Page 6 of Degrees of Control

The dance floor was hot, crowded and vibrating with a bassline so thick you could taste it. Here, enough tequila had been absorbed so that the polite veneer of the party had pulled back to reveal something primal. Businesswomen, teachers, bankers and college students were rubbing and grinding against each other, sharing sweat and saliva like animals. James cut through the dance floor, his big shoulders forcing people back in a way Charlie could only dream of. She moved in his wake, trying not to spike partygoers with her heels. In a place like this, desire was as overt as the thudding music. It was making filthy possibilities fire in her brain like sparklers on a birthday cake. James turned suddenly and pulled her close. Just like that, they were dancing face-to-face. He moved with a fluid, masculine confidence that spoke volumes about his body’s other capabilities. Ignoring the buzzing of her erogenous zones, Charlie closed her eyes and focused on the beat, letting it flow through her until her body relaxed. Right now, all that mattered was the music, her body and his. He was so close she could feel his body heat radiating out at her. His scent was twice as intoxicating in the darkness, cologne and whiskey, sweat and man. Charlie wanted to lick it from his skin.

This is what he smells like when he fucks.

Her body arched toward his as though drawn by magnetic attraction, but the too-respectful distance between them didn’t close. Confused, she tried again, but nothing. No matter how much she exaggerated her movements she couldn’t get anywhere near James. She had the distinct feeling he was archingawayfrom her. Song after song pounded past and then she grew sure of it. Their hands touched, her dress snagged on the button of his jeans but there was no bodily contact at all. She could have glanced up at him, read his expression, but something kept her gaze low.

Did he not find her attractive? If so, why did he keep dancing with her, pushing other people aside if they ventured into their shared space?

Unable to touch, unable to walk away, Charlie kept dancing. She danced until her dress clung to her body like water, and the tingle between her legs became an ache. The absence of pressure was infuriating. He was cock-blocking her. Sure, the cock he was blocking her from was his own, but what the hell? James Hunter was supposed to seduce her, use her and let her use him in return. Instead, the guy Sophia had straight-up called a whore was playing hard to get.

Unsure of what to do and tired of thinking, Charlie gave herself over to the music, tangling her hands through her hair and sweeping them down her body. Walled in by people intent on their own pleasure, she danced with her eyes closed until she forgot her own frustration, until there was nothing but music and lust and him. The very tips of her breasts swept across hot cotton and she gasped, the brief friction enough to send a shockwave of pleasure through her skin. Blindly, she arched toward him, wanting to feel it again, but James moved away once more.

Bastard!

Charlie’s face burned. She was doneliterallythrowing herself at him. She half-turned, determined to flee, when a broad fingertip placed itself under her chin. Her eyes flew open, convinced someone else was touching her. Under the strobe lights, James’ face held no trace of all-American appeal. Shadows exaggerated his sharp cheekbones and he wore no trace of a smile, arrogant or otherwise. He looked dangerous and powerful and as immense as a brick wall. He stared down at her, his eyes flashing green and red, black and blue under the strobe lights. It felt like he was hypnotizing her. He bent forward and the brush of his stubble against her cheek sent a thousand invisible hands stroking down her skin. “I know what you want, darlin’. You go on and ask me nicely and you might just get it.”

Lust and confusion spiked through Charlie’s bloodstream like amphetamines.He knows. How does he know? Did Sophia tell him? Did Gloria paint “submissive” on my head in invisible ink?

She suddenly understood why she’d been unable to meet his gaze before. Eye contact made her achingly susceptible to the dominance he exuded like oxygen. Even now, it felt like his gaze was boring into her.

I can’t go through with this. I’m not ready to put a face on my faceless fantasy man.

So why was her breathing so shallow? Why was her heart racing and her blood water-thin? Charlie felt her lips part, her body begging for what her idiotic pride wouldn’t let her pursue. This was what Sophia meant about bravery. Exposing herself like this was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Charlie looked straight into James’ eyes. “Touch me. Please.”

In an instant he closed the space between them. A rough hand sliding down her back, the other settling firmly on her waist. Their pelvises locked together and the evidence of James’ arousal pressing hard against her abdomen made her gasp. His t-shirt was paper-thin and Charlie could feel every inch of him beneath it, warm skin stretched over hard slabs of muscle and bone. After an hour of torment, the hard planes of his body felt like heaven.

“Good girl,” James muttered into her ear, then he took the lobe between his teeth and bit down, making her shiver. “You’re a very good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Charlie breathed.

“That’s what I like to hear, honey. Now, be patient and take what I’m gonna give you.”

He slid a thick denim-clad thigh between her legs, and Charlie moaned aloud.

“You like that, huh?”

He rubbed his thigh against her with quick, controlled movements. It would have looked like dancing to any casual observer, but it was chaos to her hot, overstimulated flesh. Within seconds Charlie was writhing against him, torturing herself with friction. She could feel herself drenching her panties, her body preparing itself for the penetration that was meant to accompany such feelings. James’ hands clenched her hips, the span so wide he was touching almost all of her panties through her dress. He rocked her gently, pressing her down against his leg with firm, insistent strokes. Charlie whimpered, the noise lost in all the bass.

“That’s it, girl, get ready for me.” He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her ear again. “You like it now, wait till I’m inside you, makin’ you rub up on me like this.”

With dim horror Charlie realized something very bad was happening. If James kept growling orders and manipulating her body this way, she was going to come against his leg. Fully clothed. In public. She was kinky, but she wasn’t that damn kinky. She needed to do something and soon.

Pressing every available inch of her body back into his, she stood on her tiptoes. She wasn’t tall enough to reach his ear, but James bent down, scraping his denim-clad thigh between her legs as he did.

“I’m going to get some water,” Charlie whispered. “Would you like to come?”

James stared down at her with stern eyes, sizing her up. If she didn’t have his cock pressed against her hip, she’d have guessed that he was pissed. She braced herself for a ‘no’ and then, without moving his gaze from hers for a second, he nodded once, reminding her irresistibly of the Lone Ranger.

Scared to wait a moment longer, Charlie tore her hips from his, the absence a physical ache between her legs. With no chance of parting the sea of people like James, she slipped between couples, ducking and weaving her way off the dance floor. Her instincts told her James followed, but like Orpheus in the Greek myth, she needed to look back and make sure. Sure enough, he strode two paces behind, his face set in a way that made her want to walk faster.

She reached the edge of the dance floor and moved down the darkened hallway. She let her hands trail across the walls until she found the guest bathroom and quietly slipped inside. All she could hear was the ringing in her ears and her own shallow breathing. After the thumping of the dance floor, the near-silence was almost unbearable.

A large silhouette appeared in the doorway, and before she had the chance to react, she was hoisted onto the cool bathroom counter. She could just make out James pulling his T-shirt over his head, and cursed her eyes for not adjusting to the darkness sooner. James blew out a harsh breath, as though considering where to begin, and the spark she felt on the dance floor reignited, bright as a flame.

Ravage me, Charlie thought. Punish me for teasing you. Make me yours.

James drew her dress up over her legs, callused fingertips catching on the silk as he tucked the material around her hips. She expected him to wedge himself between her thighs, but instead he began tracing slow, lazy circles into her skin. It felt like a frisk, a slow inspection of property, meant to assess rather than arouse.

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