The gala was beautiful, filled with elegance and laughter, but all I could think about was you. Even in a room full of people, my eyes found you easily. You carried yourself with that quiet confidence I love, so sharp in your tuxedo, yet all I could see was the way you looked at me. Like you wanted to strip away the layers of the evening and have only me.
It wasn’t long before we couldn’t take it anymore. You gave me that look - the one that says so much without a single word. I barely nodded before you took my hand and led me out of the main room, weaving through hallways until we found a quiet corner. It wasn’t planned, but that made it better. There, at the end of the hall, was a private sitting room - empty, waiting.
It was the epitome of sophistication, adorned with rich mahogany paneling inlaid with large mirrors, and opulent drapery covering the windows. The ambiance was intimate, a world apart from the bustling gala outside.
As the door closed behind us, the atmosphere shifted, charged with unspoken desire. You approached me with that familiar, smoldering gaze, your presence commanding yet tender. You didn’t ask. You didn’t need to. You were already on your knees, your hands slipping up the sides of my dress, gathering the fabric slowly. The contrast between the elegant setting and the raw intensity of your touch sent a rush of heat through me.
“Let me,” you said softly, looking up at me. Your voice was steady, but your eyes burned with that need I know so well. I leaned back against the mirrored wall, one hand bracing myself, the other threading through your hair.
Your lips found the sensitive skin of my thighs first, teasing, drawing me in, making me forget to breathe. The way you touched me, kissed me, was deliberate - not rushed but completely consuming. You knew every way to unravel me, to make me tremble under your hands.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt as powerful or as vulnerable as I did in that moment. The way you knelt there, completely devoted, made me feel like the center of the universe. Every stroke of your tongue, every gentle graze of your fingers, sent me spiraling further into you.
I couldn’t hold back. I didn’t want to. My breath hitched, and my body shuddered as you carried me over the edge, steadying me as I let go. The mirrors reflected everything - the flush in my cheeks, the way my fingers clung to your hair, the soft smile on your face when you looked up at me.
You stood, smoothing your suit and the fabric of my gown like nothing had happened, though the way you glanced at me told me everything had. You kissed me softly, your hand lingering on my cheek.
When you opened the door, the world rushed back in, but I felt untouchable, my body still humming from you. You offered me your arm, and I took it, the two of us walking back to the party like we hadn’t just stolen the most delicious, intimate moment. But every time our eyes met, I felt it all over again - what we’d done, what you’d given me, the secret of our stolen moment a delicious thrill that lingered between us, a testament to the passion that binds us.
