The bass pulsed, a relentless thrum against Luna's ribs, vibrating through the floorboards of the exclusive club. Bodies swayed, a kaleidoscope of silk and sweat under the strobing lights. Victor, oblivious, leaned against the bar, a half-empty glass of amber liquid cradled in his hand, his eyes scanning the crowd with an air of bored dominion. He was a predator in his own domain, but tonight, he was the prey.
Luna moved through the throng, a scarlet dress clinging to her curves, a wig of platinum blonde hair framing a face expertly made up to be both alluring and forgettable.
She caught his gaze, a fleeting, practiced smile playing on her lips before she turned, a subtle invitation in the swing of her hips. He took the bait, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face as he pushed off the bar, a shark spotting its next meal.
He reached her side, his scent – expensive cologne and a faint shar0 tang of power – filling her nostrils.
"Lost, little bird?" His voice, a low rumble, barely cut through the music.
Luna turned, her eyes, dark and glittering, met his. "Searching for something more exciting than this stale air." She gestured vaguely at the swirling mass of dancers.
A chuckle escaped his throat, a deep, satisfied sound. "And what might that be?"
"A dance." She extended a hand, her fingers slender, nails painted a deep crimson. "Unless you're afraid to get your shoes scuffed."
Victor's eyes narrowed, a glint of challenge there, then he took her hand. His palm was warm, calloused, a firm grip that spoke of a man used to taking control. He led her onto the dance floor, pulling her close, the rhythm of the music enveloping them.
They moved, a seamless blend of practiced steps and raw, animalistic energy. Luna let her body press against his, her hips swaying, a deliberate friction that sent a jolt through him. She saw his jaw clench, his eyes darken, a hunger igniting within them. He pulled her closer still, his hand settling low on her back, guiding her movements.
The music shifted, a slower, more sensual beat. She leaned in, her lips almost brushing his ear, the warm breath escaping her mouth a whisper against his skin. "This is fun," she murmured, her voice a low purr. "But I can think of something even better."
He pulled back slightly, his brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "This is already fun, sweetheart."
Her smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "No. I want sex."
A slow, delighted smile spread across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Fuck." The word was a guttural exhalation, a promise.
Luna's fingers, light as feathers, traced the line of his jaw, then dipped to the collar of his expensive shirt. Her touch was electric, a subtle spark that sent shivers down his spine. "Hmm?"
His gaze, hot and possessive, devoured her. "Why not." He pulled her into a tight embrace, his hands sliding down her back, cupping her ass. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, lifting her slightly, a low groan rumbling in his chest. "Oh, shit."
A soft, throaty laugh escaped Luna's lips. She let her fingers intertwine with his, her grip gentle as she began to move, subtly pulling him towards the exit. He followed, a willing captive, his eyes fixed on her, a drunken haze beginning to cloud his judgment.
The club's cacophony faded as they navigated the opulent hallways, the plush carpet muffling their footsteps.
They reached the door to his private suite. Luna's hand, slick with anticipation, found the metal of the doorknob, twisting it open.
The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of recessed lights, a lavish space designed for indulgence. As they stepped inside, Luna released his hand, her fingers finding the silk knot of his tie.
She tugged, pulling him forward, her mouth crashing against his.
His lips were soft, eager, tasting of whiskey and desire. Their mouths melded, a feverish exploration, tongues dancing and intertwining.
He groaned, a deep, primal sound that vibrated against her lips. Her fingers worked quickly, loosening his tie, then moving to the buttons of his shirt. He responded with equal fervor, his hands fumbling with the zipper of her dress. Fabric rustled, whispered promises of skin against skin. His shirt fell to the floor, followed by his jacket. Luna's dress, a cascade of scarlet silk, pooled around her feet, revealing the delicate lace of her lingerie.
He broke the kiss, his eyes devouring her, a hungry glint in their depths. He reached for her, his hands finding her waist, lifting her effortlessly. Luna's legs wrapped around his hips, her thighs clamping around his waist, her arms circling his neck. His hands, strong and possessive, cupped her ass, squeezing the soft mounds as he deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth, a hot, wet invasion. He kissed her neck, her jaw, trailing a path of fire down her throat. A soft moan escaped Luna's lips, a sound she manufactured with practiced ease, letting it echo in the quiet room.
He moved towards the bed, a massive expanse of white linen and plump pillows, carrying her as if she weighed nothing.He laid her down gently, their lips still locked, their bodies never breaking contact.
As she lay splayed on the cool sheets, he pulled back, standing over her, a magnificent, naked form. His eyes, dark with lust, roamed over her, lingering on the peaks of her breasts, the curve of her stomach, the dark triangle between her legs.
He reached down, cupping her right leg, lifting it. He began to kiss her inner thigh, his lips hot against her skin, his tongue flicking out, sending shivers through her. He worked his way up, his breath warm on her, reaching higher and higher. Luna chuckled, a breathy, flirtatious sound. "Stop, you're tickling me."
He looked up, a playful glint in his eyes, his voice a low growl. "Am I?" He nipped playfully at her inner thigh.
Her laughter, light and airy, filled the room. He leaned down, his mouth reconnecting with hers, a deep, hungry kiss that stole her breath. His body was a hard, muscled presence against hers, his cock, thick and rigid, pressed against her wet pussy.
He groaned, a sound of pure male pleasure, and in that moment, Luna seized her opportunity.
She shifted, a swift, fluid movement, rolling him onto his back. He landed with a soft thump on the mattress, his eyes wide with surprise, a stunned grin on his face. Luna straddled him, her knees bracketing his hips, her pussy hovering just above his throbbing cock. She looked down at him, her eyes dark, a predatory gleam in their depths.
"Let me do it." Her voice was a husky whisper, a promise of exquisite torment.
He nodded, breathless, his hands reaching for her hips. She moved slowly, deliberately, guiding his rigid cock to her slick opening.
The head, thick and engorged, pushed against her wet folds, a delicious friction. She lowered herself, inch by excruciating inch, the smooth, hot shaft sliding into her. A gasp escaped her lips, a genuine one this time, as he filled her completely, a perfect, snug fit.
She began to move, a slow, deliberate rocking motion, grinding her hips against his, milking every inch of him. He groaned, his eyes closing, his head tilting back, a blissful expression on his face.
The rhythmic schlick-schlick of their bodies joining filled the room, punctuated by his ragged breaths. Luna arched her back, her head thrown back, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, a low moan escaping her lips. She picked up the pace, her movements becoming more urgent, more demanding.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
A sudden, deafening BOOM ripped through the room, shaking the very foundations of the building. Victor's eyes snapped open, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through him, shattering the haze of pleasure. He looked at Luna, confusion warring with arousal on his face.
"What the fuck was that?" he managed, his voice hoarse.
Luna's lips curved into a chilling smile, devoid of any warmth. "That, my dear Victor, was for you." Another laugh, this one cold and brittle, escaped her. She reached behind her back, her fingers closing around the cool, metallic grip of a silenced pistol she'd taped to her spine beneath the lingerie. In one fluid motion, she pulled it free, the black barrel glinting ominously in the dim light.
"Fuck you," she stated, her voice flat, emotionless.
She pulled the trigger. The shot was a muffled thwip, almost swallowed by the lingering echo of the explosion. Victor's eyes, wide with disbelief and dawning horror, stared up at her for a fleeting instant before his head snapped back, a crimson spray erupting from the exit wound. His body went slack beneath her, a sudden, heavy weight, his cock still buried deep inside her, now soft and flaccid.
He didn't even notice the gun while he was fucking kissing. Fucking disgusting.
Luna slid off his lifeless body, a shudder of revulsion running through her. She stood, her bare feet pressing into the plush carpet, and quickly, efficiently, began to dress. Her hands moved with practiced speed, pulling on a pair of dark combat pants, a tactical shirt, and sturdy boots. She stripped off the platinum wig, revealing a close-cropped, dark pixie cut. The elaborate makeup came off with a pre-moistened wipe, revealing a sharp, unadorned face. A plain black baseball cap was pulled low over her eyes.
From outside, the sounds of chaos grew louder – distant sirens, panicked screams, the frantic pounding of feet. She moved to the window, peering through the gap in the heavy curtains. Below, the street was a maelstrom of flashing lights and fleeing figures.
She slipped out of the suite, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving Victor's body and the lingering stench of sex and death behind. She joined the tide of terrified people streaming out of the building, a ghost in the panicked crowd, just another face in the blur of fear.