Page 65 of My Salvation
Stepping on to the dance floor, the instructor begins with the basic front to back eight count. As I step, I exaggerate the swivel of my hips. Lowell’s eyes are drawn down just in time to see my skirt flare scandalously high to the tops of my thighs, letting him get a brief glimpse of my scarlet thong.
His eyes darken, and he smiles dangerously. “Are you ready for tonight’s lesson?”
“I’m all yours.” My intent and submission are inherent in the small statement.
On our first date, Lowell’s personality seemed to reflect the tenets of the tango. A perfect mirror. Precise and controlled. Pleasure where he placed or denied it. I wouldn’t have thought the salsa would fit his personality at all. The moves are too fluid and relaxed, based on the feeling generated by the dance. A strong outward display of emotions is something Lowell usually avoids. But the confident look in his eyes suggests I’m in for a surprise tonight.
We dance the basic steps for the first few minutes. Forward, back, side to side. Hips swiveling in tune with each other. The lesson portion ends, and as the dancing begins, he flings me out to the side. Swirling, I come back, and he bends me over his arm, bringing our hips close, rolling with me from the side, back to the front. My lower body is pressed entirely against his as I swing around, feeling the force of his desire. The fluidity and power in this first move assures me his command of the dance, and me, is absolute.
Throwing back my head, I laugh with sheer excitement before whipping up and catching one of his hands. Twirling, I step to his side and swivel before twirling back towards him to catch the other hand he is holding out. The fast pace of the music drums a sensual beat into my blood, every step designed to entice and capture Lowell. My hips roll as I move into his body, the motion a mimic of what’s coming later.
Unexpectedly, the raw passion and emotion he’s displaying are breathtaking. They pour out in a blur, resulting in moves designed to inspire lust and need. Tonight, he’s someone else, someone with the blood born to move like this, his body alive with need instead of just demanding mine.
We shift and move rapidly. Owning the dance, the floor, and each other. Our hands flying as fast as our feet, our bodies curve towards each other and flow back out. As the music nears the end, we slow, coming in tight together, every line of our bodies flush, as if we’re one body stepping forward and back instead of two. The music gets softer and softer until it ends. We stop. Still in each other’s arms, we stare at each other as we catch our breath. The sound of clapping intrudes and pops our bubble.
Wrapping my hand around his neck, I bring it down and whisper in his ear, “I need you.” Placing a soft kiss on his neck, I step back and wait.
Lowell doesn’t disappoint. A brief conversation with the waiter to put the charges on his member account, and we’re out the door and in the vehicle fifteen minutes later.
I shiver, but not from cold. Anticipation, need, and a tiny bit of nervousness rack me. Tonight, Lowell’s control is only a thin veneer instead of his usual iron mask. Suddenly he’s a tiger, released from the zoo into the wild, boredom and apathy replaced with purpose and hunger.
One minute we’re in his vehicle, and the next we’re in his room. Dropping the duffle, he backs me into the door and gives me a kiss unlike any before. Where cool and controlled existed before, raw, unhindered passion now replaces it. My desire rips out of me, and my need to be consumed by this man explodes. I kiss him back with all the feelings I have for him, and all he is. Tasting him, sucking on his tongue, I show him I want it all.
Groaning, Lowell breaks away and looks down at my face, trailing a finger over my puffy lips, down my neck to the vee in the halter, and down to the tip of the flirty skirt. His finger dips into my underwear and strokes me. Time halts as he stares at me, emotions flitting across his face, before he abruptly turns toward the room.
Confused, I watch him. He glances around the room before striding over to the chair. Picking up a chair by the couch, he carries it over to the other wall and places it sideways in front of a full-length mirror. Motioning me over to the chair, he turns my body until it’s facing the seat.
His voice is strained with need as he directs me into position. “Put your knees on the seat, and face the back of the chair.”
Turning my back to him, I follow his command.
His hands settle on my mostly bare shoulders. Long fingers caress my neck, circling it for a second, as if they’re a chain binding me to him. He’s breathing heavily, his control thin. Sliding his hands down to mine, he picks them up.
“Bend over.”
Placing them on the back of the chair, he waits until my hands settle. For a brief second, I can feel his hard cock nestled against me before he steps back.
Noticing movement to the side, I glance over to the mirror and watch as Lowell pushes my dress to my waist and folds to his knees behind me. Running his hands up the sides of my legs, he tugs off my red lace thong and places it in his pocket.
“Spread your legs wider.” His breath is a whisper against my clit as he gives me further instruction. “That’s it, my dear.” Groaning, his hands grip the back of my thighs. “The taste of you has been on my mind and my tongue for weeks. I crave you like an addict. Images of you on the island transpose into images of you on my bed, on my desk, on the hood of my SUV, floating in the pool. My tongue is always ready to lick and suck your clit. Finally, I can indulge myself again.”
Watching him in the mirror, I see his mouth dip between my legs. My body jolts as he tongues my clit, not expecting the reflection to be me. In my head, I’m watching a sexy blonde woman, in a scrap of a black dress, and a tall, devilishly dark man pleasuring her on his knees. It’s voyeuristic and captivating. The man’s head moving, his hands gripping her thighs, causing the woman to arch her back and spread her legs to allow deeper access.
My senses are overloaded with the combination of sight and touch. The two distinct but the same. Moaning, I grip the chair, and my eyes flutter shut as I try to hold on to some semblance of control.
He stops. I moan with disappointment. “Open your eyes, and watch me take you over the edge.”
Turning my head, my eyes meet his in the mirror. Satisfaction gleams as he takes in the glaze on my face before returning his focus and tongue to my clit. Stroking it quickly and firmly, I’m soon racing towards the edge.
Seeing my body flush with desire and feeling my body reach the pinnacle, I fall. My senses explode, along with my body.
“Lowell!” I cry out as fire races outwards heating my body, causing ripples of desire to permeate every inch of my skin.
My heart pounding, I stay in position as I catch my breath for the next round. While the orgasm was powerful, my greedy body wants to feel him inside me. My eyes move from our bodies to his face, which is flushed with tightly held passion. Fine tremors roll over him as he waits for me to give him the words. Need shines darkly on his face.
“Lowell, I need you inside me. I want to watch us in the mirror. I want to see and feel your long cock filling me up inch by inch. I want to see you fucking me slow, then hard and fast, burning us both up from the inside. Make me come wrapped around you.”
His eyes are transfixed by the image of me, of us, in the mirror. But his hands are busy now, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, my words a trigger. While I watch our bodies, he watches my face. Taking his cock in hand, he strokes it a few times before rolling on a condom.
