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He bows his head. “Very nice to meet you, Abby. Please join us. It’s a beautiful night.”
Well, shit. Even in the dim of the club, his light-blue eyes, rimmed by thick black eyelashes, are so freaking… sexy. And he’s looking at me. Like really looking at me.
Guys like that don’t look at girls like me. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with me, it’s just that prettiness is currency. A currency I don’t have.
Regardless, they are inviting us on their boat.
“You guys,” I repeat to the sisters, “we don’t know them.”
But there’s no resolve behind my protest. I know I’m just blowing hot air. Everyone else knows I’m just blowing hot air.
They move closer, ganging up on me. “Abbay,” Sabi says, stroking my hair, “they are much cuter than the DJ. Who doesn’t even have a boat.”
She and Vivi dissolve into giggles.
Guess this is what ecstasy does.
Sabi puts her hands together like she’s praying and begs. “Please,Abbay. We will not go without you. We need you because you are not wasted like we are.”
They start giggling again.
“Abbay, please? They look so nice,” she pleads.
Fedor, the one with the eyes, approaches our little confab. “Don’t worry, ladies. We understand. You don’t know us. You should stay here and enjoy your evening.”
He waves, and with his friend, heads toward the door.
I watch the crowd part for them, both women and men admiring them—their handsome faces, T-shirts straining around their biceps, jeans hugging their perfect asses.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
“Wait!” I call after them.
Why the fuck shouldn’t I have my fun?
I’ve been letting my father dictate my every move since… well, since Mom left. But I’m freaking twenty years old with two years of college under my belt. I’m a long way from home, and I sure as hell have never been invited on a boat, in Ibiza, with two of the most handsome guys I’ve ever seen. And, my birthday is coming up.
I’ve already left Madrid, gone out without my passport, talked with a creepy, possessive DJ guy, and sent the last three phone calls from my father directly to voicemail.
So, I might as well go full-on bad girl, and see what other trouble I can get myself into.
“Wait, wait,” I call, chasing after them with the sisters behind me, giggling their asses off. “We’ll go. We’ll go to your boat.”
* * *
2
BOGDAN
I fuckinghate Ibiza party girls.
To an extent, anyway.
But it’s inevitable that Ilya and Fedor drag a couple back to the boat, as they often do.
Not that I don’t benefit from my associates’ charm. Girls on vacation don’t come to Ibiza because they’re nuns. The want to party. They want to get laid. And I am here for it all. Give them a story to take back to their friends stuck at home. Give them a memory of one of their ‘wildest’ trips ever, when some good-looking guys invited them out on a boat and fucked the stuffing out of them. Sometimes they have their first threesome or foursome with us. Sometimes, they mess around with their girlfriends too. Kiss, eat some pussy, or maybe even ass if we guys are feeling really persuasive. It's all on the menu.
Remember that time?I can hear them saying some few years down the road.What was that guy’s name again, the one I met in Ibiza?
