Heart In A Cage

09

Isabella

It's a struggle to get through all the chaos, because everywhere I go, there's either someone shoving into me or a man using futile cat calls to try and pick me up. Some cute guy steps in my way and offers a drink. I take the beer and leave the guy. I can hear him shouting a few curse words from behind me.

At the bar, I take a seat next to a man in his early 20's―my age.

"You look lonely," I tell him, propping my chin into a palm. "Let's play a game."

He faces me, drink paused before his round lips and defined curls bracketing his cheeks. His eyes don't differ at all from the color of his hair. They're the deepest brown melded with a hint of nightfall and are staring directly back at me.

"What kind of game?" A rich and smooth voice, the tiniest bit husky. He brings his cup down from his lips, eyes exploring my body.

I abandon my drink and hop out of my seat. "Come find out."

Soon, when I dash away and am consumed by a crowd of people dancing and grinding against each other, it feels like the humidity is rising, heat swarming over my burning flesh. A hand crawls onto my hip and another to my waist. We sway with the music, my head thrown back onto the guy's shoulder, our gazes locked on each other's.

"See? Not so lonely anymore." I lean against him, my back and ass uniting with his torso as his deep chuckle excites me.

"I'm surprised a pretty girl like you was alone."

"Hmm." I turn to grip his shoulders. "Not exactly. I came with a businessman that seduced me into living with him."

"What?"

"Yeahhh, and then he made me his employee and fingered me at the register."

"That sounds out of a fantasy story," he laughs, holding my hand and taking me away from the crowd. "You might be dreaming."

I scoff. "You'd think so. Anyway, what's your name? I'm Isabella, and I like you. You don't play with me like I'm a rag doll that's been snatched off the shelf of a children's toy store." Trying to eradicate any thoughts of Andreas, I bring me and the guy around a table and push him onto the leather seat.

He leans forward, looking at my lips covetingly, like all he's thinking of doing is taking them between those shiny white teeth of his. "Well, Isabella, I'm Francis and would love if you could kiss me right now."

No reluctance comes when I bring my lips to his. I smash them together fiercely―because we're in our own bubble, and not even the shouts and music around us can pop it. It's just my mouth and his. It's just our tongues taking turns caressing each other.

Andreas springs into my mind, and I realize that not even he has kissed me yet. He's touched me and played with me and fingered me. He hasn't even kissed me.

I suck myself into the moment and slide over the seat until I'm straddling Francis's lap. Our hands are a messy knot as we throw our arms over each other, bodies combining in a swirl of heat and gropes and heavy breaths.

"I'm going to give you my number," I pant, pulling back from the kiss. He takes a phone out from his pocket and lets me type my number into it. The screen is hard to read over the blinding lights, just a barely decipherable blur of words, but I still manage.

My smile fades as someone by the table coughs―a suggestive cough―and I turn to see Andreas.

"Oops, my boss is here. Make sure to call me." I get off Francis, but not until I grind myself against his hard cock and give one last kiss slow enough to torment Andreas. Francis' lips are curved upwards as I leave.