Beautiful Stranger

reduced to the place where he filled me, where he rubbed firmly against my clit with every stroke, where the warm skin of his hips pressed to my thighs.
    There wasn’t any more talking, only small thrusts that grew faster, and harder. The space between us filled instead with quiet sounds of praise and urging. His teeth pressed into my neck and I gripped his shoulders for fear I might fall over the edge or even somewhere else, not onto a dance floor but into a world where I couldn’t get enough of being so exposed, having my pleasure so visible to anyone watching—especially this man.
    “Christ, you’re gorgeous.” He leaned back, looking down, and sped up a little. “I can’t stop looking at your perfect skin and— fuck —where I’m moving in you.”
    Light was clearly on his side because to me he was backlit, just the silhouette of my stranger. I could see nothing when I looked down but dark shadows and the suggestion of movement: him into me, and out again. Slick and hard, pressing against me with every pass. And, as if to emphasize that I didn’t really need to see anyway, the lights dimmed almost to black as a lazy, oscillating beat filled the club.
    “I took video of you dancing,” he whispered.
    It was a few, long moments before his words registered above the feeling of him moving in me. “Wh—what?”
    “I don’t know why. I won’t show it round. I just . . .” He watched my face, slowing down enough presumablyso I could think. “You were so fucking possessed. I wanted to remember. Bloody hell, I feel like I’m confessing my sins.”
    I swallowed, and he bent closer, kissing me before I asked, “Is it weird that I like that you did that?”
    He laughed into my mouth, moving in and out of me again with slow, deliberate strokes. “Just enjoy it, right? I like to watch you. You were performing for me. There isn’t anything wrong with it.”
    He lifted my other leg, wrapping both around his waist, and then, for the span of several perfect seconds in the darkness, he started to really move. Fast and urgent, he let out the most delicious grunts and there would be no question what was happening if someone happened upon our little corner of this balcony. With that thought alone—where we were, what we were doing, and the possibility that someone could see this man taking me so roughly—I was lost. My head rolled back against the wall and I could feel it
    feel it
    feel it
    building in my belly so low and heavy, an aching ball rolling down my spine and then out, exploding along my sex so hard I cried out, not even caring a little if anyone could hear me. I didn’t even need to see his face to know he was watching me come apart.
    “Holy fuck.” His hips grew jagged and rough and then he came with a low groan, fingers digging hard into my hips.
    He might bruise me, I thought. And then: I hope he bruises me.
    I wanted a reminder of this night, and this Sara when I left, to better differentiate the new life I was so determined to have from the old one.
    He stilled, leaning heavily against me, with his lips planted gently against my neck. “Good Lord, little stranger. You’ve wrecked me.”
    He pulsed in me—aftershocks of his orgasm—and I wanted him to stay buried deep like this for eternity. I imagined how we looked from across the club: a man pressing a woman to a wall, the hint of her legs around his hips visible in the darkness.
    His broad hand smoothed up my leg from my ankle to my hip, and then with a small moan he pulled out, set me on my feet, stepped back, and unrolled the condom.
    Holy hell, I had never even come close to doing something this insane. My grin took over my entire face as my legs shook almost to the point of collapse.
    Don’t freak out, Sara. Don’t freak out.
    It was perfect. Everything about this had been perfect, but it had to end right here. Do it all differently. No names, no strings. No regrets.
    Straightening my dress, I stretched on my toes to kiss his lips once. “That was unbelievable.”
    He nodded, humming a little into the kiss. “It was. Shall we—?”
    “I’m going to go downstairs.” I began to back away and gave him a small wave.
    He stared at me, confused. “You’re—”
    “Good. I’m good. You’re good?”
    He nodded, dazed.
    “So . . . thanks.” Adrenaline still buzzing in my veins, I turned before he could respond, and left him standing with his pants unbuttoned, his lips twisted in a surprised grin.
    Minutes later I found Chloe