Spoiled by my Ex's Uncle 6

The air in the room is heavy with the scent of our bodies merged together, the tension  between us so thick and suffocating it filled every space of the room. His hands wee every where, sliding over the bare skin of my thighs and pushing the hem of my dress as his lips became more intense, kissing me deeply, and his scent overwhelming me as a whole, stealing every bit of rational sense left in me.

I was left with no thought but that of him in that very moment, his body on mine, his intoxicating sense that drowned me in him. His lips moving on mine were rough, insistent, and I let myself drown in it…in him too.

I am not sure how we ended up in one of the rooms at the club, a vip room I supposed but my brain was too much of a mess and a haze for me to recall exactly how the events escalated. One minute we were kissing in the hallway, and the next, my back was hitting the bed as he hovered above me, his entire being taking me away to nirvana. Most of the alcohol was out of my system by this moment, but I was drunk on something far more intoxicating than alcohol.

I am drunk on this man, his scent, his kisses, his touch and everything about him in this very moment. I am drunk on lust.

For the first time in a very long time, I truly felt wanted, alive even. His touch left little bits of electricity through me, igniting something raw, and something I had not felt in years, not even with Matt, never with Matt, and never with anyone else.

My dress has already ridden up dangerously high, beyond that line which I would normally allow myself to go if I was truly that aware of my actions, and his fingers, though rough and calloused hands that spoke of a long history unknown to me, traced the line of my skin with an expert like touch, sending shivers down my spine and leaving tiny, yet immensely pleasurable sparks in its awake. His scent was forest like, yet dark and smoky, pulling in deeper. I leaned into it, desperate to feel more of him, to smell more of him, to feel him touch me more.

This man something about him was different. His touch felt possessive, yes, but in a way that did not feel suffocating, it did not suffocate me in any way but made me feel even more wanted. His touch, it was deliberate, almost as much as his presence was commanding even. I can feel the raw power radiating off him, pure Alpha power that made Matt seem like nothing but a small and dispersible shadow in compare. On normal situations, I would caution myself to get involved with any Alpha like man, or any man entirely but I truly could not care in this very moment.

His lips were now at my neck, hot, hungry, almost like a man starved down to my exposed cleavage, leaving his tiny love marks, stark evident of out time together. I shivered as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin, right where my mate mark is supposed to be, and my breath got caught in my throat as I threw my head back, a moan escaping lips as I tightened my hold around the fabric of his shirt.

Then, I heard his voice, gruff and heavy with emotions as he whispered in my ears, “Are you sure about this?” His voice was deep, deeper than it had sounded earlier and fuck did I yearn to hear more of it.

I hesitated for a second, not because I did not want this but because I want it a bit too much that it scared me. I want it so much because I am tire of waiting for Matt to choose me, to finally see me and make me feel the things this stranger man does. But right in this very moment, I did not care about Matt, but rather this man that makes me feel alive even.

So, swallowing down a lump, I nodded, my own voice thick with emotions, “I am,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as the words slipped out.

His grip tightened, and I felt his fingers move to the zipper of my dress, ready to strip me bare and cross the line of no return. My body was ready to give in, to forget everything and just to fully enjoy the moment. But just as he began to pull it down, my phone buzzed sharply from some where nearby, cutting through the haze of desire that clouded my mind.

The vibration of the device was relentless without a halt, pulling me back to reality as the pool of messages came.

I blinked, trying to focus as the fog of lust lifted for just that split second. I turned my head around, glancing at the night stand where my phone lit up with a notification that came through, and my heart lurched as I saw the name that appeared on the screen.

Matt. His messages poured in without a stop, as if he was typing all his emotions out in single strands of messages rather than just one message as a whole.

Matt: Where are you?

Matt: I just came back home early.

Matt: Where did you go to?

Matt: Why are you not at home?

Matt: Why are you out this late, Leila.

Matt: Reply me immediately you see my messages.

Matt: I mean it, Leila.