We’re only half a mile from the restaurant, but running out of time, I slam the brake, stopping the car in the middle of the road despite the lights turning green at the junction ahead. I’m about to break a promise for the first time in my fucking life, but my word is the last thing on my mind as I round the car. I open the passenger’s side door, dragging Layla outside, no longer an ounce of patience left in me. There’s only feral, uncontainable anticipation. I don’t give her the time to push me away.
I cup her face, dip my head, and catch her lips with mine. Fuck… she tastes like everything that’s right with this world. Like sunshine, rainbows, and candy.
Adrenaline throbs in my limbs, sending a fit of shivers down my back. I slip my tongue inside the silk of her mouth, tasting her sweetness, fucking drunk on her already. The delicate touch of tiny hands grasping my neck titillates my nerve-endings like a live wire.
This isn’t cute or tender. Not how I imagined it’d be. Not how I wanted Layla’s first kiss to be, but there’s nothing I can do about the burning, primal need that consumes us both. Her floral scent, sweet lips, and the soft whimper escaping her strip me of any inhibitions I hoped to have.
I fucking devour her, pulling her closer. She grips a handful of my jacket, pressing herself to my chest; enough power in her kiss to light up downtown.
The cool evening air fills with blaring horns, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Fulfilling her wish is the most gratifying moment of my twenty-eight years. Merciless desire churns in the pit of my stomach when her fingertips ghost across my jaw. With that delicate touch, the kiss evolves… slows… deepens.
And I want more.
So much more.
Layla trembles in my arms, her body frail, hinting at the reaction I can expect when she’ll lay naked, spread-eagled on my bed, moaning, gasping, coming on my lips.
A deafening blare of a truck’s horn pierces the air, towering above other sounds. Layla flinches, moving away, but I’m not ready to let her go. Not yet.
Pulling out my gun, I aim at the incessant noise. It stops immediately, and all the other horns with it. We’re blocking the largest junction within a few blocks, so the drivers have every right to be pissed off.
Too bad I only care about the hungry-for-my-lips pretty little bug clinging to me for dear life. She’s not acting cool. Not by a long shot. She seizes the moment, taking handfuls of what I offer.
It’s fucking adorable.
I pull away, close her lips, peck her nose, and step back, loving how flustered she looks. “Happy Birthday, Star.”
She blinks twice, coming out of the haze, lips opening and closing as if too many words pile into a traffic jam on the tip of her tongue. There’s no escaping the ache shining in her eyes.
I kiss her again, groaning when I finally bite her lower lip. I’ve thought about it since last night, but imagination can’t compare to reality. Layla drapes one hand over my neck, forcing me closer. She’s on me like duct tape. I’d need to tug hard to break away, but a moment later, she inches back with a quiet, satisfied sigh.
Thank fuck for that. We’d be here until the police would arrive to have us removed because I sure wouldn’t find it in me to push her away.
“I won’t ever trust you again.” She fails at sounding irritated. “You promised.”
“You’re officially deflowered, Star. Well… your lips are.”
For now.
“Are you done?” She crosses her arms, gracing me with a pointed stare even though her eyes sparkle with fulfilled dreams. “Can we go now?”
As I take the wheel, joining the traffic, I can’t stop smirking. “How about thank you?”
“Thank you? What for? For invading my personal space? The tinnitus from all the horns? Or should I thank you for not keeping your promise?” She touches her lips with her index finger to check what changed.
“Stop sassing, or we won’t get far. Kissing keeps you happy and quiet.”
“So, you’ll keep kissing me if I keep talking back? We sure won’t get far.”
I oversteer, stopping the car by the curb. Layla bursts out laughing, the sound gentle, melodic, fucking hypnotizing. “Shut up, Star,” I mutter. “Shut up, or I won’t stop kissing you till dawn.”
She holds her breath, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips, but she doesn’t stay quiet long, giggling again when I drive away. I could listen to her for hours. It’d be best if she’d take turns laughing, hissing, and whimpering while I wring out an orgasm out of her.
She calms down a few blocks later, readjusts her dress, and brushes the long dark hair behind her ears. “Judging by the route, I’m guessing we’re not heading to Delta.”
“No. Why? Do you want to dance?”
A flashback takes me back to last night when she danced with Jake. She’s not like most girls her age I’ve come across. She didn’t writhe around the guy as if he were her pole. Her moves were soft, delicate, calm… I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. I have a hard time looking anywhere else when she’s close. To my surprise, I’m not staring at her ass or boobs.
That doll-like face is far more alluring. I’m doing my best to decipher Layla’s expressions, gestures, and the tone of her voice as if learning the meaning behind every frown and smile means I’ll be worthy of her.
“I wanted to hide from my nanny. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re being followed. They probably wouldn’t have caught up with us if not for the quick kiss.”
“Quick kiss?” I grasp her thigh, spreading my fingers as they sink into the smooth skin. “Stop teasing. It doesn’t take me much to snap. If you ask nicely, we’ll lose them.”
She folds her arms, seemingly unaffected by my touch. I call bullshit. Her cheeks grow pinker by the second.
“I’d think you wouldn’t want Frank to know where you’re taking me.”
What the hell is wrong with me? Layla’s attractive—pretty face, petite, curvy body, decent boobs. She’s sexy, but that doesn’t mean shit because her personality is far more arousing—the sass, the talking back, the godawful attitude. I don’t care about Frank, but I don’t want Adam or Burly standing outside the gate all night long. I change lanes, break traffic regulations, and take shortcuts, but Adam stays on my tail as if I’m towing him.
“Why are you doing this?” Layla asks.
“Be precise, Star. What am I doing?”
She turns to face me. “Why did you find me tonight? If you hope you’ll get something out of this, think twice. I don’t know much about Frank’s work, and as I’ve already mentioned, I’m not the light of his life. He won’t trade me for North.”
My intentions are clear. I’m not hiding how Layla makes me feel, and I sure hope to get something out of this, although not what she thinks.
A few turns later, my patience runs dry. I press a few buttons on the touchscreen, calling my right-hand man.
“What’s up?” Spades asks, laidback but curious.
“You and Nate take the beauties and meet me on the corner of eighteenth and Ashland in ten minutes.”
A small commotion ensues in the background.
My entourage is in the VIP section at the club like every Saturday evening. We gather there for a few drinks and wind-down time after a busy week. Tonight’s not an exception… but it is exceptional. When Layla texted she won’t come over for a drink, I ordered my people to find her.
Ten minutes later, two Chargers identical to mine pull out from the side street once we reach the meeting point.
“Beauties?” Layla asks.
“Get down, baby. Hold on.”
I switch places with Spades and Nate when Layla slides off her seat, bracing against the floor to stop herself from flying around the car like a corpse.
Adam’s not as stupid as he looks. He stays close behind me, but once my number one driver, Rookie, joins the party, drifting around Adam’s car in a tight circle, he has no choice but to stop.
I don’t slow down until we reach my estate.
Layla sits back in the seat while I park in the garage and kill the engine. She doesn’t move when I open the passenger door for her, clearly uncertain. I rest against the side of the car, lighting a cigarette.
“What about you? Why did you get in my car? You could’ve told me to leave you alone.”
“I tried that yesterday.” She toys with a few bracelets adorning her wrist. “You didn’t listen then. I doubt you’d listen today. Besides, thanks to you, I found a new way of annoying Frank.”
“Don’t you think if I wanted information out of you, I would’ve forced it out of you by now?”
She doesn’t look convinced but steps out of the car, stopping before me, her heels an inch from my shoes. “Maybe you’re waiting until I’ll trust you? Until I’ll let my guard down?”
“You said you won’t trust me again, Star, and I doubt you’re easily outmaneuvered.” I take her hand, leading her upstairs to the living room, our fingers laced together. Amazing how her tiny palm fits in mine.
She scans the vast space, dark décor, and the large, long bar taking the entire right wall. “I like this.” She points at the car parked in the corner.
“Nineteen sixty-seven Shelby. An eighteenth birthday gift from Dino.”
She drags her fingers across the bonnet while inspecting the room some more as if she wants to learn something about me without asking questions.
“What do you want to drink? Mojito? Wine?”
“Mojito, please.” She admires my music collection with a soft smile before she comes to sit at the bar, legs crossed, elbows on the counter. “Why did you kiss me in the middle of the road?”
“I thought you’d ask why I kissed you, period.”
“That’s obvious.”
“Obvious?” I smirk, reaching for the shaker.
“You like me. You like being the first guy who kissed me. You as a species strive to be first.”
Yes, yes, and hell yes.
“It was almost midnight. The kiss was a birthday wish come true, so I had limited choice of scenery.” I sit beside her, itching to drag her stool closer. “I still can’t believe no one kissed you before.”
“Was my inexperience not that obvious?”
I had no time to rate her skills, too busy with the emotions coursing through me like a quickly progressing disease. “You’ll get the hang of it.” Under my wing, it won’t take long. “Put the music on.”
She cocks an eyebrow, looking away nonchalantly. “Either change your tone or say please.”
Whenever she talks back, I forget how innocent she is. All I think about is ripping off her dress and thrusting deep inside her sweet, tight, virgin pussy. “Put the music on, Star. Please.” The word feels foreign, forgotten, unused for so many years it almost tastes bitter.
I tuck a Marlboro between my lips as the living room fills with a familiar melody. “Sam Smith?” I ask, recognizing the first notes of “Nirvana.”
“You have his CD. You can’t not like him.”
“I didn’t expect bedroom music.”
Her cheeks flush pink, and being two steps away from me, she spins on her heel.
I grab her hand. “Leave it, and don’t flatter yourself. I kissed you, but that doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you.”
“You do. We already established you like the idea of being my first.”
I will be your first, little bug. I let go of her hand to squeeze the glass. I’m fucking lost in her mindset. As the layers of her personality shine through, the physical attraction proves less significant.
“It was a surprise kiss,” she says. “You can’t pull off surprise sex. Consciously, I won’t let you touch me.”
I refrain from laughing. As if her personality and body aren’t enough of a turn-on, she has to show her rebellious nature too.
Fucking perfection.
Her phone starts ringing in her bag. “I’m sorry, it must be Adam.” She slides her thumb across the screen, pressing the phone to her ear. “I’m fine. I’ll be back home alive in a couple of hours. Tell Frank I said so—” Her lips fall open, eyebrows knot in the middle. She glances between me and the screen, chewing on her lip. “It’s for you,” she whispers, handing over the phone and showing me the screen.
Frank Harston
It’s been two years since we talked, but I expected a chat the moment I decided to find Layla tonight. “Frank. What do you need?”
“Stay away from my daughter,” he snaps through gritted teeth. “Let her go.”
“She’s not tied to a chair.”
“Send her home. She’s young and fucking stupid. She only sees you to piss me off. Leave her be.”
“That’s the one thing I can’t do for you.”
Or anyone else.
“She’s a fucking kid, Dante!” A loud bang suggests he slammed his fist on a table or some other flat surface. “You’ll let the snotty brat use you?”
You have no idea.
There’s not a single reason that would make me forget about Layla. In the brimming inventory of my flaws, one stops me from giving up—territoriality. By kissing me back, Layla showed she wants more than a drinking buddy for one evening. I’m a bit worried that I’m so possessive of her, but it’s also refreshing. I want her, and only she can tell me to leave her alone. Until then, she’s mine—a fantasy I hope to turn into reality.
“Like I said, she’s not tied to a chair. She can leave at any time.” I hand Layla the phone.
“Yes, Dad.” The disdain in her voice takes me by surprise. I don’t know why, but I expected her to be a Daddy’s girl. “He didn’t do anything!” she wails, her skin turning ashen. “You can’t boss me around! I’m all grown up!” She listens for a short while, then tosses the phone aside and storms out through the sliding patio doors.
Whatever Frank said, he hit a soft spot. He’s the most skilled manipulator I know. He can make anyone dance to his tune. He’s clever enough to fool his prey that they don’t even realize they’re being worked. My brainwashing skills can’t rival Frank’s, but I’d never manipulate Layla even if they did. I want her to, want to be mine. That’s not to say I’ll just wave a white flag. Especially now when she’s torn between reason and emotions.
I finish my drink and, determined to get ahead, I join her on the terrace.
