Beautiful Storm Read Online Free PDF

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    “I need to piss. Back in a few,” I state, and head off towards the toilets.
    Trying to get there resembles walking up the down escalator, but I manage it, relieve myself, and walk back out. I survey the area, do a double take, and stop dead at the sight of a woman shaking her arse on the dance floor. She’s wearing a figure-hugging black dress, low in the back, a light sheen of perspiration covering the exposed skin I had fixated on earlier. Her hair’s up, exposing her neck, and when she gyrates around, my breath catches in my throat.
    She throws her head back and laughs at something a dark-haired woman says to her, before the friend gets pulled away. Even in the mass of bodies heaving on the dance floor, she still stands out.
    Lizzie.
    Alone.
    And the smile she wears makes me want to claim her, here and now, on the dance floor.
    For a few moments, I take in every movement her body makes while she’s lost in the music. The flex of her calves, the sway of her hips, the way a lock of hair trails down her neck. My cock swells as thoughts of those same hips moving aggressively against mine flood my mind. I’m drawn nearer, wanting to touch. My fingers tingle with the need.
    The music alters, bringing her out of the trance she was in. I move even closer, drawn to the curves of her tits straining against her dress. She lifts her head and wipes away the hairs stuck to her face. Her gaze wanders the area looking for something, someone, before her eyes meet mine.
    Well, I’m fucking it. She’s having me—every fucking inch. I’m only a few feet away, but the sudden desire in her eyes glows brighter than the strobe lights. It’s all the invitation I need.
    Without speaking, she takes my outstretched hand, and I pull her into me. Her scent fills my senses, a heady combination of what can only be described as sunflowers mixed with the fresh smell of rain. Her hitched breath grazing across my neck has my half-mast cock hard within seconds. I keep a firm hold on her hand, place the other on her lower back, and press her against me. Every inch moulds into my body. A perfect fit. Her tits press against my chest, and I swear I can feel how hard her nipples are through my shirt.
    Small fingers wrap around my bicep, while mine graze across her damp, silky skin, as we sway to the music. Her head drops onto my shoulder. Each breath she takes grazes my neck, sending shudders through my taut body. Hard as stone, my cock presses up against her hip, as she rocks against it. The sensation of her body moving close to mine pushes me almost to the point of no return. My pulse increases, thundering through my ears louder than the music, and the urge to mark her as mine takes hold.
    The song changes and she pulls away. My whole body protests at her loss. She examines my face as I wrap my fingers under her chin—asking for permission without words. Asking her to let me claim those fucking lips as mine. Her chest rises and falls; she’s as breathless as I feel. But the desire in her eyes splutters to a stop, and a startled expression crosses her face. My hand falls away from her.
    She mouths, “I’m sorry,” before she turns on her heels and runs away through the crowd. I’m left standing in the middle of the dance floor, with a raging hard-on, wondering what the fuck just happened.
    A random girl bumps into me and rubs herself up against my body, but all I care about now is where the woman went who lit something inside me yet again. I remove the stray hands, exit the dance floor, and fight my way back to the bar.
    Bear raises his eyebrows at me when I approach him. “What was that?”
    “What was what?”
    “You. Dancing?”
    “It was me dancing , fuckwit.”
    “Who was the chick?”
    I rub a hand over my head and give him a lopsided grin. “Lizzie. The reporter I told you about from Nitrous magazine.”
    His face hardens a little before it relaxes. He lets out a low whistle. “Well, now I know what all the fuss is about.