Page 34 of His to Possess
They’re dancing to a stripped down, darker version of an Adele song. A low, throbbing beat fills the room as they move on the stage. It’s immediately apparent what they’re mimicking in their movement—the man is chasing the woman. Every step she takes, he follows, his body constantly pulling her back toward him while her dancing mimics a struggle. Every time he catches her, he comes away with another strip of fabric from her leotard until eventually she’s dancing in little more material than a bikini.
As the pulse of the music swells, the man finally catches her for good, his hands caressing her body as he carries her to the center of the stage. He uses the captured scraps of fabric to bound her wrists then uses his dancing to mimic whipping her while she writhes sensually on the floor.
It’s so…deviant. There’s something about their artistic interpretation of this act that creates a delicious juxtaposition in my mind, their graceful, sensual movements in contrast with the baser reality of kinky BDSM sex. And their expressions—either these dancers are tremendous actors or they’re both completely lost in the feeling of the moment. His eyes blaze with lust while he simulates whipping her, and the woman’s expression is one of perfectly balanced pleasure and pain.
It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.
As my heart rate picks up, I can feel the heat of Philip’s gaze on my face. He seems to be watching my every reaction. The fact that he apparently finds me more interesting than the very erotic dance happening on stage brings a rush of heat between my legs.
“You like this?” he whispers, his breath hot against the skin of my neck. I nod once, too overwhelmed for words. I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel the pressure of a single fingertip dancing up my forearm. Philip’s touch is innocent, but the combination of the dark room, the sensual dance a few feet away, and the feel of his skin on mine all swirl together in my senses, making my blood catch fire.
“You’re so fucking beautiful right now,” he whispers gruffly. “You should see your face.”
I finally tear my gaze away from the dancers to look at him. His eyes are full of more heat than I’ve ever witnessed in him. I may not have been with a man before, but I’d have to be dead not to understand the desire radiating off of him.
Philip Matthews wants me.
“What do I look like?” I ask, voice trembling.
He leans in again, brushing his lips across my neck, and I experience a full body shudder. “Your cheeks are flushed,” he says. “Those gorgeous blue eyes are bright and huge in your face. Your heart is pounding so hard, isn’t it, love? Are you having trouble catching your breath?”
I practically whimper as I nod, Philip’s soft chuckle filling my ear.
“You’re turned on, Lilah,” he whispers, nipping at my ear lobe, and this time, I do whimper. It’s soft enough that I don’t think anyone at our table could hear, but the noise still brings fresh heat to my face. There’s something so deliciously naughty about feeling this way here, in this room full of people. In knowing that I’m far from the only person turned on right now.
I doubt anyone else is burning up inside the way I am, though. This fire coursing through me is all Philip.
“So gorgeous,” he mutters, sounding almost angry about it. “Seeing you like this makes me wonder what you look like when you come.”
I gasp, and this time at least one of our dining companions notices. Benson’s girlfriend turns around and shoots us a curious glance. Philip ignores her completely.
“Do you make yourself come, love?” he demands in my ear.
I nod again, unable to deny him anything. He gives a soft, rumbling groan of satisfaction.
“Only on your own?” he presses. “Has a man ever done that to you?”
I shake my head, heart pounding so hard I’m starting to feel faint.
“No?” he sounds exceedingly pleased to hear it. “No man has touched your sweet little pussy?”
“You know they haven’t,” I breathe out.
“Mmm,” he whispers, nipping my earlobe again. “I know you haven’t been fucked, but there are lots of ways to make a woman come.”
This isn’t news to me. I have had boyfriends and I’ve done my fair share of making out. I’ve had guys pawing at me before, trying to convince me to give them more. There’s just never been anyone I’ve wanted to take that step with.
Until right now.
“I wish you would show me,” I say without thinking, and Philip goes completely still beside me.
“Yeah?” he finally asks, voice ragged. “You want my hands on you, love? My mouth?”
“God, yes.”
Up on stage, the dancers appear to be nearing the climax of the song. The man has tossed aside his imaginary whip and has fallen on the woman. They move together in perfect tandem, writhing on the floor, their actions now clearly meant to simulate sex. The room is completely captivated by them but my entire world begins and ends in the sliver of space between me and Philip Matthews.
“I want that too,” he growls as the couple on stage let out low moans of desire, loud enough to soar over the crescendo of the music. “Fuck, Lilah, you have no idea how much.”
