Dance Of Desire Read online

  “Not yet. I’ll tell you later,” he finally answered.

  Damn, he moved well like—really well. He was so mesmerizing that others stood, lurking about to watch him twirl her, move her, hold her against himself. He watched her and she liked him watching her. She’d giggled and squirmed a little at first, every time he brought her close to his body.

  He’d pull a little half smile at her reaction. So sexy.

  “You have to get used to me holding you, Beautiful. I like the way you move, the way you feel against me.”

  “Y-You do?” she stammered. Uncool, Cassie. “All these dancers, you can do better than me.”

  His reaction was a quick, deep frown. “No, I can’t. You’re right I shouldn’t be with you. You’re far above me, Beautiful. But I can’t resist you.”

  What the flying fuck. Could he really be that into me? Probably a very effective line… very effective. She mentally tried to back pedal her emotions away from him. It wasn’t working.

  The man passed his hand over empty air at the edge of the bar and materialized a drink.

  Wow! What a great trick! How’d he do that? He’s like a magician. Cassie clapped at his magic. He took a sip then handed it to her. She gulped it down thirstily, and she wanted to get back to dancing with him, fast.

  She made a face. “Odd. Tastes sweet and something… funny.” She actually belched! Not a demure little burp but a full-on belch. Cassie was horrified! But he didn’t seem to notice or care.

  “A special recipe from my exotic homeland—Cleveland, Ohio,” he said with mock importance.

  That made her laugh out loud. Okay, she was officially drunk. But she sobered when he stared at her with a look of awe, so full of yearning. “You’re so beautiful. You shine with light. Go away with me?”

  His request was so abrupt and seemingly real that part of her screamed, Yeah! Another part, the part that was still her mother’s child, said, Whoa, girl! Speechless, Cassie involuntarily shook her pretty head. Okay, she wasn’t feeling so much the sophisticated city girl just now. She felt confused ad immature.

  He laughed sexily before shrugging with a shyness that seemed in direct contrast to his self-assured look. He whirled her out to dance again. She was a bit dizzy. No, she felt more like she was a top spinning and enjoying the spin as she clung to his hard arms.

  “Man, you smell fantastic,” she blurted.

  “What?”

  She shook her head, thinking it was embarrassing to repeat her impulsive comment. He did though. He smelled like no man she’d ever smelled before, like exotic spices and intoxicants. Like wrapped in sweet things, coconut and flavored with sexy, irresistible MALE scent. She was done giggling like a schoolgirl since they were now rubbing against each other with serious intent, hard enough to generate flames that could set the club and the world afire.

  She didn’t know where she got that thought. Hot. Fire. Both of them were inflamed…

  She didn’t know where her friends were. She wasn’t even thinking of them. Cassie wanted this nameless man inside her.

  She felt him, felt his lengthening cock against her. She closed her eyes. It felt like he was already inside her, plumbing her deepest secrets. Flames, yeah. Pure, blue fire. It was already there, licking around inside her, making her moisten in welcome. Heat curled inside her, like fingers beckoning from his sex to hers, making her ache for him as she felt the manly part of him grow harder, wanting her.

  Cassie’s answer came as she rubbed herself against his hardness, which was something she’d never done in public or in private before, and she didn’t even notice. She burned for him. She felt bright and radiant as the sun for him, even if she was also feeling very wild and wanton. Like an animal in heat.

  Gazing into his face, she didn’t find any expression that said he’d expected this kind of behavior from her. Or that he was disgusted by it.

  His expression said he was surprised that she was so pleased to be with him and so open to showing him her pleasure.

  Or maybe I’m more than a bit drunk and reading too much into this? But it felt good… to feel like this. So free. Like this…

  Cassie was completely lost in her erotic shamelessness, breathing deeply—panting really—like she was ready for penetration.

  “Beautiful, you’re ready.”

  For what? The thought chugged slowly through her hormone-flooded mind.

  He seized her tightly to him, making her open her eyes, half-lidded like a sleepwalker. She was burning up, his body hot and hard against hers, her crotch wet and humid and hungry, as she clawed at his muscular back to hold him closer to her. She felt his hand kneading her ass cheek while she rubbed her aching body against his, and in her head…

  The world shifted. A hazy distortion.

  A bird flew past her view! It was close enough to make her flinch.

  A dove. A white dove. What the hell…?

  “Did you see that? A dove! In here.”

  Annoyance flitted across his expression and he glanced across the floor, but she didn’t see who he saw. The annoyance left his face before he looked at her again. “No, Beautiful. I only see you. I only want you. Say ‘yes’ to me. Now.”

  Cassie was panting hard and was horny as hell but...“Really? No white dove? You didn’t see that? Wow, man. You’re really getting to me. I’m so… overheated.” She wiggled against him, but stopped. It felt too damn good. “I-I need to sit down.”

  She pushed away from his hot, firm grasp. And it was hard, like he was a huge magnet and she a tiny iron shaving trying to peel away from him. Even his fingertips felt to her like they didn’t want her to go.

  His expression was one that simply seemed to state that he couldn’t believe she could leave him.

  Chapter Three

  BUT CASSIE WAS ABLE to stumble away from him and through the thick crowd back to her girlfriends. She was subjected to a lot of teasing from her drunken friends, especially from Anne and Lauren.

  “Ah, our sex kitten has returned from the arms of that glorious, godly Dionysus. Or is he more of a down and dirty sex fiend? We need details, Cassie!” Lauren crowed. “Lots and lots of details. What’s he taste like? Have you slipped him the tongue? Does he love it three-way? How fucking huge is his fucking tool?”

  And Lauren made a “this big” fishing reference the full length of her reach, from left to right. And they all laughed at her crudeness.

  Krystal rolled her eyes, a bit pink in the face with embarrassment and too many fruity drinks laced with rum. Then she giggled hysterically a long while before quieting and sitting overly straight and dignified, as if she weren’t at all sloshed.

  “Ha-ha, girlfriends,” Cassie retorted. Then, she welcomed further teasing with her own drunken announcement. “There’s only one way I’m ending tonight. With that man.”

  She gazed with longing at her masculine dance partner who was waiting for her. He was really waiting for her where she’s left him. The odd thing was… it seemed like he was surrounded by a force field as he stood isolated by himself. Others reached out to him, but his eyes—those eyes—were only for her.

  I must be really drunk, she thought in exuberant intoxication, closing one eye then the other, to just look at him and that field. He can’t really be naked there, having more than two hands and… two cocks?

  She giggled at herself and her hallucinations. But as he came to her, to claim her, she stared at his crotch. It moved like there was a thick, long cock growing down both his left thigh and his right.

  Someone laughed and bumped into her, and all of Cassie’s friends and her entire new world became a noisy, slurring blur….

  * * *

  CASSIE WAS DREAMING. She was in the club with a gorgeous hunk who was leading her away from her friends. The noise in the club died down as a tall, androgynous person with a white dove tattoo high on his neck bumped shoulders with her gorgeous dark hunk while they passed each other.

  She heard them both acknowledge each other with stiff civility
.

  “Paulo,” the androgynous one said.

  “Gabriel,” her hunk said in return.

  * * *

  CASSIE SLID SLOWLY back into consciousness late the following morning, curled up in a fiercely tight ball, like a frightened hedgehog protecting itself from a slobbering and laughing wild jackal.

  “What...?” Who’s laughing?

  Only part of her brain functioned. It was Sunday. She no longer did church on a weekly basis and there was no need to hurry or agonize about classes. She cracked a red, achy eye open at the clock. But it wasn’t there. Or, more specifically, she was not laid on the bed properly. She tilted her head.

  “Oh. Eleven.” In the morning. The sunshine bleeding around her window curtains told her.

  Hung over, flaming thirsty and hungry, too, she uncurled and felt fuzzy, like she’d forgotten something. Normal sensations had yet to return to her limbs, her body in general, and her head.

  “Oww.” Her insides hurt. Down there, as her grandma would’ve said. Didn’t she just have her period a little while ago? She couldn’t remember just yet.

  Cassie lurched fully upright with a groan and sat on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, before creaking to a bent stance, like a super-elderly old woman, to stumble her way to the bathroom.

  “Fucking hell…!”

  She abruptly realized the state she was in.

  She wasn't wearing her blouse from last night. One of the solid straps of her bra was ripped completely loose. The bra itself was pulled down exposing her breasts. Her skirt was made of sturdy twill. It was slightly torn in the middle but still on, folded or yanked up—Why would I think ‘yanked up’?—and caught high inside the waistband.

  She looked around frantically. Her panties were nowhere to be found! The waistband was on the floor and completely destroyed, like someone had ripped them open and torn them from the delicate missing fabric. The apartment air conditioner was on, breezing through her soft and trimmed pubic hair.

  She was sore as hell almost everywhere. Even the lips of her vulva hurt. And they were slick, wet. Her thighs, too—slick with wetness and were sore.

  Like I’ve been fucking all night.

  Then, she… she couldn’t recall…!

  H-How’d I get home? I went out with the girls. We partied at that cool club and… and….

  She felt fear growing inside her and she wanted to panic. Cassie tugged down her skirt and rearranged her breasts in order to cover herself even though she was completely alone. The bra was so messed up that she threw on a sweatshirt. Halfway clothed again, she still wanted to panic. But she took deep, slow breaths and tried to be logical.

  She tried to figure out how she’d gotten from way across town all the way back to her apartment without remembering it. She tried hard, but only remembered sitting back down at the table with her drunken, happy girlfriends after dancing with that gorgeous, hot guy she’d been flirting with.

  No…! That’s just not it.

  He’d come back for her and she’d stood, his strong arm looping around her, his touch sending electrical shocks of joy, lust and amazement.

  And then… and then… Cassie didn’t remember past that moment! A silent, primal shudder coursed through her spine like cold fingers tipped with long, pointed nails.

  No, it can’t be.

  She realized she really had to piss so she finally made her way into the bathroom to sit down, slowly, and pee. Slowly. Because it hurt like hell.

  Her breasts hurt, too. The nipples were painfully sensitive and felt abused.

  She gingerly tugged the sweatshirt up and off, then gazed at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Her breasts looked tortured, reddened and bruised in the bright bathroom light. She gazed downward at her crotch. Her thighs looked red on some spots, too. She was tender all over.

  She began trembling. Cassie tried not to sob but she sniffled anyway and wracked her brain to remember.

  What could have happened last night to leave her in this wretched condition? But she had no more good fortune with her memory than before.

  She did remember the man, her man, nameless, exotic, and dangerous but not a rapist. Not a maniac.

  But how could she be sure? Would she know what a rapist looked like in real life? Looking in the mirror at her appearance again, she looked like a doll three hysterical toddlers had fought over.

  She washed her face and fought for calmness.

  Who to call? Who… Lauren! She rushed outside and grabbed the phone. She called Lauren.

  “Wh-What? Wh-Who’s this? Oh, Cassie.” Lauren half-muted the phone to talk with her roommate. “No, Anne. It’s Cassie. Don’t talk so damn loud, woman. You’re up already, C? It’s only noon-ish. Ah, not even.”

  Since Lauren was still in bed, Cassie kept her questions straightforward.

  Laurie’s answers were fairly clear in return. “No, C, you didn’t leave with him. That gorgeous creature did catch you when you passed out, though. He carried you out for us, and held you until we got a cab. Hey, Anne, wasn’t that cabby the most asexual person you’ve ever seen? He’s male but he’s just so gorgeous and lovely. Oh, don’t tell me to shut—Ow! My head—up.”

  She listened for a while until Lauren could talk clearly again.

  “All us girls brought you home, C. Just us. Not him. Left him standing all sad-eyed and gorgeous on the curb. We drove off and he disappeared back into the club, I guess. You, well, we, well, you was, um, were too drunk to go with him and you were awake. Kinda. But kept mumbling gibberish.”

  “Like what? What was I saying?” she asked.

  “Something about, maybe, ‘Come with ushshsh.’? Or that’s the way you said it. So whatever you were thinking ’bout or dreaming, your secret’s safe. He didn’t come with us. Ah, just thinking about that hottie… all pure man, that one, and the possibilities of his cock makes me wet.”

  “And me?”

  “Least you were kind of walking, stumbling when we got back. You’re heavier than you look, d’you know that? We just dropped you on your bed and locked the door on our way out. Then we went home ourselves.”

  “Why’d you trash my clothes? And where was my underwear! And why am I sore all over?”

  These questions were followed by a long pause on the other end of the line. A snort came through, as if Lauren had dozed off in mid-consideration.

  “Go back to bed, Cassie. You’re still talking gibberish and my damn head hurts. My brain hurts. I have no idea where my panties are, honestly, let alone yours. See you in class tomorrow. Bye.”

  The line went dead before she could say anything in return.

  Terribly confused and scared, Cassie checked the door and found it still locked like Lauren said. Her keys were inside with her. She calmed down a bit.

  Okay, that was logical and matched what Lauren had said.

  She must’ve missed something, some small clue. So she examined her clothes and her body in the mirror again, and stretched her body to find all marks that she could. There were bruises. If she hadn’t been… she couldn’t even say it. What really happened to her? Why was she bruised all over? Were they all so drunk that they might have dragged her from the cab towards the elevator and possibly banged her up like these? Or maybe the elevator wasn’t working and they dragged her up the stairs?

  It did not explain her womanhood hurting.

  She took a deep breath. “Ahhh! Cassie Shea Watsen, you cannot hold your liquor.” She pointed to herself in the mirror. “I do not know you, girl.”

  She blinked sleepily. Maybe she was mistaken? Maybe something could explain this, but she just couldn’t get it right now. No, she wasn’t… no of course not. She blinked again, and looked back at the mirror.

  “Ahhhhh!” she screamed.

  Her mirror was gone. Her reflection was gone.

  Instead, the mirror frame gaped like a doorway into a dark, putrid smelling cave. The doorway’s framing breathed as if about to bow out and explode o
pen.

  Then her glimpse into Hell was gone.

  The mirror was back with her own frightened, wide-eyed image. But her heart raced like hell.

  Chapter Four

  SHE FROZE like an animal too frightened to run but panting like she had been running for a long time. Finally, she shook her head and decided she was still feeling the after-effects of her drunken stupor.

  What could’ve been in that ‘Cleveland’ drink? she thought a bit. You did mix drinks, Stupid Girl. What you were drinking, tasting everyone else’s drinks, and whatever his ‘magic’ drink was.

  What if she had caused her bewildering state of undress? What if she had been so drunk and so horny that she ripped her clothes up and did everything else? She had never… but what other explanation could there be? She certainly remembered how she pined for her dace partner. She certainly remembered feeling lust so strong she would have let him fuck her if there had been a chance for them to find a place somewhere where they could be alone.

  Later, she washed down a few analgesic pills with a lot of water. She was really thirsty. Then she peeled off what was left of her clothes, dumped them into the dirty laundry, and took a long, hot shower to get cleaned. She followed it up by a long hot soak in the tub to reach those parts of her too sore and unreachable by the shower.

  The comforting heat of the water washed away her fears. Dry, relaxed and bundled in her thick, fluffy robe, she prepared a light meal and watched TV with the sound down low as she ate. It was something to take her mind off the throbbing headache brought about by her hangover. The pain pills, water and food weren’t helping dim the rhythmic pain as much as they advertised.

  Without noticing though, she got back to being impatient and dissatisfied, half forgetting her meal as she flicked through channels, never staying on one for more than a couple of minutes.

  She finally finished her meal without tasting it because her mind kept wandering to her friends, to the club last night, and to the gorgeous man rubbing his hard, hot body against hers.