I’m staring at her. I don’t seem to be able to help it. I just can’t keep my eyes off her. I’ve never met anyone quite like her. She’s captivating. She’s wearing a pair of black skinny jeans – designer I can tell by the fit. If I had to guess I’d say Ralph Lauren – with a cobalt blue silk top that flows over her skin. It’s cut in a low v with spaghetti straps that cross over her back. One glance down her legs to her feet tells me her shoes match her top. She’s smiling at her friend and I can’t imagine her any other way – she’s perfect. Her hair is like chocolate rolling in curls down her back. From this distance I can’t tell the colour of her eyes but I know they will be impressive. I feel drawn towards her. Just as I’m about to get up and make my way over to introduce myself she looks down at her empty drink before looking straight at me. I don’t look away. I can’t. She’s caught me staring but I don’t care, I just need a second to come up with a plan; a way to get to know her, an excuse. She looks back to her friend for a moment and I’m afraid that I’ve missed my moment but then she looks back, just a shy glance but it’s enough to tell me she’s interested. I’ve no control over the wide grin that covers my face. Then she’s saying something to her friend and getting to her feet. Considering how much she’s had to drink she’s very steady in those heels; those heels that accentuate her legs and the curve of her hips.
I wait for her to say something when she reaches the bar but she doesn’t. She doesn’t even look at me and I’m disappointed. Perhaps I read her wrong; maybe she wasn’t interested. That doesn’t seem likely. There’s a reason why I’m so successful at what I do; I’m bloody brilliant at reading people. I know when I’ve won them over. I know when they are a lost cause. I know when they are interested and I know when they want to fuck me. She’s close enough that I can smell her. She smells incredible; like some sinfully exotic fruit that’s ripe for the picking. She’s touching me too, barely but it’s enough to send fire through my veins straight to my cock. Her shoulder is gently rubbing against mine. I have to stop myself leaning into the sensation. She’s not even looking at me but I wonder if she’s as affected by me as I am by her. She’s biting her lip as she waits for the bar man. She looks as if she’s barely breathing. She turns her head slightly towards me and opens her mouth as if she’s about to finally say something when the bartender interrupts her. I mentally curse him as she orders her drinks; I’m not accustomed to people getting between me and what I want.
She’s ordering more tequila. Hasn’t she had enough? I’ve been counting how many shots she’s done. I can’t stop myself, I laugh, “You sure like your tequila!”
She looks completely confused by my outburst and I think it might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s interesting because I’ve never really gone for cute before. Usually the women I hook up with are hot, sexy, but never cute. I mean this woman is clearly beautiful but it’s a sweeter beauty than I’m used to. She looks like she’s struggling to find a reply but I’m not left waiting for long. “It’s a new preference.”
“I see,” I lick my lip as I take in every detail of her face, “so before you turned to tequila, what were you?”
“Pardon?” I’ve confused her again. For some reason, I take pleasure in it.
“A gin girl? A vodka girl?”
“Neither; I’ve never been much of a drinker,” I’ve made her blush. God that’s hot. Even as I take in her blush, I carry on the conversation. She tells me she’s never been drunk before and I raise my eyebrow. I know I look surprised. I usually try to control my facial expressions but with her it feels harder; it’s probably because she keeps confounding me. I’m giving more of myself away than ever before and I’m not sure I like it. I prefer to be the one in control of the situation. I lick my lips as I take her in; she’s an enigma. Earlier as I watched her I was sure I had her pegged; pretty, rich, party girl, slightly shy but up for some fun. With my profile of her character in mind I had felt in control. Now that she’s surprised me my grasp on control feels looser. I don’t know what to expect from her and it leaves me feeling off kilter. The barman is back and I tell him to put her drinks on my tab without taking my eyes off of her as she looks through her bag for her purse. I have a permanent tab in this particular bar. It’s a new addition to an old university friend’s chain of restaurants and clubs. I’m barely blinking; I know I must look severe but I feel like I have to take in every detail of her just so I might understand her. People often say that when I’m thinking I look closed off; as if I’m immune to emotion. I’m not. I just try not to let other people see it. In business, I don’t want to give anyone the upper hand and in dating... well let’s say, I prefer it when my dates don’t get close. That’s why I have rules.
She turns back to me, “you don’t have to do that.”
I smirk, “I don’t have to do anything.” I don’t remember the last time I felt obliged to do anything. I only ever do what I want. I tell her to enjoy her drinks because I don’t know what else I can say to her. I’m not used to feeling like this. Usually this is easy for me. Normally I’d have already asked her back to my place and we’d be in my car barely talking as we drove back to mine. She’d be commenting on the interiors of my Lexus as my hand rested on her thigh. But instead she’s thanking me for her drinks and a part of me is scared that she’s about to walk away. The other part of me thinks that might not be a bad idea, she’s not the sort of girl I usually take home. Taking her home would probably break a rule; I’m just not sure which one. That’s not completely accurate; it’s more like how many rules would it break. I’m watching her, still trying to get a grasp of who she is when her friend comes up behind her and makes her jump. I really don’t want her to go with her friend and so I’m delighted when she tells her friend to go and have fun with the blonde guy she’s met.
“Your friend is certainly excitable,” I say as she watches her friend leave with an affectionate look on her face.
My words get her eyes back on me and I’m grateful. “She’s...” she takes her time trying to describe her friend but in the end settles for “she’s Tallulah.”
“And who are you?”
“I’m Aurora. Rory.” She’s shy again. Nervous. As if she’s not accustomed to introducing herself. She rubs her neck, and I can’t help but glance down. Is she trying to be seductive? I get the impression she has no idea what she is doing to me. She’s smiling at me again and I can’t help but grin back.
“I’m Landon, are you going to do those shots?” I challenge her. I want to distract her so I can think up a plan to get her into my bed.
“Well I did get one for Lou but it doesn’t look like she wants it,” she looks towards the dance floor but I don’t follow her gaze, choosing to watch her instead, “Would you like one?” she asks me.
I laugh because I haven’t done shots in years, “alright.” I try to recall the last time I did shots and I’m pretty sure it was at university with Jarrod and Jack; back when we were all living off our parents’ money; completely irresponsible and unbelievably reckless.
She passes me one of the shot glasses and a slice of lemon. We both try to pick up the salt at the same time and the fire that I felt earlier is back again. She must feel it too. I catch my breath. She’s blushing again. I like that blush. The women I usually sleep with hardly ever blush. I didn’t realise I was missing anything until I met her though.
I down my tequila and scrunch up my face as I suck on the lemon, but I never take my eyes off her. I want to take her home, but I’m not sure I can just ask her the way I normally would. She’s different to the others and I’m completely out of my element. I’m going to have to choose a different approach. “Do you want to dance?” I ask her because right now I really just want to touch her.
“Okay,” she bites her lip again as she gets down from her stool. I grab her hand and lead her through the crowd. I’m tempted to take her to a quiet corner where I can misbehave but I know she’ll be more comfortable near her friend so I quickly scan the crowd for the blonde girl from earlier. When we reach her, I pull Aurora into my arms until I can feel her against my chest. Having her this close is intoxicating. I lean down and breathe in, taking in her scent. I gently kiss her neck before saying, “you smell amazing.”
I can’t see her face but I know she’s blushing and it turns me on. She catches me off guard when she leans up and kisses me gently on the lips. I think this girl might make a habit of surprising me. I kiss her back almost immediately, deepening the kiss with a swipe of my tongue across her lips. The kiss is intense. It’s deep and when she pulls away to breathe I’m left bereft. I pull her closer as if to lessen my loss. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want her. I kiss along her collar bone until she pulls me back up by my hair so that she can kiss me again. We are still moving to the music but I’m not sure I’d call it dancing. It’s too primitive. Raw. Needy. One of my hands in on her arse and the other is under her top, caressing her over her bra.
I pull away because I have to. If I don’t we’ll be having sex on the dance floor in front of her best friend and half the city because I know that with her I could easily lose control. We look at each other and I decide I have to do something. I have to choose; either slow this down or go with it. I’m about to ask her to come home with me when she asks me if I want another drink. I don’t. I want her. But I decide to do what she wants. I nod towards the bar. This time she pulls me through the crowd. When we reach the bar, I stand behind her so close I can feel every inch of her against me. I’m getting hard and I hope she can feel it. My hands are on her and I’m kissing her on her shoulder, her back, her neck, her ear... anywhere I can reach. She sucks in a breath as I suck on her ear, “I want you,” I tell her. She orders more tequila and I’m surprised by how steady her voice is. I thought I was affecting her too. I want to sulk. I’m not used to being the one doing the chasing. I’m wealthy and attractive and at the risk of sounding shallow, that usually gets me what I want. I wear an expensive outfit, put a sexy smirk on my face, buy a girl a few drinks and take her home in my flashy car and it works every time. Except possibly tonight. I get the impression, Aurora isn’t impressed by that sort of thing. We down the shots and then I decide to make a move. I turn her round so that she’s leaning with her back against the bar. She’s looking up at me with big doey eyesnow that I’ve got her trapped, my arms around her like a cage. She looks unsure, like she really doesn’t know how to respond. I take pity on her and lean in to kiss her. She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer. The kiss is anything but gentle. It’s devastating. She’s irresistible and she’s completely overpowering me and although I’m enjoying the benefits, I’m not sure I’m going to like the consequences.
The music is loud but my heart beat might be louder, she’s driving me insane. I have to have her. She’s got me completely enticed. I’m not at all sure what it is about her that has be so captivated but I’m pretty convinced I can’t escape her. “Should we go find somewhere quiet?” I ask her because I think I might scare her off if I invite her back to mine just yet.
She nods but doesn’t say a word until we’ve found a private booth in the garden. There are people all around us but because of the nature of the booths we are completely out of sight. I pull her onto my lap and kiss her again. I’ve finally got her all to myself. If I was a lion, I’d be roaring in triumph. “You’re beautiful,” I tell her before I can stop myself. I usually avoid compliments. It’s actually a rule; don’t be too nice. Compliments suggest you are interested in more than just tonight and I am never interested in anything beyond the one night. I have another rule, only talk about sex or things that will lead to sex. I don’t talk about anything that might suggest that I want to know them better because I never do. But because I’m genuinely intrigued I ask, “So why did you come out tonight?”
She’s slightly breathless but her eyes are fiery, “Tallulah came home today so I guess we’re sort of celebrating.”
“You certainly looked like you were celebrating earlier,” I shouldn’t say it. It is against the rules but I can’t help myself. I want her to know that I have been watching; that I’ve been aware of her all night.
She blushes, “we were making a list.”
“A list?” I should drop this conversation and start kissing her again but I amcompletely engrossed in what she is saying.
“A list of rules to break,” she bites her lip again and I cup her chin with my hand, releasing her lip from its prison.
“What rules are on this list?” I ask as I run my fingers down her neck and along her collar bone.
“All sorts,” her voice is harsh and it’s nice to hear that I am affecting her. “Just every rule my parents ever gave me.”
Her answer surprises me, “surely you’ve broken most of them already?” I really had misjudged her, it seems.
She shakes her head, “nope. I’m very good at keeping the rules.” Those words do something to me. In that moment I picture her tied up and completely at my mercy. I’ve never thought of myself as particularly dominant but there’s something tantalising about the idea of her submitting to me.
I want to ask what rules she wants to break but instead I find myself asking, “is there anything I can do to help?” And I’m hoping, almost praying that she says yes.
She laughs but I can tell she’s thinking. Her eyes are serious as she deliberates on what I have asked her. I’m anxious for her answer. “You could take me home,” she says confidently.
I give her a wolfish grin, “yours or mine?” I want to be certain.
“Yours,” she doesn’t miss a beat. She doesn’t even blush and it almost disappoints me. I promise myself that I’m going to spend the whole night finding ways to make her blush.
“Good,” I kiss her once more before saying, “let’s go.”
As we walk back through the bar to the exit, I wonder if she needs to say goodbye to her friends but she beats me to it when she says, “meet me at the exit? I need to say goodbye to Lou and Cameron.”
“I’ll come with you if you like,” I offer and take her hand without waiting for her reply. We find her friends quickly. They are sat in a small group in the seating area where I had first spotted Aurora.
“We wondered where you got to,” Tallulah winks.
I watch her as she awkwardly tells them that she will see them tomorrow and then we are heading out the door. Henry is waiting just outside with my Lexus. There is no visible sign that he has just been dragged out of bed by a text from his bothersome boss and for that I’m grateful. I’d texted him shortly after the first round of shots I had shared with Aurora. He has a smile on his face when he spots me coming towards him. The man might deserve a pay rise. It’s a good job I don’t make a habit of waking him up in the middle of the night. “Sir,” Henry opens the back door and I guide Aurora into the back seat before joining her, “thank you Henry.”
“Any time sir,” he replies, “where would you like to go?”
“Very well sir,” he nods before closing the door and walking round the car to the driver’s door. He gets in, places the key in the ignition and pulls out of the car park.
Keep your eyes peeled. The whole story will be available soon.