After the Last Dance by Manning Sarra

away. ‘I don’t feel like I’m going to be sick any more,’ she said. ‘Now I feel quite giddy. You make everything so much fun. I haven’t had any fun in the longest time.’
    â€˜Not even with Mr Ex?’ he asked, his leg knocking against hers until she put her hand on his knee to still him.
    â€˜Don’t get me wrong, darling, he has lots of admirable qualities, but knowing how to have fun isn’t one of them. Not like you. You’re very good at having fun.’
    â€˜I’m good at all sorts of things,’ he said and he deliberately lowered his voice, made it as dark and insinuating as he could and Jane couldn’t quite arch an eyebrow, not with the Botox, but she could still feign surprise.
    â€˜Oh, my! What sort of things?’
    Leo moved in close enough to see that her complexion was soft and flawless like vellum, and so was the upper curve of her breasts. He was horny as well as high and all he could think about was what it would feel like to unhook her dress and shape the soft weight of them. Just had to be certain Jane was on the same page. ‘I’m the sort of man your mother warned you about.’
    Her laugh was a gorgeous, throaty, plughole gurgle. ‘Somehow, I doubt that.’
    â€˜You’d better believe it,’ he said and he lowered his head and pressed his lips along her collarbone, her perfume faded and powdery now but he could still smell the lingering scent of blackcurrants. He reached the corner of her mouth and her breath hitched and that was his cue to pull away.
    Leo knew this game of old. Advance, retreat. Advance, retreat. Let them get used to it, like it, start to want it, withdraw. Make them panic that you were going to leave them high and dry, then press your advantage home.
    So, as a porter took them to their room, an upgraded presidential suite, Leo danced Jane around the elevator and down a long, long corridor, halting every now and again so he could lean into her and kiss her cheekbone, her ear, her shoulder. Each time, Jane would giggle, then the giggle would become a sigh because he’d stopped. Then he’d take her back in his arms and the dance could start again.
    When they came to their suite, at the very end of the corridor, the porter opened the door, ushered them inside and put down Jane’s case. Then Leo took Jane’s handbag, which was stuffed full of hundred-dollar bills, and gave one to the porter, who left them with a wink and a knowing look.
    â€˜I think there’s a special hell reserved for people who don’t tip well,’ Jane said approvingly.
    â€˜See, I told you I was good at lots of things,’ Leo said and she was standing by the door, looking maybe a little uncertain and unsure. She breathed in and exhaled, which did wonderful things to her already wonderful breasts.
    Leo danced towards her with a little quickstep that even Gene Kelly would have been proud of. She didn’t resist when he wrapped his arm round her waist and danced her the few steps that had her pressed up against a wall.
    Leo didn’t even have to think of his next moves, because he
was
good at this. He always got the girl, even if he didn’t want to keep her afterwards. He peppered kisses along her shoulder, lifted up her arm and kissed her there where her skin was so soft.
    â€˜You’re scratchy,’ she murmured and he kissed her better. Kissed her neck, nuzzled against her pulse point, which was beating out its own frantic little rhythm, along her jaw, to her mouth, which curved into a tiny smile.
    Jane was breathing heavier now. Her lips parted and he stopped. Body still pressed against her, but he wasn’t kissing her any more and she pouted.
    â€˜You’re so beautiful,’ he said and for once, it wasn’t just a line. ‘I know I keep saying it, but you are and I want you so badly. I’m hard just looking at you.’
    â€˜Are you, darling?’ She bit her