Slow Dancing Burning Room Novels & Stories

Soft, slow music played from the speakers. The moment I stepped inside and closed the door, the air thickened with raw tension. “You’re playing with fire again, Miss Lila,” he said, voice low and rough. “That dress is barely legal for a dance lesson.” I smiled and walked straight into his arms for the starting hold. “Maybe I don’t want a lesson tonight,” I whispered, pressing my body flush against his. “Maybe I want you to teach me something else.” We started with a slow, sensual contemporary piece. The movements were fluid and intimate — lifts, dips, and close holds that left no space between us.

We dried each other and when we got to the bed I asked if they would do each other for a few minutes before I joined in. Bette started kissing Carla. I found the music station on the TV and played soft music in our room. They danced as if we were still downstairs dirty dancing. They included very dirty touches, pulling nipples, fingers in pussies, squeezing their asses and kisses that could have started a forest fire. By the time they stopped dancing and went to the bed Carla had already cum.

“Say no more. From today, you’re bubu bear, okay?” He nodded slowly, eyes glinting under the low light. “Now the rest of you, start dancing for Daddy,” I barked, voice sharp but playful. I reached for the remote, raised it above my head, and tapped the button to turn on the music. The bass slid into the room. I picked a slowed R&B track, because it was my favorite. “C’mon boys,” I sneered, leaning back with a glass of whiskey in my hand. “Slow dance for me. Show me what I paid for. Be a bad boy for Daddy.”

my voice quivers. My mind couldn’t process what he just said. The word SEXONITE keeps on echoing in my mind. I almost fall, but Damien manages to catch me. He holds my hand and invites me to dance like crazy. We go round and round the circle. At first, I was nervous. I was nervous he would say he was the guy that night. So as my feet follow his guide in dancing, I open my trembling mouth and ask him, “A-are you?” Then he stops, and he grimaces at me.

by Beyoncé poured through the speakers—slow, seductive, and sin-soaked. Demetria froze for a fraction of a second, eyes flicking up to mine, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. I smirked. “You gonna stand there, Wildfire? Or are you gonna move for me?” She turned around deliberately, pressing her back to my chest as the rhythm took over. Her hips rolled, slow and deliberate, every movement syncing perfectly with the sultry hum of Beyoncé’s voice. My hands slid to her waist, guiding her as she ground into me with that slow, teasing whine that made the room vanish.

A faint music with the softness of expensive silk hummed gently in the dimly lit room barely illuminated by the red lamps at the four corners. Several plastic candles with dim lights sat idly on the scarlet clad vintage tables and next to the walls, but the smoke that settled in the atmosphere did well to dull their lights. They emanated from the bowls of burning incense placed on both sides of the room giving the atmosphere a very euphoric vibe. Women in light, skimpy dresses seductively swayed their hips in tune with the hypnotic music. A fine number of bare pale skins dancing in different yet synchronized movements.

And until now, that had been enough. There was a knock at the door. Seems like Madame Deli was faster than the promised twenty minutes. Three girls entered the dimly lit motel room. One of them looked at the cracked lamp on the floor and looked at me, and decided not to mention it. Smart. One turned on slow, pulsing music. They began dancing, bodies moving like liquid sin, hips rolling, backs arching, hands sliding over their tits and between their thighs. My cock throbbed. I leaned back against the headboard, stroking my thick length slowly, eyes devouring them.

Heat flashes through me so fast I almost drop my glass. The jukebox plays something old and slow. Sophie drags me up to dance. Her hands find my waist. My arms loop around her neck. We sway off-beat. She spins me until the room blurs. The handful of late-night regulars clap and whistle. We bow like rock stars.

“You are quite beautiful.” “That will defiantly earn you a dance later.” She said with a giggle. Jill pulled me along and we put our coats in the first room and then continued on to a large room on the first floor that was playing some music from speakers mounted all around the room. On one end of the room was a large brick fireplace with a crackling fire, and sofa’s and soft chairs arrayed around it. Above the fireplace was a huge plasma TV. There were a large number of couples already dancing, ranging from what I guessed were mid forties to mid twenties. The women were all beautifully dressed, and to be honest, pretty hot looking.

Was this how I would die? Tristan would think it was deliberate. He would think I was so angry that I burned down his house. The thought of Tristan's misunderstanding hurt almost as much as the fire's heat. I prayed desperately, "Why would the door jam at a crucial moment?" My body felt weak, my mind dizzy. Something wasn't right, but I couldn't tell what it was. The smoke was disorienting, making it hard to think or breathe. I tried to link Tristan, but my wolf was docile. I began to suspect I was inhaling more than smoke. I knew I would die in there, so I mustered my will and energy and tried to link one last time. "Tristan, help me," I linked him.