music takes me, the throbbing bass rhythm carrying me into a
whirlpool of movement; I sway my hips, arms crossed above my head.
I’ve drunk too much but what the hell… I’m having fun. Moving
my ass in time to the beat, I head back to the table and take another
sip of vodka lemon, trying to act like this is what I do every
Saturday night. The drink burns its way down to my belly, stoking my
my bestie and the bride-to-be, grins at me from where she’s
sprawled on the corner sofa of the nightclub. “You ok, my lovely?”
a blast,” I say, giving her a high-five.
here on the party island of Ibiza for her hen weekend… me, my twin
sister Chloe (not drinking as she’s trying for a baby) and Meg’s
sister, Lowri, who’s had more than Meg and I combined. Lowri shoots
me a tipsy look. “You’re such an amazing dancer,” she slurs.
is my exercise of choice, and I love it. I grab her hand and pull her
onto the floor, spinning her around while I shimmy to the sound,
tossing my hair back from my face. “Oh God,” Lowri bleats, and
her face turns green, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
I lead her back to the chair she just vacated. “Put your head
between your knees, sweetie, and I’ll fetch you a glass of water.”
minutes later, I’m back on the dance floor, having left the
recovering Lowri with Meg and Chloe. I’m lost in my own world, a
world of music and movement. All around me, people are caught up in
the buzz of the rave, a mosh-pit of gyrating bodies high on hedonism.
Dutch house bounces off the walls, the floor vibrates beneath my
feet, and lights strobe across the ceiling.
smell him before I see him, a mix of musky male sweat and woody
cologne. He towers over my five foot six frame, broad shoulders, slim
waist, and totally gorgeous. I’m not wearing my glasses, and his
denim-blue eyes clash with mine. He smiles, his teeth flashing white
in a tanned face. “Hola,”
he smirks, and it’s a smirk full of promise. “Cómo
I shout to be heard above the high-volume music.
nod as he steps forward to grasp my hips with strong hands. We sway
together and I feel his hardness pushing against my tummy. My head
tucks under his chin and I breathe him in. It’s been too long since
I felt the pleasure of a sexy man…
need to ask his name. He’s almost certainly a local and I doubt
I’ll meet him again. I’ll just enjoy this for what it is: a brief
encounter. I’m so turned on; I can feel my knickers sticking to me
under my party dress.
hot breath tickles my earlobe as he bends his head to nuzzle my neck.
And then he’s kissing me, his lips warm and filled with lust, his
tongue chasing mine. “Come, princesa,”
he breaks away and tugs on my hand. “Let’s find somewhere
sensible voice in my head tells me not to be stupid. That I don’t
have one-night stands. Never have. Never thought I would. But the
past three years have taken their toll, and I’m fed up with
listening to sensible Beth. Just this once. What harm can it do? I’ll
make sure we use protection…
cool night air is a relief from the sweaty heat of the club. We
stagger through the fire escape door into an alleyway, and he picks
me up like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist; he
presses me against the brick wall under a street light and kisses me
again, harder this time, sucking my lower lip into his mouth before
biting down on it and making me yelp with delight. His hands palm my
needy tits, and I feel my nipples peak. Sweet Jesus, I’m so wet I
could come right now.
he breathes, “you staying on the island long?” His voice is deep
and melodic, but it doesn’t sound Spanish. It sounds… Welsh. No,
that can’t be right. I must be in an alcohol-induced fog.
for the weekend,” I manage to say between panting breaths. I run my
hands over his ripped abs. God, he’s hot. I lean my weight into the
wall and brace myself.
pulls at my knickers, his fingers delving, testing. “Gonna fuck
Is that what you want?”
yes, fuck me, please,” I groan.
reaches into his pocket and withdraws a foil packet, ripping it open
with his teeth.
a shout echoes down the passageway and a skinny young man comes
running up to us. He holds out a cell phone, and gives it to my
Ibizan (as I’ll think of him for the next six months). It’s then
that I notice the tattoo of a scorpion on his hand… it burns its
way into my consciousness like a branding iron, its tail raised ready
to sting. I shiver to myself.
puts me down and holds the phone to his ear, his blue eyes meeting
mine. “I’m sorry, Beth. There’s been some trouble at home.” A
pause. “Really nice meeting you, but I have to go.” He kisses me
briefly on the forehead, and I notice the regret in his expression.
ok,” I say, even though it isn’t. I was burning up for him. “Hope
you get the trouble sorted.”
too,” he gives a hollow laugh.
watch him stride away from me, and sensible Beth’s voice in my head
tells me I’ve had a lucky escape. Six months later, I learn she
couldn’t have been more wrong.
SC Daiko is a romance junkie who loves writing about strong heroines and hot alpha males. Originally from the UK, she now lives in Italy with her husband and two cats.
Nothing makes her happier than connecting with readers and fellow authors, and she feels it a privilege to be a part of the book world.