Too Much : Chapter 4

DANCE WITH ME, OMORFIÁ.

What a stupid fucking thing to say. I should’ve known better. I’ve felt the unexplainable pull toward Thalia all evening, so I should’ve known asking her to dance would be the equivalent of poking an ant hill with a stick.

The way her body fits pressed against mine, the intoxicating, disorienting, fucking exhilarating smell of plums, peaches, and some sweet flower in her perfume… it’s too intense. This entire evening is too fucking intense.

Thalia monopolized my attention since she set foot in Tortugo. Neither her big rack nor curvy body caught my eye first… her thick curls did. I never saw curls tighter than hers. She has so much hair I’d struggle to grasp it in one hand. Her body is a sight to behold and as if that’s not enough, she’s confident, sensible, and funny in her own special way: weird, sarcastic, and a little inappropriate, but I’m here for it.

Thalia sways her wide hips as we dance, twirling around to flash me a dazzling smile, her moves every fucking bit seductive. The music has changed five times since we stepped onto the illuminated dance floor, but I can’t bring myself to take her back to the booth.

I hold her hand, watching her twirl around my finger. Every man within eyesight stares, with unrestrained lust burning in their eyes. They seek her out. Some even stop moving, unable to rip their gaze away from her perfect face. No wonder. She’s beautiful—a powerful magnet drawing attention, commanding the room. My arms circle her waist, my hold almost possessive, sculpted with one goal in mind, to convey a message: she’s with me, so back the fuck off.

Thalia weaves her fingers through my hair, grasping onto a thick tangle. She caresses the nape of my neck with her other hand, electrifying every nerve ending in my body.

“You need a break,” I say, my chest tight. “I need a break.”

I’m far off reaching the out-of-breath mark, but holding her this close, wrapped protectively in my arms, makes me want to rip her clothes off. In a convoluted, senseless way, I also don’t want to do that. She’s too much fun to fuck and forget.

She spins on her stiletto heel, taking my hand in hers, and laces our fingers as if she’s done it a thousand times before. The shiver, that gesture introduces doesn’t just glide down my spine; it sinks deep into my fucking bones. We push through the crowd, me as her overgrown shadow, glaring at anyone sporting big-enough pair of balls to steal a glance at her.

Her golden skin glistens under the halogen lights testing my resolve when she rests her elbows on the counter. The smooth curve of her neck glints with a mist of sweat, begging for attention. Add the sweet scent of her perfume to the equation, and I’m barely stopping myself from dipping my head and tracing a line of open-mouthed kisses up to her ear. I wouldn’t stop there. More kisses would come, higher, lower… everywhere.

“Caipirinha?” I frame her with my arms, clutching the bar, my fingers digging into the hardwood. “And a glass of lemonade, so you don’t dehydrate.”

She nods, brushing her cheek over her shoulder. She breathes fast, in short bursts, her chest rising and falling, accentuating her big breasts and elevating my struggle. What ’I wouldn’t give to bury my face in the valley between those juicy boobs.

Twenty minutes with her body pressed against mine, her smiles, dark eyes, and small hands tracing the muscles on my chest, and I already know she’ll be the hardest obsession to shake. Especially since I don’t plan on making a move.

A night with her would be quite the experience, but the cock-blocker in my head tells me it would also be such a fucking waste of a perfectly fun friend.

We’re back in the booth ten minutes later, drinks in hand. No lemonade, though. Thalia drank half, then made me drink the rest. Sharing a glass, pressing my lips against the rim in the same spot her lips were seconds earlier… that was intimate.

We’re intimate.

This whole fucking evening is way too intimate, period.

Nico and MJ are the only two at the table, but not much talking is going on. She’s tipsy now, openly swooning at my younger brother like ninety-nine percent of women, but regardless of how attractive or fuckable she is, Nico won’t touch her. He’s picky, to put it mildly. He has a very specific type of woman he looks at twice, and MJ doesn’t quite hit the mark.

Thalia and I don’t exist outside our small bubble for the next hour. It’s just us in the middle of a crowded room. We dance, taking short breaks until shortly after one in the morning when she calls it a night to recharge her batteries before starting work at seven.

Too damn bad. I’ve not had this much fun in a long time…

◆◆◆

When I crawl into bed later, it’s with a smile. Never have I enjoyed just talking to a girl, but talking to Thalia is effortless. No awkward silences, no uncomfortable- what the hell do I say now?

My initial hard-on ’hasn’t subsided, but I’m glad I held myself off, reined in my desire and didn’t try to fuck her tonight.

It wasn’t easy, though.

Some women possess a rare, peculiar ability to bring a man to his knees within seconds, without using any seductive techniques. Thalia is one of those mysterious creatures.

I’ve considered the phenomenon for years, watching my friends lose their shit for women after one evening. Sometimes sooner. My theory is simple: chemistry. Women emit pheromones at different strengths and levels. Those who effortlessly melt our brains emit more potent pheromones.

That must be it.

How else will you explain the instant attraction? The world is filled with beautiful girls, but a nice face is not enough to arouse a man to the point of a fucking fever. Especially without physical contact.

I was rock hard when I approached Thalia at the bar. It really must be chemistry at work. She hadn’t even looked at me at that point, but I got a whiff of her perfume, saw her smooth skin bathed in LED lights and hocus-pocus, presto chango, fucking alakazam… the switch in my head responsible for sexual fantasies flipped, filling my mind with erotic images.

I did well shutting them off. Getting my cock wet is not an issue, but friends don’t stumble into my life every day.