The DJ murmurs something teasing in Spanish, smug laughter echoing softly as the crowd whistles, playful but knowing. Reina murmurs beside me, anticipation dripping from her words, “Dios mío. Kizomba.”
The rhythm changes, slowing dramatically, deepening into something dark and sensual. The beat pulses thickly, primal and provocative, curling around me, stealing my breath.
My stomach flips, heat spiking sharply, because this…this isn’t innocent anymore.
Kizomba isn’t dancing; it’s foreplay, set to music. It’s hips grinding, skin brushing, breath mingling. It’s a conversation in raw, aching desire, whispered slowly between two bodies who know exactly how they want to end the night.
And Kane?
He knows exactly what he means.
His eyes flare dangerously, shadows spilling across his face as he moves in, not bothering with words or permission. He invades my space effortlessly, one strong hand settling at thesmall of my back, pulling me against him until I feel every hard, solid line of his body pressed flush to mine. His other hand takes mine, guiding it slowly up until my palm rests firmly over his pounding heart.
Our breaths mingle, lips close enough to taste. His thigh slides unapologetically between mine, hips pressing close, bodies perfectly aligned, leaving no doubt about exactly what he’s thinking. My breath shakes, the heat between us igniting like gasoline catching flame, his lips ghosting along my ear, breath hot against my skin as he speaks, voice low, dark, filthy.
“Camille,” he murmurs roughly, voice dripping dark promise, the command unmistakable. “Move like we’re fucking.”
A fierce shiver rips through me, my body instantly responding, thighs parting just enough for his leg to press harder between mine. My hips roll slowly, sensually against him, grinding deliberately into the hard, rigid heat I can feel through his pants, moving exactly the way I would if we were alone, if we were skin on skin, no barriers, nothing but his body driving into mine.
“Good girl,” Kane growls, voice raw and filthy, mouth grazing hot and possessive down my throat. “Nice and slow, Muñequita…just like that.”
His tongue sweeps over my pulse, teeth scraping lightly, leaving behind a sharp sting that melts instantly into aching, wet heat. His hips move with slow, relentless precision, guiding mine, each grind deepening the maddening friction until pleasure coils unbearably tight inside me.
My breath fractures, uneven and trembling, each exhale a silent plea. His fingers dig into my waist, firm enough to bruise, pulling me impossibly closer, hips rocking harder, the fabric of our clothes suddenly too thin, too restrictive. I gasp softly, nails gripping his shirt as the aching need between my thighs sharpens into desperation.
“Kane…” I moan softly, his name a broken, needy sound.
His grip tightens, hips thrusting slowly, deliberately, exactly the way I crave, driving me closer to that forbidden edge. His mouth moves lower, pressing against the hollow beneath my ear, his voice a dark rasp, dripping possessiveness and desire.
“You feel how fucking hard you’ve made me, Camille?” he murmurs, voice raw, rough. “If we were alone right now, I’d already be buried inside you, making you scream so fucking loud everyone here would know exactly who you belong to.”
I whimper softly, shamelessly, hips grinding harder into him, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more Kane. He groans quietly, a low, primal sound, his cock throbbing thickly against me through his pants, hard and unyielding.
“Keep moving, Muñequita,” he commands darkly, breath hot against my skin. “Show me exactly how much you want it.”
His mouth trails hotly along my jaw, lips brushing my ear, voice a smoky whisper that owns every nerve ending in my body. “Nice and slow, Camille. Just like that. Let them all see how fucking perfect you are when you move for me.”
My breath shatters, the heat of his words branding me deep beneath the skin, setting every hidden, aching desire on fire. I roll my hips obediently, pressing tight against him, matching each thrust, each possessive slide of his thigh between mine. Our bodies fuse together, seamless, one heartbeat pulsing through tangled limbs.
He controls the rhythm, his breathing rough but controlled, voice low and filthy as he murmurs directly into my ear, “Slow…slower, Muñequita. Fuck, yes…just like that. Imagine it’s my cock buried inside you, fucking you deep, filling you until you can’t even breathe without feeling me.”
I moan quietly, clutching at his shirt, nails digging into his chest as pleasure coils sharply, dangerously tight. His hands shift, one sliding boldly downward, cupping me firmly, the thinfabric of my dress the only barrier from his touch. He presses me hard against him, letting me feel exactly how much he wants me.
The crowd around us fades.
Disappears.
It’s just him.
And me.
And that dark, decadent beat pulsing through our bodies like a heartbeat.
I close my eyes, inhale deeply, press my face into the crook of his neck.
He smells like danger and home and heat.
“Kane…” I whisper into his skin. “I need you…”
