by S. Valentine
***
Darion
As Darion climbed the stairs to his apartment, he couldn’t stop the grin that played on his face. He’d had a fun day with Gabi, especially in the store changing rooms. He loved the adrenaline rush, the buzz that he got from almost getting caught doing something forbidden. He played every last detail back in his mind, which aroused him. He didn’t get people that took themselves too seriously. Life was too short.
He unlocked the door to his apartment, and entered the living room. He took in the bare space and wondered what to do with himself. Switching on the stereo, he allowed “Waiting For The End” by Linkin Park to play. The sofa looked inviting. Perhaps he’d relax for a bit, maybe even doze off.
Retrieving a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it, he dropped onto the sofa. As he lay there, he watched the smoke circling above him, and concentrated on the song lyrics. The words were extremely fitting. His spirits plummeted. He remained there for fifteen minutes, hoping his lids would feel heavy, and tiredness would overtake him. No such luck.
Sitting up abruptly, he felt an urge to visit the club. Perhaps he could get stupidly drunk and have a lock-in with the girls. Or maybe he should do the sensible thing, and shut himself away in the office to sort out the books and the membership applications. Stay put, Darion. In the apartment, he couldn’t get up to any mischief.
He decided to watch a movie in bed. After he’d undressed, and showered, he got comfortable under the covers. Flicking through the channels, he settled on an action film. He was eager to see explosives, blood, gore, and mind-blowing fights, but it was on a wedding scene. As the bride walked down the aisle, her face merged into Eva’s, as his ex-wife once again haunted his mind. His head fell back against the pillow. He tried his hardest to focus on the images before him. But, persistent as the woman herself, the flashback presented itself before him.
He could hear the orchestra, clear as day. He could feel the sun warming his cheeks. He could smell the pretty flower arrangements that surrounded him. He could feel the twist of his stomach, and the thundering of his heart, as he’d felt on that exact day. He remembered his shaking fingers as he’d adjusted his tie, nervous as hell.
It was like he was miraculously back there, standing in the churchyard, on his wedding day. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, and lifted his gaze. He sucked in air, fearing that the happiness he was feeling would stream down his face. He didn’t do crying, and he certainly wasn’t going to start there.
Eva’s black curls hung beautifully over her shoulders. A white veil had been delicately placed on her head. Her petite shoulders were bare, her bosom exposed. The white dress clung to her hips, and expanded at her legs, the long train trailing behind her. She looked stunning, and still as seductive as ever, with her full lips, and green, cat-like eyes. His heart swelled with how much he loved her.
He’d already accidentally seen her dress the night before, when he’d snuck into her room for a kiss goodnight. He should have known it wouldn’t have ended at a kiss. They were obsessed with one another.
“Daz.” She’d pushed him onto the bed, straddling him. Wearing just her knickers and a vest, the tattoos that spiralled down one leg were visible. She flung her arms around his neck, and giggled when his stare dropped to her cleavage. “I can’t believe we’re getting married in the morning.”
A lazy smile had teased his lips. “You’re gonna look amazing in that dress.”
“Shit.” She’d grabbed his face, turning his attention to her. “It’s bad luck for you to see that.”
He’d leant forward and brushed his lips against hers. She responded eagerly, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, and smashing her mouth against his.
“Mrs. Milano.” She chuckled. “Has quite a ring to it, don’t it?”
“It sure does.” He stroked her hair out of her face. “Why are you marrying me, Eva?”
“You know why.”
He remained silent, wanting to hear the reasons, needing clarification, reassurance.
“I’m marrying you because you’re everything I want in a man.” She kissed his forehead. “You’re smart.” She kissed his cheek. “You love and protect me.” She kissed his jaw. “You’re amazing in bed.” She pecked him on the mouth. “And you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”
He chewed his lip. “Do you mean all that?”
She nodded. “Every fucking word.” She yanked his top from over his head, and massaged his shoulders firmly. “Why are you marrying me?”
“You’ve got all of those qualities, and more.” He unclasped her bra, freeing her breasts. “I love every single thing about you. And I’ll love every single thing about you forever.”
“Good. Because you’ve got me forever.” She trailed kisses along his collarbone. “This is it, Daz. Me and you against the world.”
As she unzipped his jeans, he felt himself falling back onto the bed. Eva Milano. It sounded like music to his ears—the best song he’d ever heard. She was his. Forever. He’d found his girl. He knew that as long as he had her, he’d die a happy man.
Turning his head, he was dragged back to reality. The black sheets came into focus, and then the wardrobe, and the television. Eva’s voice was replaced with Angelina Jolie’s, and he remembered where he was—his room. His throat tightened, a heavy ache lingering in his chest. He looked up, inhaling deeply, holding in the sadness, heartbreak, humiliation, and anger that wanted to trickle down his face in the form of tears, and never stop. Don’t be a pussy, Darion. His features hardened, the cords of his neck became taut as he fought to stay in control. It was just another stupid memory.
Grabbing his mobile, he logged onto a gambling website. He needed a distraction. He decided to play poker. It wasn’t a good idea. Darion never knew when enough was enough. At that moment, he didn’t care one bit.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabi
Gabi stretched one leg in the air before stretching the other. She raised her arms above her head, ensuring that she really worked her muscles. Her hair was tied into a knot, and she was casually dressed in tight black sports leggings, a vest, and trainers. Surrounding her were women and men around the same age, all of whom stood before a huge wall mirror and a dance instructor.
“First thing’s first…” The teacher clapped her hands together. “There are different styles of hip-hop, such as old school, street dance, jazz. Today, we’ll be doing a variation of them all.” She strode toward a stereo. “You’ve now all warmed up, so, let’s get started.” She grinned, pressing a button, causing music to boom from the speakers.
The teacher began stepping from left to right, slightly bending her knees as she did so. “Okay, so mirror my feet, and bend your knees with each step like so. Ready? One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six,” she said in between each step.
Gabi copied the instructor, moving her feet from left to right, whilst crouching slightly.
“Great. Now, let’s do that again, but this time, move our arms at the same time, like this.” As the teacher repeated her steps, she lifted her arms, pushing them forward, and bending them at the elbows. “Ready? One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six,” she said in between moving her feet and arms.
An hour later, after the session had finished, feeling pleased with herself for picking up the moves quite quickly, Gabi grabbed her bag and waved to the teacher and her fellow learners. She almost skipped through reception, as the music still sounded loud in her ears. She was already looking forward to the next lesson.
Stopping at the vending machine, she purchased a bottle of water and drained half of it in several swigs. Her skin glistened with sweat, and her face was hotly flushed. She wove her way through bodies, and entered the ladies’ room. She checked her mobile before she got in the shower.
She had asked herself for the hundredth time why Darion hadn’t called, or responded to her text message. It had been a few days. Maybe the relationship was more hassle than it was worth. She didn’t want to feel like some silly
little girl waiting by the phone, willing it to ring. She hated being let down. They had previously planned to meet up as much as possible, to make the most of her time off work.
She contemplated calling him, but decided against it, assuming that he was probably busy. After the hot shower, she dressed in a black, long-sleeved top, white mini skirt, and black ankle boots. She scraped her wavy hair off her face, and fastened it with a clip.
At that moment, her mobile rang. Darion’s name lit up the screen. She allowed it to ring three times before answering it, not wanting to come across eager. “Hello.”
“Gabi. How’s it going?” His voice was croaky, as if he’d just woken up.
“All good, thanks.”
“What are you doing?’
“I’ve just had a dance class.”
“Great. You wanna meet me at the club?”
“Ermmm…” She paused. “I’ll give it a miss today. Have a few things I need to sort out.”
“Well, take care of business, and meet me afterwards.”
“I’ll see you another time,” she said stubbornly. He really did think that she was his play toy, at his beck and call.
“Gabi, I wanna see you today.”
She remained silent.
“Come and see me after you’re done. Please.”
She found herself losing the battle. “Okay.” She drummed her fingers on the counter. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“I look forward to it.” His soft, seductive tone returned.
Gabi craved a strong coffee and some fresh air. As she was already in town, she stopped at Starbucks and ordered a latte and a muffin. She sat near the window, reading the day’s newspaper, taking her time. Darion annoyed her. He had a way of getting under her skin like no one else could. What the fuck was she doing? He had a hold over her that she couldn’t shake off. He was like a drug that she couldn’t go a day without, she was utterly addicted to him—his sultry voice, his possessive touch, his sweet smell, everything about him. Just thinking about him made her all excited.
In the car on the way to the club, she turned the volume high on the radio, singing along to the music.
An hour later, when she was eventually inside The Black Door, she noticed Gina working behind the bar, a cat-that-got-the-cream smile plastered on her face. Did they still have an ongoing thing? Gabi felt a surge of jealousy pierce her heart, as thoughts of Gina and Darion together invaded her mind. But then again, he had called her. Gina was obviously not enough. Darion appeared from a door, his hands full with a pile of letters. “Gina, can you read all this? My head’s fuckin’ killing me.”
“Sure.” She took the stack from him.
“It’s probably nothin’ important, but just to be sure.”
With both elbows propped on the bar, Darion casually leant against it. Gabi watched as Gina threw him a provocative look, before pinching his ass. Gabi saw Darion’s lips curl, a low, dirty laugh escaping. Gabi’s heart beat wildly. She tried to remain calm. We’re not exclusive. He’s not my boyfriend, she told herself over and over. Accept it. She knew what she was getting herself into.
Gina sauntered off, not even realising that Gabi was present. Darion must have felt her eyes burning holes into him, because he looked up. His grin instantly vanished, although his expression was unreadable. “Gabi.” She couldn’t make out if he was shocked or sorry that she had witnessed the little flirtation that had occurred. “Come to the office.”
She hesitated before following him through the back door. He’s such an asshole.
“So.” Darion collapsed on the chair, and ran a hand through his hair, which was swept back neatly. “What do you fancy doing tonight?”
“I don’t know.” Gabi sat on the sofa, ensuring her gaze didn’t meet his. “What do you suggest?”
“You know what I want.” He gave her a ghost of a wink. “You.”
Right. She was only there for one thing. What did she expect? It was nothing but sex. She stood up, and slowly walked over to him, sitting on the edge of his desk. She stroked the wood, then pulled her hand back, wondering how many women he had had sprawled over it.
“I wanna have fun with you, drink, and party the night away.” He licked his lips. “What do you say?”
“Hmmm,” she mumbled, unable to hide the petulance in her tone.
His expression turned serious, as he regarded her intently. “Are you pissed off with me?”
“No,” she lied, knowing she had no right to slap restrictions on him, but the Gina issue was niggling away at her.
He straightened his posture. “I hope you’d tell me if something was on your mind.”
What, like you tell me anything?
Darion pushed himself to his feet, and leant into her, meeting her mouth. With gentle lingering kisses, his tongue explored hers, his hands cupping her face. “Looks like we’re both in need of a drink.” He slowly pulled back, leaving a few last tender pecks on her lips.
He poured them both a glass of whisky, which they wasted no time in finishing. He then grabbed hold of her hand, giving it a quick squeeze, and led her to the bar. They downed a shot of absinthe each, and sat in a private booth, him closing the curtains behind them. Gabi watched as he made himself comfortable on the red sofa, his gaze boring into her, sparkling with interest.
“Dance for me, Gabi.”
The music was playing loud enough to dance to, yet quiet enough to hear one another speak. Gabi contemplated giving him a private dance. She was so into Darion that she found herself trying to please not only him, but herself. Plus, if she could keep Darion’s attention on her, and only her, maybe they had a better chance of lasting.
She grabbed the bottle of wine that he had taken from the bar, swigged some of it back, and decided she would put on a little show for him. She could see if he was impressed with the new dance moves she’d learnt that day.
Drunkenly giggling, she stepped onto the podium, one hand holding the pole. “She Rides” by Danzig was playing. She swayed her hips, her stare fixed on his. Spreading her legs, she raised her arms above her head, winding her waist in circles, slowly, repeatedly, before turning her back on him, and bending down to touch her toes. She wiggled her ass slowly from side to side, teasing him.
His gaze swept over her appreciatively. Running her hands up her legs, she stood straight again. She slowly twirled around to face him, and peeled her dress off. Her black silk bra and underwear shimmered under the lights. Her fingers travelled down her body, at a leisurely pace. She stepped between his legs, and rotating her hips, she leant forward and whipped off her bra. Her breasts hung teasingly in front of his face.
It didn’t take long until the alcohol properly hit her, and when it did, she was completely naked and stumbling on her heels. She was in a fit of giggles, along with Darion. Falling onto the sofa, her blonde head fell in her arms as she took a deep breath. Darion ran tender kisses along her spine.
“You wanna watch the girls dance?”
She shrugged indifferently.
“Spin Spin Sugar” by Sneaker Pimps was now blasting from the speakers, and the club was starting to get busy. Gabi quickly dressed, and she and Darion sat amongst the crowd. Gina was on the pole, with Marnie behind the bar. Gabi fidgeted in her seat, fighting the urge to get up and dance.
Half an hour later, the room was spinning. The music thudded in her ears, loud and clear. The smell of alcohol, and Darion’s natural masculine aroma, filled her nostrils. She felt the blood in her veins rush to her heart, causing it to pump in her chest at a rapid pace. Her body felt alive, full of energy.
“Let’s go to a nightclub.” She took hold of Darion’s hand. “Please.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”
They got a taxi to the nearest nightclub. Treading slowly down the steps, they entered a massive room, which was packed from wall to wall with people dancing. Laser lights filled the room, and podium dancers moved fast to house beats. The atmosphere was lively, and Gabi want
ed nothing more than to join in the crowd, and shake off some of her pent-up energy.
“C’mon,” she yelled at Darion excitedly, beckoning him over.
“I think I’m too old for this.” He laughed.
“Nonsense.”
Gabi pulled him toward her, dancing with him, her body pressed against his. They began kissing frantically, like two teenagers who couldn’t get enough of one another. Gabi started laughing again, unable to control the urge.
He ran his hands up her dress, kissing her even harder. When his fingertips traced the material of her underwear, her eyes darted around the room, taking in the crowd. Although everyone was dancing, and not paying attention, Gabi felt it was too risky allowing Darion to touch her in such a crowded place.
“I want you now,” he moaned into her ear, his hot breath making her tingle, his teeth grazing her skin.
“Not here.” She shook her head.
“Well then let’s find somewhere.”
Gabi looked at him. He was so handsome, so sexy, rough, and rugged. How could she refuse? He was just too irresistible. He hooked his fingers through hers, and led her through the dancing crowd. Surveying the club, he spotted some stairs, which led to another dance floor, with balconies overlooking the room in which they were in. The area was closed off, sealed by a velvet rope.
“Come on.”
She hurried after him, feeling nervous, but rebellious at the same time. Once on the secluded dark floor, she expected him to settle in the seating area, but instead he forcefully backed her against the wall.
“How about I fuck you right here?” His hungry gaze burned into hers, awaiting permission to ravage her.
“Addicted to Love” by Serge Devant thudded through her ears. One thing Gabi and Darion particularly loved was music, and there was nothing quite like fucking to it—fast and hard to dubstep or rock ‘n’ roll, slow and sensual to R&B or soul, or both for house music.
