Black Romance - 18 Dance For Me

Pulling my face out of his grasp, I walked past him, putting some distance between us. “You have no idea who you’re screwing with, you have no fucking clue.”

“I know what this is, I know all about this place, don’t think I don’t.” Salt’s lips twisted into a wicked smile. “I think you under estimate who I am. I can do things for you.”

He can do things for me? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“What do you want from me?” I asked, holding out my arms. “If you know all about this place, then why the hell do you keep coming back? Why do you pay me for doing nothing and taunt me like a child holding a magnifying glass on an ant. You’re not like the other guys that come here—”

Cutting me off, his voice went sour. “You’re right, I’m not like the other guys.” Salt started walking forward and instinctively I backed up. “I’m nothing like the fucking creeps that come in here.”

Each step brought him closer, his power an electric charge I could feel in the air. It was like standing outside during a thunderstorm, when the air was filled with so much static it prickled the tiny hairs on your arms.

I could feel every nerve, every small pore and thin hair as my skin buzzed and tingled from head to toe.

Stepping backwards, I wanted to keep the space between us, but he just kept coming. The cement wall crept up on me, pressing into my back, leaving me no place else to go.

Caging me in with his hands by my head, he pressed flat palms into the concrete blocks, sealing me in place. He was so close, his chest inches from mine, his face hovering at a distance that pulled on my body.

The hair on the back of my neck bristled as he let out a slow hot breath. Licking his lips, his eyes settled on my face.

“Let me tell you what type of man I am.” His toes touched mine as he stared down at me, his arms thickening as his muscles surged with testosterone. “I’m every other man’s worst nightmare. I’m the darkness that seeps into your dreams and steals your breath, I’m the man your father warned you about and the one your mother told you to stay away from. I’m the last face you see if you fuck me over and first face you see when you open your eyes after you die. I’m not like any other man, because there is no one else on earth like me.”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in the back of my throat, I spoke softly. “What do you want?” My voice was weak and brittle, despite my effort to stay strong.

“I want you to hear me, I want you to know that I can give you things. I want you to understand that I am the power, the muscle, and the voice, that will be heard.”

Scrunching my brows, confusion smeared my expression. “I don’t understand.”

Looming over me, his cologne stole my senses. His scent was powerful, an erotic mix of mint and sage. My brain suckled the euphoric flavors, devouring every last drop until I couldn’t think straight.

The strength in his voice tugged on my body, causing me to sway on my heels. I was trapped, but he wasn’t holding me, I couldn’t move, but he wasn’t touching me. Every breath brought him closer, causing my back to arch forward. And every exhale took him away, leaving me hollow and cold.

It felt like we were in this dance, one that was controlled by just his presence, his tenacity, his vigor.

“You will.” Holding out his hand for me to take, I stayed still.

I wasn’t sure what to think. I didn’t know if I should fear him or trust him. Every bone in my body felt like jelly as my brain swirled trying to figure him out.

My muscles moved before my mind told them to, placing my hand into his. Curling his fingers around mine, he pulled me away from the wall, lowering his mouth to my ear.

“Now dance,” he said, his breath flowing over the shell of my ear, making goosebumps jump across my skin. Leading me along, he guided me towards the stage and jerked his head. “Dance for me, my flower.”

And just like that, as if ownership had transferred with just a few words.

My body did as it was told.

His voice the puppeteer to my strings.

I became his.