A Stranger's Touch Under the Strobe Lights
# Under The Strobe Lights The bass pulsed through my body, a primal heartbeat that drowned out every other thought except one. I swayed on the edge of the dance floor, my short, blonde hair catching the fractured light. The silk of my dres
Chapter 1
The bass pulsed through my body, a primal heartbeat that drowned out every other thought except one. I swayed on the edge of the dance floor, my short, blonde hair catching the fractured light. The silk of my dress felt whisper-thin against my skin, and I knew my freckles were stark under the strobes. My husband, Mitchell, was at home. And I was here, a shiver of intention coiling low in my stomach.
His eyes found me first. Blue meeting blue across the smoky room. He was a stranger, his gaze tender yet hungry as it traced the line of my throat, the hint of my cleavage. A playful smile tugged at my lips, even as a blush warmed my cheeks. He didn’t speak, just offered his hand. The touch was electric, his palm warm and sure against mine as he drew me into the moving crowd.
Our bodies aligned, not grinding, but flowing. His breath was hot against my ear. “You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble. I turned my face, our lips a breath apart. The obstacle of my wedding band felt heavy, then insignificant. This was my choice. My desire, awakening.
Chapter 2
His hand slid from my waist, his fingers lacing with mine to pull me from the heart of the dance floor. The cool air of a secluded corridor hit my skin, a shock after the club’s heat. He backed me gently against the textured wall, his body a solid, warm barrier against the world.
“Tell me your name,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“Molly,” I breathed out, the confession feeling as intimate as a touch.
“Molly,” he repeated, the name a caress. His thumb traced my lower lip. “That blush… it’s everywhere, isn’t it?” His other hand came up, his knuckles just grazing the swell of my breast through the silk. A sharp, sweet ache pulsed between my legs. “I want to taste every freckle. Starting here.”
He dipped his head, his mouth hot and open against the base of my throat. I gasped, my head falling back against the wall. My hands found his shoulders, clinging to the solid muscle there.
“My husband…” I murmured, the words automatic, a ghost.
He stilled, lifting his gaze to mine. Those blue eyes held no judgment, only a dark, tender hunger. “He’s not here. We are. Do you want me to stop?”
I shook my head, my voice a thread of sound. “No.”
“Then tell me what you want, Molly.” His hand cupped me fully now, his palm a brand over my nipple, which hardened instantly against his touch. “Use your words for me.”
“I want your mouth,” I whispered, the explicitness of it sending a jolt through me. “On me. Everywhere.”
Chapter 3
His smile was slow, dangerous. “Everywhere. My favorite word.”
His fingers hooked into the thin strap of my dress, sliding it down my shoulder. His mouth followed the path his thumb had taken, searing a wet line to the sensitive skin just above my breast. I whimpered, my nails digging into his shirt.
“Is this what you imagined when you walked in here, Molly?” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot. “A stranger’s hands on you? His mouth?”
“Yes,” I gasped, arching into him. “Just like this.”
He pulled the silk down further, just enough to free one perfect, freckled breast. The cool air pebbled my nipple before his mouth closed over it, hot and wet and perfect. A sharp cry tore from my throat as he sucked, his tongue flicking and circling. The vibrations went straight to my core, a deep, aching throb.
“So responsive,” he praised, switching to lavish the same attention on my other breast. His hand slid down my side, over my hip, and grasped my thigh, hiking my leg up around his waist. The thin barrier of my panties was pressed firmly against the hard ridge in his trousers. “You’re dripping for me already, aren’t you? I can feel your heat.”
“Please,” I begged, mindless, grinding against him. The friction was maddening, not enough.
“Please what?” He lifted his head, his lips swollen and glistening. “Use your words, beautiful. Tell me exactly what you need.”
“I need to feel you,” I panted, my blue eyes locked on his. “Skin on skin. I need your mouth… lower.”
His groan was raw. “Fuck, Molly.” He captured my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging into my mouth, mimicking the rhythm I desperately craved elsewhere. When he broke away, we were both breathless. “Not here. Somewhere I can lay you down and take my time. Somewhere I can taste every single inch of you.”
He took my hand, leading me down the dim corridor, away from the muffled bass. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic counter-rhythm to my desire. My husband’s face flashed in my mind, but it was just a ghost, washed away by the tidal wave of need this stranger had unleashed.
Chapter 4
The corridor ended at an unmarked metal door. He pushed it open, revealing a small, dimly lit room—a forgotten utility space filled with stacked chairs and haphazard cleaning supplies. The air smelled of lemon cleaner and dust. He didn’t hesitate, guiding me inside and kicking the door shut behind us with his heel, plunging us into near-darkness, lit only by a sliver of light from under the door.
His hands were on me instantly, turning me to face the wall, his broad chest pressing against my back. “Everywhere,” he breathed into my hair, his voice thick with promise. His hands slid up my thighs, gathering the silk of my dress. The cool air kissed my bare skin as he pushed the fabric up to my waist. His fingers hooked into the sides of my lace panties and dragged them down my legs. I stepped out of them, my heart hammering.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his hands smoothing over my bare ass. One hand slipped between my legs from behind, his fingers parting my wet folds. I cried out, my forehead pressing against the cool wall. “So slick for me. So ready.” He rubbed his palm over my pussy, the rough texture of his skin against my most sensitive flesh sending jolts of pure electricity up my spine.
He dropped to his knees behind me. I felt his hot breath first, then the wet, broad stroke of his tongue from my opening all the way up to the very top. I gasped, my hands slapping against the wall for balance. He ate me like a man starved, his mouth possessive and thorough, his tongue delving inside me before flicking mercilessly over my clit. The obscene, wet sounds filled the small room, louder than the distant music. Pleasure coiled tight and deep, a spring winding to its breaking point. I was panting, begging, my husband’s name a distant, meaningless echo as this stranger’s tongue brought me to the very edge of a shattering climax.