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Sabrina swallows, her throat tightening.
I pull her against my side, murmuring in her ear, “All I want to do is give you what you want.”
She looks up at me, our faces inches apart.
“I want it all.”
My arm tightens around her.
“Go and get it then.”
I see the decision on her face before she speaks.
“Alright. I’ll ask her.”
I laugh, watching the blonde press against the glass like a puppy at the pound.
“I think she’s already saying yes.”
* * *
An hour later,when the blonde has finished her shift in the showers and I’ve sent her a hefty tip via the bouncers, she emerges from the staff room, dressed in a pale-blue sheath and sky-high heels, her hair loose down her back, large diamond hoops dangling from her ears.
She perches herself on a stool over by the bar, crossing her legs in front of her, casting a furtive glance in our direction as she orders her drink.
“You want me to pick her up for you?” I tease Sabrina.
“The day I need a wingman is the day I throw myself off a cliff,” she snarls.
“Perfect. I’ll meet you out front with the car.”
Sabrina pauses, casting a suspicious glance back over her shoulder. “What car? We rode here on bikes.”
I shake my head. “When will you stop underestimating me? I’ve had four months to plan this date. Of course I have a car.”
A smile plays over her lips. She likes surprises.
“Alright then. See you in a minute.”
I head toward the stairs, pausing halfway down so I can watch Sabrina work.
She slides onto the stool next to the blonde, raising a finger to the bartender to order a drink of her own.
Then she leans on her elbow, frankly looking the blonde up and down, paying some compliment that makes the girl laugh, pink in her cheeks.
I’m hit with a rush of heat, watching Sabrina radiate her raw sexual energy at full blast.
Everything Sabrina does is charged—each lift of her eyebrow, each flash of her teeth, the way she sits, the way she stands, the way she crosses her legs. Everything about her is hot as hell, and that’s when she’s not even trying.
Now I’m watching her exert herself, bringing all her powers to play. It’s fucking mesmerizing.
She takes her drink from the bartender, plucking the stick of olives from her martini and sliding one in her mouth. She chews slowly, then dips the olives back into the gin before removing another with her teeth.
Sabrina has the quality certain actors possess, compelling you to watch her every move. She can sexualize even the simplest of actions.
The blonde can hardly meet her eye. She’s nervous now, with no glass wall between them. She’s pink in the cheeks, fidgeting on her stool.
Sabrina murmurs something, holding out her drink for the girl to take a sip. Obediently, the blonde bends her head and drinks from Sabrina’s glass. When a little vodka clings to her lower lip, Sabrina catches it with the ball of her thumb. Their faces are close together, their mouths inches apart.
