The Mating Game: A Steamy, Suspense, and Sensual Short Story

The Mating Game

A sensual, steamy, passionate story

I looked up, and there was that fleeting smile again.

The kind that said — I’m slowly undressing you with my eyes, but I’m too shy to say it out loud.

She longingly looked away, giggling lightly with her friend, while I sat back and observed silently from my booth, watching her every move.

She sneaks a peek at me, wondering if I was onto her, but my hat stayed low over my face, shielding my assessing eyes from her view.

Softly, she sighed, half-heartedly returning her attention to her friend who was animatedly gesticulating about something she was excited about, with frequent glances thrown my way, but I made no move to acknowledge her advances, happy to watch from my seat.

The first rule of the chase. Never reveal you’re onto your game.

So, I watched, drinking in the way the colored light danced over her petite features, with her ruby-red lips inviting me to have a taste.

The disk jockey switched the tempo of the beat with a new song, and my breath hitched in my throat, watching her stand from her seat to take the floor with her friend.

My hellion was so damn fine.

She wore a white dress with a slit that rode up to the side of her belly, hooked together with a thin strap just above her upper thigh. The dress clung to her like silk and left much to my imagination.

Her skin glowed flawlessly in the dark, her seductive twists calling out to me.

The urge to yank her from the dancefloor and slam her back into the back wall consumed me, but I sat still, allowing her allure to arouse me from her across the room.

I wagered with myself that she had not a strap of underwear beneath that daredevil dress, but with that thought came the rush of blood to my south region, rousing it from its slumber.

My fingers itched to sink into her warmth, and the thought of hearing her moan my name when I slid into her made me shift uncomfortably in my seat.

Enough of the self-torture.

Nothing would stop me from tasting this woman before the night was over, and I’ll be dammed if I didn’t.

Slowly rising from my seat, I tipped back my hat, holding her gaze as I made my way through the small crowd to her, telling her the very thing I wished to do to her without words.

I heard her shocked gasp as I neared, the light dancing over my face. My lips curved upward when recognition dawned on her, but I didn’t slow down.

She was mine now. Consequences be dammed.

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