Electric Stranger
707 Words
Rosette's POV
I didn’t hesitate.
Something about this man made every rational thought in my head dissolve into static. My body moved before my mind could catch up, following him through the glittering crowd on the rooftop. The bass of the music pulsed through my veins like a second heartbeat as his large hand settled possessively on my lower back. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my black dress, branding me.
He guided me with effortless confidence, like he owned the entire place. Maybe he did. People parted for him without him saying a word. We reached a private VIP booth tucked away in a shadowed corner, draped in heavy velvet curtains that muffled the outside noise the moment they fell closed behind us.
He motioned for me to sit first. I slid onto the plush leather seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how short my dress was riding up my thighs. He settled beside me—close, too close, his powerful thigh brushing against mine.
A server appeared instantly. Without asking what I wanted, the stranger ordered a bottle of what I was certain would be their most expensive vodka and two crystal glasses. His voice was low, commanding, and smooth as aged whiskey.
“You’re used to giving orders,” It wasn't a statement, it was a fact. Even as I tried to sound casual my pulse hammered in my throat.
His gray eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “And you’re used to fighting them.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but the words died when his fingers brushed lightly over my bare knee under the table. Just a feather-light touch, yet it sent electricity racing straight between my legs.
We barely spoke after that. The drinks arrived, and he poured for both of us. Every time our eyes met, the air grew thicker, heavier. I took a sip, the cold liquid burning down my throat, but it did nothing to cool the fire spreading through my body.
“You’re dangerous,” he murmured after a long, charged silence, his gaze dropping to my lips. “Most women in a dress like that want attention. You look like you want to disappear… yet here you are, letting a stranger put his hands on you.”
His fingers traced higher on my thigh, slow and deliberate. I shivered, my breath catching.
“Maybe I’m tired of being good,” I whispered.
His hand slid further, gripping my thigh with enough pressure to make me gasp softly. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below my ear. “Good girls don’t come to places like this looking like temptations.”
Before I could respond, his mouth claimed mine.
The kiss was hungry, demanding, and devastating. He tasted like vodka and power. His hand moved to the back of my neck, tilting my head exactly how he wanted as he deepened the kiss. I moaned into his mouth, my fingers instinctively curling into the lapels of his expensive suit. Heat pooled low in my belly as his tongue stroked mine with expert dominance.
When he finally pulled back, my lips felt swollen and my breathing was ragged. His eyes had turned storm-dark.
He didn’t ask. He simply stood, offering his hand. I took it. The second I was on my feet, he pulled me flush against his hard body. One arm wrapped around my waist as he led me out of the booth and onto the dance floor.
The music wrapped around us, sensual and slow. He spun me once, then pressed my back against his chest, his hips rolling against mine in perfect rhythm. I could feel every inch of him. He was hard, warm, and unmistakably aroused. His lips grazed my neck as one hand splayed possessively across my stomach, holding me tight.
“I’m taking you home tonight,” he whispered against my ear, voice rough with desire. “And when I do… I’m not letting you leave until you’ve forgotten every man who came before me.”
My knees nearly buckled.
God help me… I didn’t want him to let me go.
- Writer
