Erotic Fiction: Velvet and Smoke

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The jazz band’s sultry tune snaked through the smoke-filled room, the trumpets wailing like they were pouring secrets into the night. Cigarette haze curled around low-lit chandeliers, and everywhere, the glittering crowd danced like the world might end before sunrise. It was the kind of night where everything felt possible, especially in a speakeasy like this—where forbidden pleasures were currency, and the password to get in was only the beginning of the adventure.

I sat in the shadows, sipping gin, my lips tingling from the sharp bite of it. The cold glass in my hand felt like the only anchor in a room swirling with heat and lust. Then I saw her.

She was leaning against the bar, an emerald green dress clinging to her body like it had been poured over her skin. Beads shimmered with every movement, catching the dim light, her curves exaggerated with each subtle shift. Her dark hair was slicked close to her head, a bob of soft waves framing her jaw. And those lips—painted deep red—parted as if she was already tasting the thrill of the night.

I couldn’t look away. She didn’t want me to.

She caught me watching, and her eyes—dark, smouldering—met mine across the crowded room. A slow smile curved her mouth, dangerous and deliberate, the kind that made me forget how to breathe. She lifted her glass in a silent toast, then sipped, her gaze never leaving mine.

I wasn’t sure who moved first. Maybe I did, maybe she did. But suddenly, she was there, standing in front of me, close enough that the scent of jasmine and smoke filled the air between us. Her voice was smooth, like velvet dipped in whiskey.

“Been eyeing me all night, haven’t you, doll?” she said, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Couldn’t help myself,” I murmured, forcing my voice steady. “Hard not to stare when a dish like you walks in.”

She chuckled low in her throat, the sound sending a thrill through me. “Glad to know I’ve still got it,” she teased, but her eyes glittered with something deeper—hunger. “You got a name, or am I just calling you ‘trouble’ tonight?”

“Lily,” I answered, watching her carefully.

“Lily,” she repeated, tasting my name on her tongue like it was a decadent treat. She leaned in, her lips a breath away from my ear. “Call me Ruby.”

Her hand slid into mine, fingers cool and soft, and without another word, she pulled me through the crowd, past the thrumming bodies, until we were swallowed by shadow. We slipped behind a heavy velvet curtain into a quiet alcove, the noise of the speakeasy dimming to a murmur.

In the flickering candlelight, her eyes glittered with wicked intent. She pressed me back against the wall, the cool plaster contrasting with the heat that radiated between us. Her hands braced on either side of me, caging me in, and I should’ve felt trapped. But I didn’t. I felt free.

Ruby’s lips hovered inches from mine, her breath hot and sweet against my skin. “I’ve been watching you too, Lily,” she whispered. “You’ve got a way about you.”

“What way is that?” I asked, voice shaky but full of anticipation.

Her lips brushed against mine, a ghost of a touch, before she answered, “The kind that makes a girl want to misbehave.”

And then she kissed me.

Her mouth was hot, tasting of gin and something sweeter, like cherries. The kiss wasn’t soft or tentative. It was fierce, ravenous, like she was claiming me. Her tongue slid into my mouth, velvety smooth, exploring, tasting, teasing. I moaned into her, the sound swallowed by the press of her lips, the swirl of her tongue as it danced with mine.

Her hands roamed over my body, fingers tracing the lines of my waist, gripping my hips, pulling me closer. My body melted into hers, arching to meet every touch, every caress. Her fingers slipped under the straps of my dress, sliding them down my arms, the fabric pooling at my waist as she bared my shoulders to the cool air.

Her mouth left mine, trailing kisses along my jaw, down the column of my neck. Her teeth grazed my skin, and I shuddered, gripping her shoulders. “Ruby,” I breathed, the name a prayer and a plea.

Her tongue flicked against the hollow of my throat, warm and wet, sending shivers skittering down my spine. “You taste like trouble,” she murmured, her voice husky with desire.

“You’re the one leading me astray,” I teased, though my voice was breathless, needy.

She pulled back, just enough to meet my eyes, her pupils blown wide with lust. “And you love every second of it.”

I did. God, I did.

Her hands found the hem of my dress, pushing it higher, fingers sliding up my thighs, her touch searing against my skin. Every inch she explored sent fire racing through my veins. I tugged at the back of her dress, desperate to feel more, to touch more. The beads of her gown shimmered under my fingertips, smooth and cool, contrasting with the heat of her body beneath.

Ruby kissed me again, slower this time, relishing in the way our mouths fit together, the way our tongues met in a rhythm as old as time. Her kiss was everything—soft and fierce, sweet and demanding. It left me breathless, trembling, aching for more. Her kiss deepened, turning slow and languid, her tongue slipping into my mouth like warm silk. Ruby explored me with deliberate grace, tracing the seam of my lips before sliding in to tease and taste. She moved in slow, sensual strokes, her tongue curling against mine, coaxing me to respond.

It was a dance, a deliberate push and pull. She flicked the tip of her tongue against mine, soft and playful, before sweeping it along the roof of my mouth, drawing out a shiver that raced down my spine. Her tongue caressed, coaxed, and tangled, warm and wet, her movements unhurried yet demanding.

She sucked lightly on my bottom lip before diving back in, her tongue curling with mine, tasting every corner of my mouth, as if she wanted to consume me entirely. Each stroke felt like a slow burn, igniting something deep inside me, making me forget where I ended and she began.

Ruby’s tongue wasn’t just kissing me—it was claiming me, leaving me breathless, trembling, and utterly undone.

She pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, “I want to ruin you, darling.”

I grinned, my hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. “Then what are you waiting for?”

In that dark, hidden corner of the speakeasy, we became nothing but heat, desire, and reckless abandon. And the rest of the world? It melted away.