We walked in together, your hand at the small of my back, guiding me through the entrance of the club like you always do. Protective. Possessive. Proud.
The air was thick with heat and intention, the low thrum of music vibrating through the walls. Red light spilled across velvet furniture, chains hanging like jewellery from the ceiling. The scent of leather, candle wax, and sweat curled around me like smoke. It was beautiful. It was dangerous. And it was ours.
You leaned down, your lips brushing my ear. “You’re mine tonight.” Your voice was low, thick with promise. “All mine.”
My body reacted instantly, a flush blooming under my skin. I wanted your hands on me. I wanted to be undone by you, right here, where anyone could walk by and hear what you do to me.
You led me to one of the private rooms in the back, fingers laced with mine. It wasn’t our first time here, but every time felt new. Charged. Like we were tasting sin together for the first time.
Inside, the door shut behind us. I heard the click of the lock, and something shifted in the air between us. You stepped closer, your hands already unzipping my dress, kissing each new inch of skin you revealed. I melted into your touch, into the way your fingers ran over my hips, my back, then gripped my arse firmly.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” you whispered, biting gently at my collarbone. “You in that tight little dress, knowing I’d get to tear it off you tonight.”
I let out a breathless laugh, but it turned into a gasp when you spun me around and pressed me up against the padded wall. Your hands pushed the rest of my dress down, letting it pool at my ankles. You tugged my knickers to the side and slipped your fingers between my legs, groaning when you found how wet I already was for you.
“You’re so ready,” you murmured. “You always are for me.”
I nodded, unable to speak as your fingers slid inside me, curling just right, your thumb brushing my clit until my legs shook. I braced myself on the wall, panting, letting myself ride the edge under your control. But you pulled away before I could fall over it.
“Not yet,” you said with a smile that sent shivers through me. “I want to feel you fall apart around me.”
You turned me to face you again, kissing me hard, like you couldn’t get enough of me. And I kissed you back just as desperately, tugging your shirt open, pushing it off your shoulders, running my hands over your chest. I loved the way you looked at me—like I was the only thing that mattered. Like I was everything.
You stepped back just enough to grab a thick leather cushion from the nearby bench and tossed it onto the floor at your feet. Then you looked at me, eyes full of command.
“On your knees,” you said, your voice dark and low.
I obeyed without hesitation, sinking down in front of you, the coolness of the leather pressing against my skin. My knees spread instinctively, my hands resting on my thighs, palms up, waiting for your touch.
You stroked yourself slowly as you looked down at me, your cock already slick from the teasing you’d given me. I watched, entranced, lips parted, breath shallow. You stepped closer, letting the tip brush over my lips, and I looked up at you, silently asking for more.
But you didn’t give it to me just yet.
“Not your mouth,” you said. “Not tonight. I want you bent over, moaning loud enough for the entire fucking club to hear.”
I shivered at your words. You helped me to my feet, then turned me around and pushed me forward onto the padded bench. My body folded over it, arse raised, fully exposed to you. I could feel the heat of your stare on me, even before your hands returned, spreading me open, caressing me with a reverence that felt almost worshipful.
Then I felt the blunt pressure of your cock at my entrance. You slid in slow, deep, stretching me all over again. I exhaled sharply, hands gripping the edges of the bench, body arching to take every inch of you.
You set a rhythm that made my head spin—slow enough to torment, deep enough to make me see stars. Your hands dug into my hips, your pace unrelenting. Every thrust pushed a gasp from my lungs, every slap of skin on skin echoed like a pulse through the room.
“You’re mine,” you growled behind me, leaning forward, your chest pressed to my back. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasped. “Only yours.”
And in that moment, I wasn’t just saying it. I felt it, deep in every inch of my body that you claimed as yours.
“You feel so fucking good,” you growled into my neck, your voice rough with desire. “So tight. So perfect.”
I whimpered, unable to do anything but feel. Your cock hit just the right spot inside me, and when you angled your hips just slightly, I shattered around you, crying out your name as the orgasm ripped through me. My walls clenched around you, and you groaned, pushing even deeper.
You didn’t stop. You fucked me through it, kissed me hard, made me ride the aftershocks until I was trembling, boneless, a mess in your arms. And then you let go too, burying yourself inside me, letting out a sound that was pure, raw pleasure as you came deep within me.
You held me there for a moment, our bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in sync. I looked into your eyes and saw everything—lust, love, devotion, hunger.
This wasn’t just passion. It was trust. It was heat and intimacy and surrender, shared completely between us.
And the night was far from over.
Words by Frodo 