all these people. But I have a different idea.
I lower my head, my lips brushing against her ear. "You're driving me crazy," I murmur, my voice rough with desire.
She turns her head slightly, just enough that I can see the wicked smile on her lips. "Good." She punctuates it by grinding her ass back against me again, rubbing against my clothed erection as she sways and bounces to the music.
My hand drifts back to her hip, sliding down the sleek leather glued to her thigh, around to the back of her knee and up to the hem of her skirt. I don’t bother waiting for her reaction as I slide the hem of the back of her skirt up, finding my way beneath it as I glide my fingers up to the curve of her bare ass.
I lean in as I slide my hand higher, my voice a growl in her ear as my lips graze the shell of it. “My pussy,” I murmur, my fingers slipping between her thighs. “Mine whenever I please. Right here, if I want it.”
She gasps as my fingers slip between her folds, pushing into her from behind. I feel her clench around me instantly, her pussy still wet for me, and I groan as I curl my fingers, pumping them into her as she grinds against me to the music.
The heat between her thighs is scorching. I barely hear her moan over the pounding music, but I feel it in the way her body tenses against mine.
“I’m going to make you come, Sophia,” I murmur in her ear, slipping a third finger inside of her. “Right in this crowd ofpeople. You’re going to come all over my fingers here, where any of them could see.”
Her head falls back against my shoulder, eyes lidded heavily, her breath coming harder as I thrust my fingers in and out of her shallowly, feeling her body clench around my hand as we move to the music. All around us, the crowd of people shifts and flows like water, the heat and sweat of them melting the air into something thick and humid and sensual, and I move my hand, shifting it so that my middle two fingers are pushed into the wet, tight depths of her pussy as my index finger rubs over her swollen clit.
God, I want to fuck her right here. I want to bend her over and thrust into her in the midst of this writhing crowd of people, give them a show they’d never forget. But there’s something equally as good about this, fingering my wife to an orgasm in the middle of them while none of them know what’s happening.
“So eager for me,” I growl, rubbing my finger back and forth firmly over her throbbing clit. "What would all these people think if they knew what I was doing to you right now?"
