Summary: It was a game to him. Pushing her to the very brink- physically and emotionally- only to stop before the climax. It was disgusting, but she was hooked.

Warning: M for sexuality, language, some drug use and violence.

It was the third night.

Third night in a row he was there, watching, a beer between his lips and blue eyes standing out from that plastic, black Mardi Gras mask tied behind layers of light hair. The third night she was in this carved out hole in the wall. A pulsing beacon in the black Baton Rouge night. The meeting of bodies pushed together by lack of space, alcohol, and ambience that screamed at you to touch one another.

Sweat had long ago formed on her body. A particularly sultry sound grasped at her soul and pulled to her lower regions. She threw her head back at the sound, eyes closed and hands pushing back sweat and hair from her forehead. She ignored how long it took to make her hair into perfection, and instead reveled in the feel of it curling up and matting in her fingertips. There was something so natural about being a mess. About bumping hips with strangers, having her entire body a flame, clothes barely hanging on and looking so deliciously dirty. She felt a cavewoman ready to hunt lions and be fucked by her caveman husband after the hunt.

A red strap fell from her shoulders unnoticed. A nipple might have came free, but fingers were there in an instant, dragging up the silk material. It was done by a friend- Lisa- and they exchanged faces of gratitude and understanding before erupting in private laughter that made her blush under dark skin.

There was movement, and her eyes shifted to the now standing man. She struggled not to grin as he stood, displaying his tall frame and gliding through the crowd. Smoke came in waves from patrons. The overhead lights blurred her sight, the whiskey from earlier not helping. Yet through it, he still looked marvelous. Strong, pale, foreign against the drunks surrounding his body. When her eyes finally met his they were inches apart, a few people still blocking their embrace. His light eyes locked on her dark ones, and she swayed while waiting for the inevitable.

An inevitable that never came.

He grabbed another woman's wrist. A woman with perfect skin and near-blond curls that arched into his touch. She pressed into his body with her curvy one, fisted his shirt and gave a look that boiled the beer in his hand. He returned it. And they were dancing- paces, inches away from Savannah.

Savannah released a breathe and frowned at the back of someone's head. From behind, a man grabbed her waist and tried to rock her, noticing that she lost rhythm somewhere along the way. She pushed her back to him. Her head tilted up to rest on the stranger's shoulder. A wooden ceiling, flickering lights dangling by a wire, waves of heat. She wondered what had went wrong in the exchange. She was rarely refused, and for it to be done so… bluntly. Maybe she just read the signals wrong.

The man behind her mistook her closeness for intimacy and began nipping at her neck. She reeled back mainly from shock and looked away. The pale stranger was still there, unbearably close and impressively dipping the girl with one arm while holding his beer in the other.

Savannah had to leave then. She slide through the sweat of dancers and took a gulp of air when she made it outside. The club wasn't much- if you could even call it that. It was a wooden house on stilts in the middle of swamp land. Between the band, the bar and a couple tables, people had barely enough room to breathe, let alone dance. A few stranglers were on the dock with her- throwing up, smoking, talking, taking a break. The interior music was deafening, but if she closed her eyes and focused enough, she could make out the swamp creatures and their quiet languages. She leaned into the wall and let her head hit it.

.

.

She felt the wood shift beneath her feet. The pale stranger stood at the porch edge, oblivious to her presence. Her palms felt sweaty and her pulse picked up speed. Savannah pushed back the feeling and feigned confidence as she sauntered to him.

"Do I know you?" Seriously. She almost slapped herself at her choice of pickup lines. She swore she caught him grin.

"No."

"I swear I've seen you before…"

"I've been here the past few nights."

"Right. The one with the- ", she gestured at her face, "-mask."

His smirk was full on now, and his eyes were glued to her. "Yeah."

It disarmed her. She grinned back, "Wanna dance?"

His face distorted. "This isn't my type of music."

"You just- you danced with that girl-"

"You were watching me?"

She threw her hands up in the air, "You were standing right there! And I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, what's that supposed to mean?"

She must have made a face because he erupted in laughter. He knew damn well that they swapped looks all week. Savannah sighed. His laugh shook the air and made her fluster. But she knew rejection when she saw it- she'd done it to others enough times- and refused to stay a part of it. She started to leave when his voice caught her.

"Maybe another song."

Her pulse spiked. "What do you like?"

"An oldie would be nice. Something slow."

"What, you don't wanna grind with me?" she teased.

"Not with an audience." Savannah felt her heart bursting through her ribcage. Scared to let her eagerness show, she slipped back inside.

.

.

Savannah and her friends had been here enough times to know the DJ on a first-name basis. She tiptoed above his station and exchanged a few words. He'd promised to find something and play it soon. With a thanks she was shoving back toward the bar. Lisa was already there, looking even more tall and beautiful in nightclub attire. Savannah squeezed in next to her and bumped shoulders playfully.

"Savannah!"

"Lisa!"

They quickly ordered shots and clinked rims before devouring them. Warmth rushed down her throat and spread through her body. She visibly shook.

"You alright?"

"Oh yeah," Savannah lowered her voice, "don't wait up for me tonight."

Lisa's eyebrows shot to the roof. "What? Who are you going home with?"

"Oh no one. Just a tall, light stranger."

She rolled her green eyes, "Be careful Savannah."

"Uh huh." She was already tousling her hair and pulling a compact mirror from Lisa's purse. Her entire face was re-done when a hypnotic rhythm vibrated through the wooden club. Some of the party-goers were put off, but Savannah simply smiled. She flung herself in the crowd, much easier done when they were moving to a slower beat.

He was easy to spot, sticking out and all. Their eyes locked and Savannah again pushed down nerves as they inched toward each other. It was slow, deliberate, and nearly painful until they stood with no no one in between. She instinctually turned around, waiting for him to grab her hips and lead. He grabbed her but instead spun her around. His fingers dug into silk as he pressed their bodies together. Savannah ran her hands up his arms, using all her willpower not to stop and grab his muscles. She slid up until her fingers laced behind his neck. His eyes were focused and his grip was hard.

The rhythm flowed freely from her now. Her head swayed and her body followed. She pressed the curves of her breasts into his chest, hoping he felt the hardened peaks. He responded with a hand that lowered, until he caressed the skin of her thighs. His hands were warm and impossibly soft. His fingers inched further up until they were on her inner thigh. She knew he felt the warmth pounding from her sweet spot. A little farther north and he would feel the wetness.

She moaned against the hollow of his neck. The handsome stranger nipped at her earlobe, the hint of desperation barely there.

"You're a wild girl, aren't you?"

Her eyes fluttered shut, "Hmmm…"

In an instant his hands grabbed her chin and jerked her conscious, straight into his light eyes.

"What was that?"

She was put off but the hard display and gaped at him without words. Something his tight grip on her face wouldn't allow.

"Y-Yes."

A lecherous grin spread across his face. "Good. Good girl."

His hand slid down her chin and around her neck. He held no pressure, but the possessiveness was clear. His tongue darted out and lapped at the sweat bead on her collar bone. Not just one of them, but all. Savannah's cheeks flared at the intrusion. The shit had to be salty. Why was he sucking there when directly down her bare breasts were at full attention?

She touched her hands to his chest and pushed a little. A warning. A question in her eyes when he looked up from his task. That grin again and his grabby hands. Savannah stopped him by grabbing his neck and thrusting their lips together. He took control with plump and soft lips. Deliberately slow against her mouth, nipping and pulling and licking at her lips until she was back to moaning. It was too much. She felt on the verge of explosion and rubbed her groin to his knee to alleviate the pressure. He pushed her further into him, rocking her against him with each in and out of his tongue. Her sweet spot was being pressed. In a couple seconds it would be too much, and she would orgasm, violently, in the middle of a dirty swamp club.

But he stopped.

Savannah was pulled back, lips and lower regions still raw. He hesitated at her hooded gaze but stood ground. The song was over, her moment robbed. The stranger placed a wet kiss on her forehead and opened his mouth.

"Sweet dreams sweetheart."

He was retreating by the start of the next song.

.

.

Savannah sloppily got into her roommate's backseat. Lisa was cracking up beside her.

"No luck?"

She pushed her head to the window, trying to drown out in the engine's soft humming.

"I'm drunk enough to fight you."

Lisa laughed until she snorted.

AN: All the thanks in world goes to my beta PeachyLana. Go read her stories on fanfiction! If you like smut and/or good writing, you'll love it.