Behind His Lens(2)

She pushes her arms under her pronounced cleavage, making sure it’s visible to everyone at the bar, and leans closer.

“A beer would be great,” she sighs, running her fingers down the buttons of my shirt. The act feels much too intimate and I instinctively pull her hand away with a laugh. Easy tiger.

As the bartender approaches I order Natasha an import and watch as she brings the bottle slowly to her lips. She really is hot. She has exotic features and dark, sultry eyes. Too bad I’m not interested in getting to know the person behind them.

As the club’s music grows louder, her free hand shifts to my thigh and Bennett clears his throat as she runs her hands up and down suggestively. I have to fight back a laugh. We could probably just head to the restroom here and make it a lot quicker. I brush the hair away from her shoulder and lean in to whisper those exact words. I know she’s game, and honestly, it’s easier. I don’t even have to worry about getting her to leave my apartment afterward.

God, I’m an *. I chug the rest of my bourbon in a silent toast to that thought and slam it on the bar, making eye contact with the cute bartender and flashing her one more languid grin. Natasha giggles like a slutty school girl behind me, drawing my attention away. I nod a goodbye to Bennett. He knows exactly what I’m planning, but he’s not one to judge.

Putting my hand on the small of Natasha’s back, I lead her through the crowd, trying to decide if I want to take her in a dark corner or in one of the bathrooms. I pat the back of my jeans to confirm that my wallet and condoms are still tucked away safely. Check— I’d never f*ck around without one.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Natasha oozes sensually as we wind through the club with my hand gripping her ass.

I bite my tongue instead of commenting because to be honest, I hadn’t thought of her until Bennett brought her up. She’s a means to an end, and I thought we were clear about that fact.

I brush her words aside and am about to lean in to whisper some bullshit about f*cking her against the wall, but the sentiment stalls on the tip of my tongue when I see her.

She’s across the dim room on the dance floor. The crowd has parted so that she’s barely visible between a thin gap of dancing bodies. A few seconds later, the dancers move and she’s hidden away again like a distant mirage. When the thump of the dubstep song fades into a pop remix, the crowd dwindles and I’m left with a perfect vantage. My jaw hits the floor as I watch her persuade the world around her to bend toward her presence. My eyes scan up and down her body, caught in her allure. She’s wearing a white, flowy dress, and I can’t tell if it’s that or her long, light blonde hair spilling down her back that makes me think she’s a f*cking angel.

There are bodies all around her, shuffling and dancing. Every guy that spies her tries to get closer, but her friend doesn’t seem to allow it. She’s like a queen among peasants.


Would her friend let me get close?

I doubt it.

The two girls dance together, smiling and getting lost in the moment, oblivious to the club goers around them. Her friend is pretty too, exactly the type of girl Bennett would lose it over, with dark hair and a dark complexion. Has he seen her yet? This could work out perfectly.

No, it wouldn’t.

I’ve already found a girl for the night. I’m not in the habit of exerting unnecessary effort, especially when girls are just so compliant.

I become vaguely aware of Natasha rubbing my thigh and whispering in my ear, but it’s nothing more than a faint buzzing. I would rather watch the Angel move on the dance floor. She’s completely unaware that she has the attention of every single person around her. She lifts her arms in the air, as if reaching for the wild hues strobing above her head. Then she runs the fingers of her right arm down to her left elbow, swaying to the beat of the song. I’ve never seen someone move so erotically, and I can feel my dick stir in my pants just from watching the innocent act. What the f*ck? What the f*ck am I doing?

I shake the thoughts from my head, but I can’t tear my concentration away from her. I don’t want this hazy dream to end.

“Baby, kiss me.” Natasha shoves her pink, glossy lips directly in front of me, forcing the rest of the club into hazy submission behind her. With a gruff sigh, I reluctantly oblige. This is who I am.

Wrapping my hands around her neck, I lean back against the wall and drag her in front of me. She sidles between my legs, skimming the top of my jeans with her fingers and pushing her greedy tongue into my mouth. I kiss her hard, willing every other thought out of my mind, but it doesn’t help. Her mouth feels wrong.