by Zoey Parker
Sweet, that was finally what I came to as a word to describe her. Sweet. Not usually my type, but for some reason I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was so unlike everyone else in the room, so out of place.
She eventually made it to the bar. “Um, excuse me?” she called out, trying to get the bartender who was at the opposite end. He either didn’t hear her or didn’t care that she was calling; she didn’t look like she had a lot of money. Leaning over the bar farther to get his attention—I noticed the way her breasts sat heavily on the counter, pushing together until even her modest little summer dress couldn’t completely contain them—she waved at him again, “Excuse me, sir?”
She was so polite and I found it irritated me that he continued to ignore her attempts to get his attention. It was hardly her fault if she didn’t look like the other prima donnas in the room.
Leaning over to her, I asked, “What would you like?” I let just a little bit of my accent roll over across my tongue, because I knew women went for that sort of thing. I had intended to just be gentlemanly, but now I was rethinking it and considering other, darker things. Dirty things.
Surprised, she glanced over at me. Her face flushed brightly and I saw her chest heave as though she had just taken a heavy breath. Her long eyelashes fluttered before she looked down shyly. “Um, I’m not sure. What’s good?”
I laughed a little at her, good-naturedly. “Oh, don’t drink much?”
She giggled a little and ran her slender fingers through her long hair self-consciously, as though she had a thing in the world to feel self-conscious about. “I, um, don’t drink a lot,” she admitted.
My eyebrows rose in surprise. Could she be serious? I didn’t know there were people in the city who didn’t drink. “Well, then you need to get the best, of course.” I waved the bartender over easily and ordered her a vodka to match my own, though I added a little ice for hers. I thought she might appreciate it.
“Oh, um, how much?” she asked, reaching into her dress pockets—which seemed odd to me, but then I realized she didn’t have a purse.
I placed a large hand on her wrist, stilling her movements. She flushed at the contact and I smiled sweetly at her. “No, I insist. He’ll put it on my tab.” And the bartender nodded and walked away before she could even think about arguing.
“That’s…that’s really sweet of you.”
Sweet? Not likely, I thought, but kept that to myself. I certainly had other motives—like getting a handful of those tits at some point tonight. Even if that was all I got.
The bartender put another tumbler on the counter next to mine.
“My name is Nikolai,” I introduced myself, offering her a large hand.
She sucked her full lower lip into her mouth, worrying it between her teeth, making me wish I could slide my tongue over that lip and into her mouth. “Madeline,” she answered me, placing a tiny hand into mine. I swallowed it whole.
“Here alone tonight?” I asked, mostly because I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t have to beat some asshole up if I wanted a taste of her. I wasn’t one to get into some feud with a man over a woman. There were plenty of fish in the sea, after all.
She nodded her head, her thick hair tumbling around her bare shoulders. “I didn’t really have anyone to go with,” she admitted shyly.
I laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”
She blinked at me in surprise. “Why?”
Smiling, I leaned closer to her to answer. “Because it amazes me that a woman as beautiful as you would ever be alone.”
A blush scorched her cheeks as her eyes went wide. That blush trailed lower, though, moving down her neck and across those perfectly perky breasts, and probably dipping lower than that, too. I wanted to trail it with my hands and my mouth.
“You’re so sweet.”
It was the second time she’d called me that, but I didn’t correct her. Instead, I lifted my glass and she mimicked me. We clinked them together and I watched the glass go to her lips, liquid spilling across her tongue. She took only a small sip, then made a puckered face. I laughed; she definitely didn’t drink much.
“No, no,” I told her, smiling not unkindly. “You need to take it all at once.” I wondered if she caught the innuendo, wondered how she could miss it with the husky lust lacing my tone, but maybe she did. “Let it slide past your tongue in one swallow. It’ll be easier.”
Doing as I suggested, she tipped her head back and downed the whole thing at once. She coughed a little bit and her eyes watered, but she didn’t have much trouble. After a moment, she laughed. “You’re right; it was easier.”
“Would you like another?” I asked her thoughtfully, tilting my head to the side to examine her better.
She thought about it a moment, then nodded. I waved the bartender over again.
Madeline didn’t make it through the second drink and I realized quickly that one was enough. She was suddenly very giggly, her face flushed and her eyes bright with liquor. Apparently, she had no tolerance at all, though I wouldn’t have called her drunk, just a little tipsy. I didn’t push her to drink any more, not wanting some sloppy drunk girl.
“What is that?” she asked.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”
She leaned forward, letting her hand slide over my chest. I felt a singe of heat race through me, but then realized she was trailing a finger over my medallion.
“Saint Nicholas,” I told her huskily. “He protects me in my…endeavors.”
“Like a guardian angel?” she asked innocently.
I smiled. “Yes, like a guardian angel.”
“Where are you from?” she asked me, leaning towards me so I could see deep down her dress.
“Originally, Russia, but I’ve spent most of my life in the States now,” I told her easily, letting my eyes roam over her form freely. She didn’t seem to mind.
“I thought that,” she told me, the added, “I mean, the Russia part. ’Cause of the accent. But it’s only a little bit—and it’s sexy anyway, so that’s good.” She was rambling a little bit and must have realized it, because she let out a sweet laugh. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear me rambling.”
I shook my head. “You’ve got a beautiful voice. I’d love to hear it say all kinds of things.”
She licked her lips, then laughed again. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Sexy Russian Nikolai?”
It was my turn to laugh. “How can I help it? When a woman as beautiful as you calls me sexy, I can’t turn down a perfect opportunity, now can I?”
“You think I’m beautiful? Like, really?”
I raised a single eyebrow. “Of course. I meant it when I said that I found it hard to believe you’re here alone. A woman like you should never be alone.” Getting bold, I reached out for her, my hand finding her leg just above her knee. It was bare thanks to the way she’d crossed her legs to sit on the bar stool and her dress riding up slightly higher than it would normally fall.
She sucked in a breath, but didn’t push my hand away. In fact, her eyes flickered over my face and shoulders and chest—maybe even down to my lap—before coming back to my eyes. “You’re…” She shook her head, then smiled. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“Only if you want me to,” I promised her, though my voice was low and throaty and filled with dark promises of the night we could have together.
She swallowed, then nodded. “I do.” She blushed.
My hand left her leg to find her delicate hand. I brought it to my lips, kissing the back of it lightly. She let out a fluttery, airy laugh as I stood up, bringing her with me. She swayed a little, but not to the point where I thought I would have to carry her if I wanted her to go somewhere with me. I led her to a darker, more private corner of the bar and she followed me willingly, even eagerly. When I found a relatively empty area, I backed her up into a wall, my hands finding her full hips easily.
She shivered at my touch. She licked her lips once before smiling up at me.
Des
ire pooling in my groin, I leaned into her, pushing her back farther into the wall as I bent down to her. My lips pressed against her and as soon as the contact was made, heat seared across my skin like fire. I was drunk on her before I even knew what was happening.
It was meant to be a light, teasing kiss, just a taste of what was to come, but at the feel of her soft lips I couldn’t restrain myself. I devoured her, my tongue seeking entrance into her mouth aggressively. Instantly, her lips parted and I swallowed a moan that slipped from her throat. My tongue slid over hers, tasting her, sweet and potent, like perfectly ripe apples. My hands gripped her hips tightly and dragged her to me, our hips crashing together. She must have been able to feel the hardness that suddenly roared to life at the feel of her and I briefly thought it might be enough to scare the shy little thing away.
But the thought fled almost immediately.
Instead of being scared away, her hands went to my waist, her delicate fingers slipping through my belt loops. Then she jerked me forward, urgent and surprisingly strong. A growl rose up in my throat at the action, starting low in my chest until it slipped out into her hungry mouth.
Her leg lifted just as I thought to slide my hand down lower onto her thigh. Perfect. She curled it around me so I felt her calf pressing against my rear, pressing and pulling me closer to her. My hand found bare skin finally and I slid it back up afterwards so I could slide the soft fluttery material of her white summer dress up her thigh, getting higher and higher until I felt the edge of her panties.
If it were possible, I got harder.
She moaned and I broke the kiss to slide my lips lower, licking and nipping at the bare flushed skin of her neck.
“Nikolai,” she breathed, desire and what might have been begging leaking from her voice.
I decided right then to take her home. I needed that dress off. I needed those panties I’d just found off. And I needed to bury my raging hard on in her more than I’d needed anything in a long time. “I’m taking you home,” I growled into her ear just before tugging on the lobe with my teeth.
She shuddered eagerly. “Yes,” was all she could get out, and it was enough for me.
Chapter 3
Madeline
I had been in the city for nearly four years now. I was on my last semester at school, nearly graduated, and it only just occurred to me the other night that I hadn’t done much in the city. My nights were filled with late night latte runs and more studying than could possibly be healthy for a twenty-four-year-old woman. I decided I needed to be out living my life. Yes, my degree in art was incredibly important to me, as was being here in the city at college. My father had made me stay two years after graduating high school to help with the failing farm—which I’d been okay with, because I loved him dearly—and it had only been by getting that scholarship and working hard that I’d been able to go to school at all.
But school couldn’t be the only thing in my life, right?
With this sudden realization in mind, I decided I needed a night out on the town. A town I’d barely even seen. I wasn’t a child anymore, so I decided I should go to the bar. I’d barely had more than a couple of drinks over the course of my entire life, thanks to my big brother, but I was of legal drinking age now and it was time to go out and experiment.
I didn’t know where to go so I did a quick search on the internet. Everyone said the best place in town was this place called Shadow—a place within a short distance, meaning the cab fare wouldn’t be outrageous. That was my destination, I decided.
It took about twenty minutes to get there and if I hadn’t been wearing the only nice dress I owned, I would probably have just walked instead of taking the cab. Most of that time was spent sitting in traffic, so I probably could have walked in the same amount of time.
The bouncer took a long time to convince that my ID was real—everyone was saying I still looked like I could be in high school, though I knew my breasts were large for an adult woman, much less a sixteen-year-old—but, finally, he let me in. I was flushed with excitement, the bar surprising me the moment I stepped in. It was dimly lit, and decorated with soft colors that reminded me of wine and midnight. I’d been thinking the place would probably be a loud, raucous place with bikers and bar fights and drunks slumped across the bar. I was relieved to see I was wrong; the place looked classy.
There were bunches of people around, women in fancy, slinky dresses who made me feel like I was still a girl in high school. Their faces were made up with smoky makeup and their hair was done perfectly, sexily. The men they were hanging on were older, but distinguished and still attractive, clearly wealthy in a way that I was certainly not.
I almost talked myself into leaving right then, but I reminded myself that this was about experiencing new things. I had to be brave.
So, I went to the bar, my eyes catching sight of a tall, dark man already sitting at the bar. He was the kind of gorgeous that made women’s knees weak and their hearts beat erratically in their chests. At least, that was how I felt.
I worked hard to be nonchalant, though I knew he probably wouldn’t even notice me. But I was wrong. He bought me a drink and as his sexy accent—Russian, I learned—slid over me like a lover’s caress; I knew I was lost.
I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander over his strong features, that hard jaw, those full lips, those long, dark lashes framing deep, dark eyes. I even let my eyes wander lower over his muscled chest encased in a dark button-down shirt that was almost too small, and lower still to his lap and the slacks that were just loose enough to let me imagine what might be hidden beneath the folds of fabric.
Things I wasn’t supposed to be thinking. Things I had never let myself think before.
But I thought them now. And I lingered on his mouth for a long time, licking my lips as I let myself wonder what it would be like to feel them press against me. I was blushing, I knew, but couldn’t make myself care. That drink had given me liquid courage, made me bold and flirty, and I liked it. I wanted to keep talking to him. And when his hand slid onto my leg, I wanted to touch him.
By the time my back was against that wall and his body was covering mine, I thought I might be going crazy. He had me burning up, my breasts heaving as I tried desperately to catch my breath and calm my raging heartbeat. But I couldn’t. His touch was like fire and passion, my own body responding to him eagerly. I wanted so much from him—everything from him. His hands burned through the thin fabric of my dress, leaving scorching handprints on my hips, making me wish there was less between us. And then his lips were against mine and I was lost. Lost, lost, lost.
His mouth devoured me, consumed me whole until I was his. I just knew it, felt it.
I felt wanton. Desire coursed through my veins like blood and the jackhammering beat of my heart pushed it faster through me until I was spiraling farther into lust. I didn’t care. This wasn’t me, had never been me, but I didn’t care. How long had I played by the rules, been the good girl? My entire life. Wasn’t I entitled to at least a small taste of the things I had been missing?
Maybe I thought so, maybe I didn’t. There was a good chance that I was just rationalizing the way I lifted my leg, bending it at the knee so I could hook it around Nikolai’s back, pulling him closer. I felt him hard against my thigh and felt a new sweep of lust pour through me. This was so new, but I didn’t care if my lack of experience showed or not. I wanted him, desperately.
His hand slipped from my hips down to my lifted leg, trailing until he found the bare skin of my thigh. I sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, electricity surging through me, my skin on fire. His hand moved back up again, but he’d found the hem of my dress and he took that with him. When his fingers brushed against my panties, in a place no man had ever been before, I might have whimpered into his mouth. I couldn’t be sure.
At the same time, he had broken our passionate, explorative kiss so he could drag his tongue hungrily down my neck. I shivered at the contact—at his tongue, his lips, his hands�
�and when his mouth finally made it to my ear, his hot breath washing over me like a caress, he said, “I’m taking you home.”
And this time I did whimper, only it came out in a velvety, lusty word, “Yes.”
The only downside to this I could see was he had to stop touching me. He pulled away, letting my leg drop back down to the floor, making me feel like I was standing on Jell-O, ready to collapse any moment. He then made a point of smoothing my dress back down over my thigh. A touch that was courteous and still made my blood boil with need. Taking my hand, he led me back through the bar filled with the rich and the beautiful, crossing the room to the exit. He led me outside to a black, sleek-looking car that was probably foreign and looked very expensive.
