He saw her dancing on the floor and decided he had to have her. His midsection lightly brushes her ass, barely covered by the short skirt and whatever underwear she is (or isn't) wearing beneath it. He'd been drawn to her graceful dancing, the innocence with which she carried herself contrasting with the desire she had for a man.
He was a head taller then her, dressed in dark pants, a black button up shirt. He had dark brown hair, and some light stubble on his face as he whispered into her ear, his hand grabbing her hair. "What's your name?" He says, his lips brushing her neck as his hand teases the hem of her skirt.
"Wrong." He says, pulling her head back as he pushes her skirt up to squeeze her ass. "You're mine." And with that, he leans in to kiss her lips possessively, intent on claiming her on the dance floor before taking her to a more private room in the back for even more 'fun'...
He was a head taller then her, dressed in dark pants, a black button up shirt. He had dark brown hair, and some light stubble on his face as he whispered into her ear, his hand grabbing her hair. "What's your name?" He says, his lips brushing her neck as his hand teases the hem of her skirt.
"Wrong." He says, pulling her head back as he pushes her skirt up to squeeze her ass. "You're mine." And with that, he leans in to kiss her lips possessively, intent on claiming her on the dance floor before taking her to a more private room in the back for even more 'fun'...