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“Sure. Or either one of them, I don’t care. You’re hitting it off with her.” He glances at Natalie, who sips her drink while the other two girls gush about us without her.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“So, take her home.”
When I hesitate, Jackson nudges me. “Come on, man. She clearly wants you, and a man isn’t made of stone.”
I laugh. Jackson always says that to me when we talk about getting laid. His reasoning is that if the woman wants it, we should give it. And he’s not wrong, although I prefer to build connections if I’m going to go the mile.
When I turn back to Natalie, the smile she offers is delicious. Her large eyes are dark, and it echoes my need. And the truth is, despite not knowing her at all, she’s different than anyone I’ve met before. It feels like we know each other, not that we’re complete strangers.
“Can I get you something?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t drink more. It will only get ugly.”
“I don’t think you can get ugly.”
She blushes. I can see it despite the dim lighting. I lean in and kiss her again. When we break the kiss, she’s breathless.
“Come home with me,” I say.
She nods and I take her hand. I make eye contact with Jackson so he sees me leaving, and we weave through the crowd.
When we step outside, Natalie wraps her arms around her body against the chilly air and I pull her against me for warmth.
“I know this is very cliché to say,” she says. “But I don’t usually do this.”
“Would you like me to take you home instead?” I ask. I want her desperately, but if she doesn’t want to come home with me, I’ll take her number and take her out to coffee or dinner and woo her the right way.
She shakes her head and blushes, and I grin.
A cab pulls up and we get in. I give the driver my address and while we drive, her hand rests on my thigh. She doesn’t realize how she brands me. I tilt her head up and toward me and kiss her again. My arm’s around her shoulder, my hand dangling just above her breast, and my fingers tingle with the ache to touch her.
I wait until we stop in front of my apartment building.
“This is a fancy place,” she says.
I shrug. “Home sweet home.”
I lead her into the lobby and to the elevator. When the doors slide closed, I push her against the elevator wall and kiss her. She gasps and I can hear her moans now that there isn’t any music to drown out the sound. And fuck, it’s hot to hear her respond to me like that. I grind my hips against her, and she grips my shoulder with one hand, her nails digging into my skin through the shirt I wear.
The elevator door opens into my penthouse hallway and I unlock the door. I watch her take in my apartment and all its luxuries. I have photographs of football players blown up on the wall. Some of them are of me.
I wait for her to put two and two together, but she only turns to me and kisses me again.
I get lost in her.
When I slide my hands up her legs and under her dress, she widens her stance to give me more access. I cup her pussy, rubbing her through her lace panties, and she moans.
I tug her panties down a little and push my fingers into her.
“You’re so fucking wet,” I groan.
“I want you that much,” she answers in a husky voice.
Her breath hitches in her throat when I start to circle her clit with my fingers and she moans. I pick her up and carry her the few steps to my dining room table. When she’s on the table, I push up her dress, get rid of her panties completely, and her heels fall to the floor. I dive between her thighs and get a taste of her.
And holyfuck,I want more.
