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To Want By: Amphitrite (papervanity@gmail.com) Rated: PG-13 Summary: One night is not enough. You watched her writhe beautifully under
the lights, all black and silver and blue. She was made up to point where it
was almost ridiculous, with her sinfully tight jeans, a deliciously revealing
black top, heavy black eyeliner, and glitter splashed in some very calculated
places. She twisted and as she turned her head new purple streaks shone,
dangling earrings glittering knowingly in the light. God, she was a walking dream. What kind of
man would be able to resist that body? Or in your case, what kind of woman?
But then again, that was the problem, wasn’t it? She was irresistible,
beautiful, stunning, breathtaking… And everyone wanted her. * She said something to the man she had been dancing with, and he
looked disappointed but nodded. You caught him leaving a lingering caress
down her backside and you growled. How dare that fucking bastard— You watched as she headed your way and all possessive trains of
thoughts were forgotten. You hurriedly downed your drink and instantly felt
the comforting buzz of alcohol taking over. Much better. You signaled the
bartender for another one. “A “I don’t dance. You know that.” The bartender set her drink down and she took a sip. “But you must try! It won’t
hurt. Come and have a little fun. Loosen up a bit, yeah?” “I’m having fun,” you protested. She rolled her eyes. “By sitting here and doing nothing but stare
moodily at the crowd? Wow, sounds like loads of fun to me!” She downed her
drink. “Come on, join us!” You raised an eyebrow, knowing she wasn’t going to give up until she
had gotten her way but not wanting to succumb anyway. “Us? Who’s
us?” “Us!” She waved vaguely towards the dance floor. “Anyone who
dances—and some who can’t, but that’s okay, too—and just lets
go and has fun.” “I can’t dance, Anna!” She grinned and stood up. “Anybody can
dance. You just think you can’t. C’mon.” She dragged you away from the
bar and towards the horribly intimidating dance floor, full of sweaty,
scantily clad bodies dancing and grinding to Nelly’s “Hot in Herre”. After she decided that the two of you had
assimilated far enough into the crowd, she began moving to the beat of the
music. Fuck, she was so hot. And so talented at
shaking that beautiful ass. You didn’t realize that you were just
standing there, staring, until she called out, “Dance! Rosalind!” Remembering
that you were in the middle of a crowded dance floor and looked like an
absolute idiot just standing still, you attempted to move vaguely to the
thumping bass. You knew you looked stupid while everyone was freaking and you
were dancing like a sixth grader attending a middle school dance for the
first time. She laughed in approval and shouted over the music. “Like this!” She turned and demonstrated by grinding
into an invisible partner and sinking slowly to the floor before raising
herself back up. Fucking hell. Did she know how good she was at that?
Did she know how that made you lose any grip on reality that you previously
had? Did she know how watching her do that killed you again and again, every
time? Did she know how fucking badly you wanted her, right then and there?
You shoved the inappropriate thoughts away and even though you felt foolish,
you attempted to imitate her. She grinned when you got the gist of it and did
a completely unexpected thing. She pulled you close and began dancing
with—against—you. You instantly froze and melted simultaneously. She sensed
your discomfort and ground into you convincingly. You barely held back a
moan. Her arms wrapped around your neck, her chest flush against your own,
her crotch rubbing against yours, her legs fitting tightly around yours, and
her head thrown back. Beautiful. When she roughly gripped your head and
pressed her lips against yours, you thought you had died and gone to heaven.
Without hesitation, you had buried your hands in her hair and kissed back
with desperate fervor. Your mind went blank when she began to use her
tongue—friends or not friends, what did it matter when the object of your
dreams seemed so eager to have you? The slippery slide of skin on skin and
tongue against tongue was just right, and it was inevitable that the
two of you would end up tumbling in one of the side rooms. She stopped,
though, after your clothes had been flung off. “Rosie… Are you sure we should—” A
rational thought in the midst of a completely irrational incident. She had
kissed you numb, and you could think of nothing but having all of her and
giving yourself to her. “Yes. I want this.” You wanted her so bad,
you couldn’t give up this precious moment for the sake of friendship. Who
knew when you would get the opportunity again, if ever? You pulled her flush
against you and began tracing her earlobe with a wicked tongue. * You lightly touched your lips, and you
imagined her lips capturing yours once more. You could almost feel the
burning sensation, the feeling of completeness; you could almost taste her
artificial strawberry flavored lip gloss; you could almost feel her soft
hands gripping you. You nearly crumbled when you saw the lovebite she had left on your neck. Last night, you had
been so proud to receive it, so glad that you would have a souvenir of one of
the best moments of your life. Now, it only served to remind you of what you
could never have. You knew it was wrong to be having second
thoughts about your decision; you knew that you should’ve been the happiest
girl on the planet. You knew that you had gotten much more than you truly
deserved, that you should be appreciative of the gift you had received. But there was no hiding it. Part of you wished that she had stayed,
that you meant something to her, the way she did to you. That you had been
more than just one of her random fucks. You were so disappointed. |