Everyone's in The Core, and exclusive, anything-goes nightclub to connect... In every way they want.
But you can't get in without an invite.
Recently-single, coffee-slinging good girl Andee has never been bold enough to party. She's certainly never been to a place like The Core before. With music pounding, go-go dancers grinding, and vodka shooting, Andee lets Alice, The Core's charismatic matchmaker, introduce her to some new friends. She's never been much for one-night-stands, but Alice's friends - and The Core's irresistible, sensual atmosphere - light Andee's hidden passions on fire.
Each story in The Core challenges Andee to step out of her shell, little by little. As she finds friendship with Alice, she learns more about herself with every encounter, leading up to a panty-drenching finish as she carves out a niche - and a new life - for herself within The Core.
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Shaun sets me on my feet and leads me up to the dark corridor beneath the DJ booth. The only light in the space is black fluorescent to highlight the graffiti on the walls, which is so elaborate I couldn’t read it if I tried. The fluorescents make my shirt glow bright, and Shaun’s shirt is so dark he nearly disappears into it.
The song ends and a new beat strikes. Just the drums, at first, and my hips sway side to side with each hit. And then the music joins the rhythm, and I’m dancing again, grinding against Shaun this time.
He’s hard at the same time as smooth, his body toned. I have to crane up when I want to kiss him, and his lips are eager, pulling at mine, his mouth hot. He moves against me, his leg between mine, until I press forward and straddle his thigh as we dance. It’s so sexual, and I’m aroused as hell.
I don’t care that I’ve never done anything like this. Hell, the only one-night-stand I’ve had was my first time in senior year, and it was so quick I didn’t even tell my sister it happened, embarrassed I’d done something wrong. This isn’t quick or careless. This slow, deep dancing is beyond erotic. It mirrors sex, but with a complete stranger. I don’t know Shaun. Right now, I don’t want to know him. I just want to feel him in the way he’s feeling me: exploring something totally new.
I’ve lived by so many rules for so long... go to college, get engaged, be a good girlfriend, don’t be extravagant... that this place of newness is too tempting to resist.
I drop my head back and let the energy of the place course through me. Shaun holds me up while I lose myself in music, in movement, in heat. That second shot of vodka is doing its job well, and Shaun grins at me when I pull up to face him. He’s having as much fun as I am, and I spin around to let him press against my ass. His breath is shallow, washing down over my hair as I let my hands play over his thighs behind me. He leans down to kiss my neck, and it’s so sensitive, but his tongue soothes the tickle, and I let out a laugh.
“You dance like magic,” he says, and I catch a faint whiff of rum on his breath. I lean back and reach up behind myself, stroking my hands over his scalp, scratching lightly along his tousled, dark hair.
“Abracadabra,” I murmur, and then I cringe at my own lack of social finesse.
But Shaun chuckles and runs his hands from my wrists down along the underside of my arms, to my breasts, and just barely grazes them as he moves to settle his hands around my waist. I moan at the sensation. Max always touched me like he was trying to turn on a computer to get a job done. Shaun’s touching me like he wants to touch me. Like the feel of me beneath his hands is the best thing in the world.
Something about this place just magnetizes us, and I press back harder against him, arousal slamming through me when he loses his breath in a low groan.
He spins me around and presses my back against the wall in the corner. I know this isn’t the way most girls meet boys. I know this isn’t what I usually do. But it feels so good that I don’t give a fuck. I lift my heel and hitch my leg around Shaun’s waist, and his hands are on my ass, pulling me against him. Heat spreads between my legs—I’m not sure if it’s mine or his, it doesn’t matter—and I find the zipper of his jeans with my fingertips, tugging it down.
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Nola Sarina and Emily Faith are authors, mothers, and lovers of music and art. Represented by Michelle Johnson of Inklings Literary Agency, they draw inspiration for their fiction from Nola's dark fantasy concepts and Emily's flair for romance that ignites both in and out of the bedroom. Learn more and sign up for the email contact list for up-to-date info on appearances, new releases, and special offers at www.nolasarina.com/contact/. They also love to be stalked on Twitter @NolaSarina and @EmilyFaith2012.
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