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“You look marvelous, darling,” he says, his eyes breezing over your body from head to toe and back up, pausing briefly at your chest. “I might have to excuse myself if I stare at you for too long.”

You stammer a thank you and he laughs breathily. “I would keep you company if you had to,” you say, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. A sly smile tugs at one side of his mouth. He clears his throat and takes an extra large swig of his champagne. He pardons himself, setting the now empty flute on the bar behind him. 

“Care to follow through on your offer?” he asks, pulling you into his arms. You are suddenly aware of every place on your body that is in contact with his, the full length of him pressed against you. Your chest on his, his thigh brushing yours, the large hand resting on your lower back, just waiting to drop lower and give your ass a pleasant squeeze.

You grab onto his tie, high up near the knot, and pull him lower as you crane your neck to whisper to him, “Anything for you, my love,” and leave his ear with a lick. He exhales with a deep growl, spinning you around so that you are able to walk slightly in front of him. You feel his growing hard on bump into your ass as you maneuver through the crowd and out to the balcony.

It’s empty except for another couple at the other end, but they are far enough away and drunk enough not to care when Tom pulls you into the corner and claims your mouth with his. His tongue meets with yours as you simultaneous deepen the kiss. You can taste the faint sweetness of champagne as you trace his teeth and explore his mouth.

His hands are on your back, keeping you close while yours are around his neck, caressing the back of his head, and coming down to rub his chest. He brings one hand up to your hair, gripping it tight and making a fist. It sends a chill through you and goosebumps raise on your skin, your nipples hardening, as he tugs at the roots.

You break the kiss and try to push him, backing him up until he is pinned to the wall behind. His hands find your ass and pull you tight against the rock hard bulge in his trousers. You grind against him, drawing out a raspy moan that hits you right in the core.

“I want to fuck you so hard,” you say, as he kisses along your jaw.

“Do it,” he answers. His words are strong and demanding, punctuated with a rough thrust of his hips. You’re control is wavering as he humps against you, and you’re certain if you don’t stop soon, you’ll come just from the thought of having him inside of you.

“Take me home and I will.”

He stops his torture on your neck and looks up, his eyes lust-laden and dark. “I don’t think I can wait that long,” he says, and moves his lips to yours again. You open up to his tongue and feel his thigh slipping between your legs, instinctively you rub against him. He slips one hand down to the hem of your dress, lifting it just enough to brush his long fingers over you. He pushes your panties aside and shoves his fingers into you, not surprised to find that you are drenched and throbbing. Aching for him.

 ”I hope you can keep quiet, my dear, because I’m about to be your undoing.” The timbre of his voice is dangerous and deep as he curls his fingers, a shockwave of pleasure tearing through you.

Oh god.

Jesus Christ on a CRUTCH.