The nightclub pulsed with energy, the bass vibrating through the floor and up into my chest. Just like the Pretty Ricky track playing softly in the background, “Grind On Me,” the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Tonight felt different.
Across the dimly lit bar, she stood out. A dress that screamed confidence, paired with heels that could stop traffic. For a moment, I simply watched her, captivated. Then, fueled by a shot of liquid courage and the rhythmic beat of the “Grind On Me Song” in my head, I decided to approach.
She turned as I got closer, her eyes flicking over my outfit. There was a coolness in her gaze, a hint of assessing my worth. I knew her type – she was used to a certain kind of attention, the kind that came with a certain kind of wallet. Luckily, tonight, I was feeling generous.
“Hey,” I said, leaning against the bar beside her. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”
Her reply was cool, detached. “Visiting someone,” she murmured, not even bothering to meet my eyes. “And you?”
I smirked, letting my usual charm take over. “Baby, I am from here.” I offered my hand. “I’m Harry.”
“(Y/N),” she finally said, her fingers tracing patterns on the bar top.
“Well, (Y/N),” I leaned in slightly, the “grind on me song” now a silent soundtrack to our interaction, “care to dance?”
—
On the dance floor, the subtle suggestion of “grind on me song” turned into reality. As I pulled her close, her body moved against mine with an immediate heat. “You’re grinding on me real nice,” I murmured into her ear, the words a breathy invitation. “Want to take this somewhere a little more private?”
Back in the hushed intimacy of my hotel room, things escalated quickly. The expensive dress was soon discarded, revealing the delicate lace beneath. Her lips tasted of sweet strawberries as I kissed her, the “grind on me song” ethos now fully embodied in our movements. The lace thong followed the dress to the floor.
My hands explored her body, lingering on the curve of her breasts, reveling in the softness of her skin. I traced every contour, losing myself in the sensation. She was intoxicating.
My tongue followed, dancing along her collarbone, sending shivers through her. Lower, I tasted the salt of her skin, her breath catching in her throat with each touch. By the time I reached her navel, her breathing was ragged, a symphony of desire.
And then, she was grinding on me. Her hips pressed against mine, a primal rhythm taking over. Moans escaped her lips, urging me on. Her hands dug into my back as our movements became more urgent, more demanding. She cried out, her body arching as she reached her peak. I followed close behind, breathless and completely satisfied.
Catching her breath, she looked up at me, a question in her eyes. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
I smiled, the thrill of the night still coursing through me. “You can see me anytime.”
