Chapter 230: Shots in the Night
The heavy bass of Velvet Pulse hit them like a living thing the moment they stepped inside.
The club was alive, pulsing neon lights in deep purples, electric blues, and hot reds swept across the crowded dance floor, reflecting off mirrored walls and crystal chandeliers.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, sweat, and sweet cocktails. Bodies moved in sync to the thumping EDM, laughter and shouts cutting through the music.
VIP sections lined the upper level, but Stan guided Mia straight into the energetic heart of the main floor, his hand firm on the small of her back, fingers brushing the bare skin exposed by her crimson dress.
For the first hour, they lost themselves in the fun. Mia’s eyes sparkled with unrestrained joy as she danced, her insane curves on full display. The short, tight dress clung to every inch of her, her massive, heavy breasts bouncing and jiggling with each movement, the plunging neckline offering hypnotic glimpses of deep cleavage.
Her wide hips and thick thighs swayed seductively, the hem riding dangerously high as she twirled and laughed. Stan stayed close, his hands occasionally finding her waist, guiding her through the crowd. They shouted playful comments over the music, reminiscing and teasing.
"You’re actually a good dancer!" Mia yelled, grinning as she pressed closer during a slower drop in the beat. "Who taught you this? Some fancy city girl?"
Stan laughed, pulling her in by the hips so their bodies brushed. "Just practice. But none of them move like you, Mia. You’re glowing tonight."
Her cheeks flushed with happiness, the pronounced emotion clear in her shining eyes, pure delight mixed with deep, yearning affection. Being here with him, after nine years, felt like every quiet prayer answered.
Then the DJ shifted the vibe. The music dropped into a heavy, gritty rock track, driving guitars, pounding drums, raw energy that demanded movement. Around them, couples and groups started rocking harder. Girls ground back against their guys, bodies rolling with the rhythm, hands roaming freely.
Mia’s face flushed a deep crimson upon seeing that. She was a bit shy, but seeing couples dance; girls rocking their man awakened something in her heart.
She bit her lip, glancing at Stan with a mix of shyness and bold excitement.
Then, with a determined breath, she turned in his arms and began rocking against him, pressing her plush, round ass back into his groin, rolling her hips in time with the aggressive beat. Her thick thighs flexed, the short dress riding up further as she moved.
The soft, heavy weight of her breasts swayed and bounced with each rock, straining against the thin fabric. She reached back, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on her waist, encouraging him to hold her closer.
Stan was surprised, a jolt of heat and hesitation hitting him at once. This was Mia. His childhood playmate, the crybaby he used to push on swings and share stolen cookies with. A part of him still felt that invisible line drawn by their innocent friendship, a boundary he hadn’t planned to cross.
Grinding and getting close like this with other women came naturally, but with her it felt... different. Weighted. Almost taboo.
Yet watching her, feeling how enthusiastically she moved against him, how much pure fun and freedom she was experiencing, melted his reservations. Her 110 favourability burned in the back of his mind.
She was into this, completely lost in the moment with him.
The way her body melted back against his chest, the soft tremble of excitement in her frame, the happy little sounds she made under the music, it all told him she wanted this closeness. Needed it.
He decided to flow with her.
Stan’s hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements, pulling her firmer against him as he matched her rhythm. Their bodies moved in sync, sensual, heated, yet laced with genuine joy.
Mia glanced over her shoulder at him, her wavy hair tousled, lips parted in breathless laughter and desire.
"Like this?" she asked, voice husky over the music.
"Just like that," Stan murmured close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "You’re killing it, Mia. Having fun?"
"So much," she breathed, pressing back harder, her ass grinding in slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks through both of them. "With you... it feels perfect."
The rock track fueled them for several songs. Sweat glistened on Mia’s cleavage, making her skin glow under the lights.
Stan’s hands explored more boldly, sliding up her sides, feeling the curve of her waist and the heavy bounce of her breasts as she rocked.
The emotional intensity built: her trust, her long-suppressed feelings pouring out through every movement; his protective affection deepening with every laugh and press of her body.
Eventually, Mia slowed, breathless and flushed. She turned in his arms, resting her forehead against his chest for a moment.
"I’m... a little tired," she admitted with a shy laugh, though her eyes still danced with happiness.
Stan immediately guided her toward a quieter VIP booth, flagging down a server. "Water for her, please. Cold."
He got himself a strong whiskey on the rocks.
Mia sipped the water gratefully, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Then she looked at his glass with curious, slightly glazed eyes. "What are you drinking?"
"I’m good, figured this would do," Stan said casually.
"I want to try what you’re drinking," she declared, reaching for it with a playful, insistent smile.
Stan hesitated, stunned for a second. "Don’t drink too much, Mia. It’s alcoholic, pretty strong."
She nodded eagerly and took a sip anyway. Her face immediately scrunched up adorably at the burn, nose wrinkling. "Ugh... it’s bitter! But... kinda warm after."
She went for another sip, but Stan gently took the glass back.
"Easy, crybaby. Pace yourself."
Before she could respond, a sharp series of gunshots cracked through the night, loud, unmistakable, right outside the club entrance.
’What the fuck?’ Stan’s mind snapped into high alert. ’Are they trying to rob this place?’
