"Let's get a table?" I ask Ashley, but I'm not really fucking asking because I lead her over and sit her down.
"It's a nice place," Ashley says as she looks around. "I'm surprised."
"Surprised that I would come here?" I ask.
"Surprised that you're going through the effort," she says and smiles at me. "Oh don't get me wrong. I totally appreciate it and love the fact that we're on a real date."
"What the fuck would we be doing otherwise?" I ask. I'm fucking sorry but I can't help myself.
"Fuck," she says, and her eyes are looking right at me. I'm silent. "A part of me thought we'd get right down to that and this was some elaborate hotel so you wouldn't have to go far."
"I live at One57," I tell her. "So I'm literally a block away."
Ashley rolls her eyes. "Well that makes sense now," she says.
"You think someone like me isn't able to take girls on dates?" I ask a bit curious where this conversation is going.
"You stole my cab," she says with a twinkle in her eye. "Coming out of a strip club. Which is all I know about you. Sorry for not expecting more out of you."
I laugh. She smiles at me. You're probably looking at me thinking I've gone fucking crazy. Laughing at what she said.
But don't forget. I'm the one in control here. Not her. My laughing is just a sign that I'm not fucking threatened. Because I'm not.
"Then what the fuck are you doing here?" I ask. Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say. But she said ‘fuck' first.
"Waiting to see how you're going to try and fuck me," she says and leans back as the waiter brings our dirty martinis to the table. He gives her a sidelong glance, obviously hearing the last part of our exchange. Ashley smiles and twirls her hair in one finger absently.
"What do you do?" she asks me.
I raise my glass. "Steal cabs from women outside of strip clubs so I can rescue them from ex-boyfriends during the day."
She smiles and raises her glass and we click in a toast. "Thank you for the other night," she says to me.
"Don't mention it," I tell her. "I was just passing by."
"I hope you know that it doesn't entitle you to sleep with me or anything like that," she says to me, staring into my eyes.
"I don't think it entitles me to anything," I say to her and she looks at me with curiosity. Where am I taking this, she's probably wondering. "But I know you're still wondering what it would be like if I fucked you."
If I'd gotten up and whipped out my 12-inch cock and waved it around, Ashley wouldn't be any more surprised it seems like.
"That's what I'm wondering?" she asks me, her eyes wide.
I nod my head. "Since you got on your way over here. You're also wondering about these tattoos you can faintly see underneath my shirt the way your eyes are moving."
Ashley takes a sip of her martini and leans closer on the table toward me.
"What else am I thinking?" she asks, this time into a bit more of a smile. "I'm curious because you seem to know so much better than I do."
"You're thinking if my apartment is only a block away, how you can legitimately end up giving me an opportunity to ask you to come up," I reply back to her, not breaking her stare.
"So you can fuck me?" she asks, pretending to make sure.
"So you can cum till you pass the fuck out," I clarify for her.
"That good?" she asks back with an arched eyebrow.
"Even better," I parry back to her.
She pauses for a moment. "So didn't you just give me the opportunity to legitimately give you the chance to ask me to go to your apartment?" Ashley asks with a twinkle. "When you brought up the whole fact of bringing it up, can't I take it?"
I smile. This was fucking easy I think to myself as I beckon the waiter and get up. But unlike most girls, this one knows what she's doing. She might end up being quite a bit of fun.
We'll see. Like I told her-and you-my apartment is literally a block away.
She gets out of her chair.
"Are you taking me up on my legitimate chance?" she asks with amusement. "Are we going to your apartment?"
"I figured I'd show you around," I tell her. I know what I'm doing. I'm the one in control, remember?
"Then maybe I should do this," she says and takes two steps over.
She reaches over and grabs my head with both hands and pulls my mouth close to hers. In a moment, I'm kissing her. Our lips part and our tongues meet as our eyes close. She massages her tongue gently over mine and I'm in heaven.
Before I know it, she's pulled back.
"I'll meet you outside," she says and turns around. I watch her hips sway and her ass cheeks flex as she walks out.
Every eye in the restaurant is on me. I literally have no idea what to fucking do.
But I do know one thing though.
I'm a fucking idiot if I ever thought I was in control with this woman.
I can't wait to find out what happens next.
67
Ashley
One57. I never thought I'd actually step foot into one of the most exclusive condominiums in the world. But here I am, riding in One57's elevator, arm in arm with a drop-dead gorgeous man, Arsen Hawke. The place looks amazing, but to tell you the truth, I don't pay much attention to it. By the time he opens the door to his apartment, there's only one thing dominating my mind: sex. There's something about him that tells me I'm in for quite a ride …
I step inside his apartment, and the moment I hear the door closing behind us I'm on him. I turn on my heels and press my mouth against his. Our lips touch and my soul starts to boil. It's all it takes really-one taste of the Devil's lips and I know I'm damned. Whatever he wants to do to me, I'm his.
I part my lips slightly, my tongue reaching for his and dancing in slow soft circles around it. His hands are on my waist, his long fingers firmly planted on my hips. We kiss in abandonment, my fingers running through his hair and disheveling it as my heart beats faster and faster. I let my hands fall down to the side of his face and I trace the hard lines of his jaw, the warmness on his skin calling to me.
"I'm going to fuck you," he suddenly says, taking one hand to my neck and yanking on my hair, forcing my head back. I open my eyes, locking them on his, and I stop breathing for a whole second as he continues. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't even know your name when we're done."
Each word that leaves his lips is like opium, traveling from my ears to my brain and drowning it in numbness. I try to think of an appropriate response, but all I can do is mouth an anxious "yes." He takes one step forward, pushing me back and pinning me against the wall. My heart is drumming so hard I half-expect it to claw its way out of my chest anytime now.
"I own you. Right now, you're mine," he says, leaning in and whispering in my ear, his full lips brushing against my skin. My heart rises and falls at a hurried pace, my lungs working overtime as his eyes seem to devour me. Impatient with my silence, he yanks harder on my hair, his lips turning into a hard line. "Say it."
What the hell is going on? If any guy treated me like this in the strip club I'd have the bouncers kick his ass in the blink of an eye. Hell, I wouldn't tolerate this from any of my past boyfriends! But, somehow, his hard eyes locked on mine, I find my brain shutting down, my unconscious hidden thoughts crawling out of their cages.
"I'm yours," I find myself saying, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
"You are," he grins, the way his lips curl upward makes him look even more beautiful. "And you'll do everything I tell you to."
"I will do everything you tell me to," I repeat, my mouth turning dry. Of course, as my mouth goes dry, my pussy becomes wetter than it has ever been-maybe there's some correlation there.
Still with one hand on my hair, he takes the other one to the hemline of my dress, the tip of his fingers brushing against the naked skin above my right knee. I feel my skin prickling as his fingers hike up my leg, gently lifting the dress in the process. The closer he gets to my pussy, the wetter I become, a wildfire of desire spreading inside of me. I almost reach for his wrist and force his hand against my pussy, but I'm so entranced by his touch I simply stand still, the perfect victim to his teasing.
Unblinking, I stare into his eyes as his fingers close in on my groins, my insides burning with anticipation. But instead of simply going for it, he simply traces the contour of my thong with his index finger, going back and forth over both my groins without actually touching my pussy. Guided by unconscious desire, I find myself bucking my hips at him, aching to feel his hand on me. The moment I do it, he takes his hand out from under my dress and yanks on my hair again.
"Stand still," he tells me, deviousness flickering in his eyes. I nod, pursing my lips and trying to ignore my own instincts. Stand still, I repeat to myself, the words echoing inside my head. In an instant, his hand is under my dress again, his index finger gently running along the place where fabric and skin meet. He goes like that for what seems like an eternity, although it couldn't have been more than a minute. It's easy to lose track of time when you're so wet your juices have soaked your underwear completely. Then he finally turns his wrist and flattens the palm of his hand over the front of my thong. I can't help but gasp as I succumb to the pressure of his fingers on my pussy. I throw my head back and close my eyes, a sweet numbness embracing every single one of my nerve endings.