BLACK (Joseph Tate, Emmerdale fanfic)

'club heart'

'Club Heart' was bathed in red and blue spotlights as the bass pulsed through Bree Swanson's body. She glanced around her favourite hunting ground and lifted the cocktail to her mouth, glossy red lips curling around the small straw and immediately felt someone watching her. Smirking, she repeated her action, making sure to emphasise her movements more seductively. She had always held a power over men, and was always impressed with how many she could attract. Bree was by no means easy, despite her flirtatious ways, most of the numbers she garnered were deleted from her mobile phone. She went to such lengths to get the full attention of her audience, but in the end she only received satisfaction from making a man absolutely intoxicated with her.

Her mind shifted back to the current male trying to get her attention. Looking over her shoulder, her long brown hair falling in a curve across one eye, she blatantly stared back at him. He was around her age, mid-twenties; which was interesting, because usually Bree was only attracted to older men. But this particular one captivated her almost immediately and for a moment she could only hold his gaze, equally as spellbound as he seemed to be with her. Although he was sitting she could see he was tall, long bodied. Toned. He was dressed in all black, but on him it was more than just a colour. There was an aura of dangerous energy around him that only further piqued her interest. Her gaze came down to rest briefly on his hips and the tight-fitting shirt tucked neatly into the waistband of expensive pants. Slowly, her gaze drifted upwards over his shoulders and chest, noticing the top three buttons of his shirt were undone. As she continued to stare he continued to observe her with an almost devilish glint in his eyes. It didn't seem to bother her that he had caught her checking him out. Besides, he and his perfect hair were probably used to all the attention. He was devastatingly handsome, boyishly charming, albeit he had a slight air of arrogance about him. He was important, and he knew it. Neatly groomed facial hair, strong jaw. Proud chin. But it was his eyes, blue, piercing, (she was a sucker for eyes) that really captivated her, hypnotizing her, and had her biting gently down on her lower lip.

Watching him Bree felt something she had never felt before - the inner desire to make him hers; and not just for one night.

The stranger's rakish smile came slowly and it almost dazzled her, and she held her breath, watching as he swung himself up out of his seat, mentally preparing herself for his arrival.

But it never came.

Confused, Bree twisted in her seat and spotted him entering the dance floor to move up behind a pretty blonde amongst the sea of gyrating bodies, and from what she could see he was wasting no time moving into her personal space.

Player, she thought bitterly to herself.

It was ironic she should feel this way, considering she used the exact same tactics he was currently using to drive men wild - but they had never been used upon her.

Thinking about it in an optimistic light, she smirked, realising she could use this to her advantage. She finished off her drink and rose to meet her challenger. It had been a long time since she had truly worked for her satisfaction, and wondered (hoped) more enjoyment would come from it tonight.

Stepping onto the dance floor, Bree glided through the hot, sweaty bodies until she brushed passed the object of her attention. It had been the briefest of touches, goading him the way a cat did a mouse; but she was spun round, a strong grip pulling her back. The sudden contact alarmed her and her eyes went to his. He seemed pleased that he had startled her. He was the cat once more. Then he pulled her into him, against his chest.

"I know what you're up to," he told her. She liked his voice. Polite, well-bred. His arms circled her, preventing an escape, his hands on the small of her back burned, sizzled, and sent a wave of heat skittering through her body. "I know your type."