by Aspen Drake
“Thank you for coming.” Hilary almost falls into my lap trying to give me a hug.
“Yeah, of course. Thanks for letting me tag along. And congratulations on the wedding. He’s a lucky man.”
Everyone goes silent as Hilary stares at me before busting up in laughter. “Obviously, Mercy didn’t mention that I’m marrying a woman, but thank you. I appreciate the sentiment.”
I turn to Mercy with my most annoyed face, wishing I could drop her with the daggers shooting from my eyes. She just smiles innocently and takes a gulp of her drink. We both quickly down our first drinks, and Mercy pours us refills. By the time I finish the second one, I’m feeling warm and loose.
“I’m ready to dance.” I stand up and move in place to the fast beat as it vibrates through my bones.
Mercy takes the hint and quickly moves to my side, dragging me onto the dance floor.
The club is a lot busier than usual. People are pressed against me from every direction, and the music has a faster dance beat. I lean into Mercy and whisper, “Why is it so busy tonight?”
She turns her head to speak into my ear. “There’s a guest D.J. tonight. Guess who it is.”
I shrug. “No clue. Who?”
“Remember the host of that TV show we were watching the other night?”
My jaw drops as I remember who she’s talking about. “The gorgeous blond with those silver eyes?”
Mercy’s grin grows. “Yep. He’s supposed to start spinning at midnight.”
“Oh my god. That’s so cool. I love him.”
Mercy starts dancing again then leans into my ear. “Just keep your hands off my husband, and we won’t have any problems.” She winks and then does a half spin so her back is facing my front as she leans forward and shakes her butt in front of me. I give her what I know she wants and smack her ass a few times, laughing as the people around us hoot and holler.
I’m definitely not old, but I feel like it sometimes. Spin master XTZ is gorgeous, but he might actually be a little too edgy for me. I don’t know most of the songs he’s playing, and as soon as I do recognize a familiar beat, he cuts in a different song that I’ve never heard before. It’s actually starting to get frustrating. Mercy and Jeanea are dancing with a couple guys, so I head back to the couch for my second break in almost three hours.
Hilary looks like she’s about to fall asleep, but as soon as I sit down beside her, she perks up and reaches for her glass.
“Emma.” She wraps her hands around my arm and tucks her head into my neck. “I’m so glad you came. You’re so much fun.” Her words are slurred as she finds a comfortable position.
I’ve literally spent three minutes with the woman tonight, so I’m not sure how she knows I’m fun. But I smile and pat her hand gently. “Thanks, Hilary. I’m really glad I came too.”
She smiles for a second, and then it turns into a frown. “Am I not fun?”
“No!” I lift the arm she’s clinging to and try to tuck it behind her back in a half hug. “You’re a lot of fun. I’m having a great time.”
She’s beaming again. “I’m so glad. I don’t have a lot of friends, so I wasn’t sure how this night would go. But it’s been great.”
“Yeah. It’s great.” God, why do the drunk ones always glom on to me?
She closes her eyes and snuggles deeper into my side. A few of her friends come back for drink refills or just to sit for a minute. They seem relieved that I’m the designated bachelorette-sitter so they don’t have to be. Several girls snap photos of the bride-to-be curled up in my lap, but I ignore them. I just lean back and settle in to do some people watching. Everyone in the club looks like they’re having a great time. Lots of beautiful people with beautiful smiles.
As my eyes filter through the faces surrounding me, I’m startled to see a slightly familiar one staring back at me.
Sebastian James.
The man who listened to me pour my heart out about my financial woes and then gave me a $5,000 tip for dropping off a sandwich to his office. Although, I’ve been called back to James Lighting a few times to make deliveries, I’ve managed to avoid running into him each time. And I’m grateful for that because I have no idea what I’d say to him if we were ever face-to-face.
Like I am right now.
My only saving grace is that he’s walking with a group of guys, and I’m safely behind a velvet rope with an unconscious lesbian in my lap. My eyes track him as he passes, and whatever buzz I had going is instantly gone.
I stay with Hilary for a few more minutes before deciding it’s time to head home. The maid of honor is Snapchatting selfies on Hilary’s other side, so I lean forward to get her attention. “Misty, I think I’m gonna head out.”
She nods but then looks down at Hilary. “Oh.”
“Yeah, should I just lay her down here?” I gesture to the sofa we’re on.
Misty looks relieved as she nods. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” She probably thought I was going to shove her best friend into her arms. I probably should have, but she must have realized Hilary is down for the count and wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.
I carefully scoot across the cushion and lower Hilary onto the couch as I go. She mumbles something but doesn’t wake up. And although I’m not positive, I think she mentioned something about the room spinning. Which is definitely my cue to get the hell out of here. I give the other girls a quick wave goodbye, and then I go looking for Mercy.
When I find her, she’s making out with some guy who is just a few inches taller than her. He’s not her usual type, but they look good together and seem to be having fun. I step beside her for a minute, hoping she’ll feel my presence and come up for air. When she doesn’t, I tap her shoulder to get her attention. She startles before realizing it’s just me.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?” Her lips are raw and swollen. I’m kinda jealous.
“I’m gonna call for a ride back home. Are you okay here, or do you want to head back with me?”
She looks at her new friend for a minute then turns back to me. “Are you sure you can get home by yourself?”
Yeah, that’s what I thought. “Of course. Text me when you get home, okay?”
She nods, and I put my hand on her shoulder, giving her a little squeeze. “I mean it. Don’t forget to text me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mom. I promise.”
I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and then decide to get extra paranoid, pulling out my phone and snapping a picture of her and her new friend. I’m sure he’s not going to drug her and chop her up into bits, but you never know. And at least now I’ll remember what he looks like if I need to give a description to the cops. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad, but he doesn’t even seem surprised when I snap the photo then shove the phone back into my pocket.
“Be safe,” I say as I wave goodbye and work my way across the dance floor toward the front door. There’s a crowd bunched up around the exit, so I take a step back, looking for a way around the masses. When I feel a tap on my shoulder, I naturally assume I’m in somebody’s way and take a step to the side. But when that tap turns into a large hand closing around my shoulder, I flinch and instinctively look to see who’s touching me.
It’s him. Sebastian James.
He leans forward so his lips are practically touching my ear. “Can I buy you a drink?”
It takes me a minute to force my brain to respond with words instead of just a shocked stare, and when I do, I remember why I’ve been avoiding him. “Thanks, but I’m just trying to head out.”
His thumb glides over my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine. “Come on. Just one drink.”
He’s watching me so intently that I feel anxious about what he might see in my reaction. Will he think I’m being a bitch? Will he think I’m interested? Does he just feel sorry for me? I’ve had too many drinks tonight to be able to ponder his motives, so while I’m about to say no, my head bobs up and down. Before I can correct the misdirected nod, Sebastian
James graces me with a brilliant smile.
Damn. How can I say no to that?
Clearly, I can’t. So when his hand slides down my bicep, and he gives me a gentle tug toward his chest, I fall right into him. Loving every second of it.
“I have a table over here.” There are small booths tucked into corners throughout the club. Apparently, Mr. James has one reserved.
I follow him to a table and slide in when he steps aside. It’s U-shaped, so I slide all the way to the back, assuming he’ll sit at the edge and we’ll be at a ninety-degree angle from each other.
He doesn’t.
He slides in too, his thigh pressing against mine and his long arm brushing my shoulder blades as he rests it on the cushion behind my back. “What are you drinking?”
I shrug. “At this point, Diet Coke is probably my best bet.”
He smirks as if I’m joking. “Do you like champagne?”
What kind of question is that? “Yeah, of course.”
He pulls his eyes off me and signals with his hand to someone in the distance.
I follow his gaze, and I’m able to narrow down the recipient of his message to either the bartender or some punk-looking kid staring right at him. I assume he was talking to the bartender.
“You’re here with friends tonight?” he asks, obviously referencing the scene he witnessed earlier.
I nod and turn toward him but stop when I realize how very close he is to me. With Mr. James leaning into me, I can smell the liquor on his breath and feel the warm air puffing against my cheek as he speaks. I shift my weight and pull my left knee up onto the cushion so there’s not only some space between us, but so I can look into his eyes as we speak. “Yeah, a friend of a friend is having a bachelorette party.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “The friend you were sitting with earlier?”
I smile as I imagine what we must have looked like with Hilary curled up around me.
“No, that was the bride. My friend hooked up with some guy and is probably still out on the dance floor.”
He looks out into the ocean of people as if he’s going to recognize someone he’s never met before. “You didn’t find anyone to dance with tonight?”
I’m surprised by his question, and as soon as I open my mouth to speak, two champagne flutes are placed in front of us. A server fills our glasses then leaves a bucket of ice at the end of the table to keep the rest of the bottle chilled. Mr. James reaches for his glass and looks at me expectantly until I grab mine. Even though it’s filled almost to the brim, he tilts it slightly in my direction and waits for me to do the same. “To meeting new people.”
“Cheers,” I say quietly as my brain processes his words. I take a sip from the glass as I realize he might not know who I am. He’s really only seen me the one time, and I’m sure he doesn’t make a habit of paying attention to delivery people, but it still stings. If what his assistant said is true and he gives huge tips to lots of people, it’s very possible he has no idea I’m the same woman he listened to whining in an elevator then gave a bunch of money to.
A new level of mortification sinks in as I take another drink of my champagne, downing almost half the glass in one gulp.
Mr. James is watching me, and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “You like it?”
I can’t look him in the eye, so I whisper that I do and begin to twirl the glass on the table between my fingers.
“I’m Sebastian,” he says, confirming my suspicions that he doesn’t remember me.
I take a deep breath and glance at him. “Emma.”
“That’s a beautiful name, Emma. Is it short for something?” He shocks me once again.
“Yeah, actually, it is. But no one ever asks me that.”
His eyes hold me in their grip, and even though part of me wants to look away so he doesn’t have the opportunity to recognize me, I just can’t do it. “What is it short for?”
Ugh. I hate telling people my full name. “It’s silly and I hate it.”
His smile grows. “Now I’m really intrigued. Please tell me.”
I take a deep breath and force my eyes to the napkin on the table. “Gemma.”
His eyebrows rise at my response. “What’s wrong with Gemma? I think that’s a beautiful name.”
“I don’t know. I never liked it. When I was little, there were these dolls that all my friends played with and one was named Gemma. For a while, it was a cool name to have. But as soon as we outgrew the dolls, it was just embarrassing.”
“Kids can be cruel,” he says before taking another drink. “Parents too. Where did they come up with the name Gemma?”
Wow, he knows how to ask all the right questions. “My mom’s a bit of a…gypsy.” I hold in a laugh when he frowns. “Not like a real gypsy…like ethnically or whatever. But she has that transient spirit. She never stays in one place for long, and she’s always got some hustle or another going. I think when she named me, it was an homage to jewelry gods who would bring her wealth or some bullshit like that.” I take another sip from my glass, and my cheeks heat from admitting such a lame story about my mother. I never tell people about her crazy.
Because they might not say it to my face, but I know everyone wonders if and when my crazy will truly start to show.
Any remnants of amusement disappear from Sebastian’s face, and I see a tic in his jaw that almost makes him look angry. Or is that disappointment? He empties his glass into his mouth then turns to me. “Do you need a ride home?”
Okay. Not exactly what I was expecting, but it’s probably a good idea for me to get out of here. “No. I’ll just call an Uber.”
He shakes his head and reaches for my hand. “I’ll have my driver drop you off.” He’s already sliding out of the booth and dragging me behind him before I can protest. I vaguely notice him on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.
“You have a driver?”
He practically glares at me before looking straight ahead as we maneuver through the crowd.
Chapter 8
Sebastian
Her mom is a hustler. I don’t really know how to process that information. I should drop Emma off and go my separate way, but I’m pretty sure she’s into me. And I definitely wouldn’t mind having a go with her. The tension is high in the back seat as we drive down the quiet streets toward her place. Emma has her hands tucked in her lap, trying to take up as little space as possible in the Bentley.
Gentry isn’t my full-time driver, but I use him on occasion when I know I’m going to need a ride. This was one of my father’s cars, but I gave it to Gentry. I wouldn’t be caught dead driving this monstrosity, and it was his baby since the day it was delivered from the dealership.
“This is me.” Emma points to a run-down apartment complex on the bad side of town. When Gentry is close to the curb, Emma turns to me and holds out her hand to shake. “Thanks for the ride.”
I grab her hand with my right one then lean across her body and open the door with my left. “I’ll walk you up.”
She scoots out of the car, and I follow her, closing the door behind me. She stills on the sidewalk and puts her hand on my chest. “That’s not necessary. I’m just right upstairs.”
Ignoring her, I place my hand on the small of her back and urge her forward. “This door?”
“Yeah.” She digs through her purse until she finds a key to open the outer lobby entrance. I’m disappointed by the low security but not shocked based on the condition of the building.
When we get inside, Emma tries to send me on my way again, but I’m not having it. “I’ll get you to your door.”
She rolls her eyes, but not before I glimpse a spark of interest that sets my cock at attention.
I’m surprised that the elevator works and grateful for the mirrored walls within it. They come in handy as I lean against the back with my eyes glued to Emma’s reflection. She shifts her weight as if feeling uncomfortable, but when I look at her eyes, I can see that she’s watching me too.
But not my face. Her eyes are directed south, right where my growing cock is pressing against the fabric of my pants.
I flex my ab and groin muscles and make my dick twitch in my pants. Her eyes light up, confirming that she is staring. When her eyes meet mine, she knows she’s been caught. The door opens on her floor and she rushes out, hurrying down the hallway to apartment 505.
When she gets there, she turns to me and leans back against the door.
I know exactly what she’s going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. I take a step forward so we’re chest-to-chest with my palms planted on the door just outside her biceps. She’s caged in beneath me. I feel her shudder at our proximity, and she swallows hard before pulling her gaze from my mouth up to my eyes.
“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you around.”
My eyes dart to her mouth, and when her tongue sticks out to moisten her lower lip, I give up any shred of self-control and press my mouth to hers, kissing her hard. Her hands move to my waist then fist around my shirt, holding me in place. That’s all the permission I need. My tongue slides against her lip, asking for entrance. When she grants it, I don’t waste any time diving in. Her taste is sweet like the champagne with a floral hint. When she tilts her pelvis so she’s rubbing against my shaft, I know it’s time to take things inside. I wrap my hand around her arm and slowly drag it down until I feel the keys she’s still clenching beside my shirt.
As soon as I have the keys, I pull away from Emma’s mouth so I can get the door open. The door is barely closed before she flings herself into my arms again. Instinctively, I lift her by her ass, and she wraps her legs around my waist, riding me as I stumble toward the hallway.
There’s a low light on in the back room, so I head in that direction. The bedroom is small, but it’s perfect for our purposes. I place Emma gently onto the bed and hover over her, rubbing my hard cock against her center as she writhes beneath me.
“Oh god, that feels so good.”
“Do you want to feel me inside you, Emma?” She moans and reaches for the hem of her dress, quickly shimmying it over her head and onto the floor.
