The Virgin's Sexy Lovers

Kendra Banks had a lot going through her mind.

If she had to be entirely honest with herself, a night out at a club was at the very bottom of her list of things to do.

Her best friend, Mikaela, however, promised her that a night out was just the thing she needed.

Their first round of drinks was served by the cute bartender that Mikaela called dibs on.

Kendra giggled as she lifted her martini from the table, folded one leg across the other, and looked around herself.

It’d been months since she’d seen the outside world, and even if she didn’t want to admit it, it felt nice to see new faces, have her eardrums full of the thumping dance music, and have her best friend complain about the last man she dated.

“What a scumbag!” She rolled her eyes. She shifted closer to Kendra and sighed. “What about you, Ken?”

Kendra groaned. The only thing bothering her more than male troubles was the fact that she was struggling to find a job decent enough to pay all those bills she accumulated in university.

“I think I’m just bad luck,” she admitted with another heavy sigh, startled when her friend sat up pin-straight, her eyes narrowed ahead of her.

“Fuck me!”

“What’s wrong?” Kendra asked, confused. But her confusion only lasted long enough for her to find the source of her friend’s frustration.

Strolling towards them, was a man wearing what appeared to be an expensive suit. Chanel? Vuitton? Kendra couldn’t guess. She’d never had the privilege of fine clothing.

The knot of his tie hung low, the buttons on the collar of his crisp white shirt undone. Around him were three women; two blondes and a brunette. They looked like bees buzzing around a nectar pod.

It was only as the golden-haired man came closer, that either of them recognized each other.

Kendra felt her heart squeeze in her chest but remembered Mikaela sitting next to her, and tried her best to seem unbothered.

“You remember my brother Alastair, right?” Mikaela’s voice was laced with irritation as she stood up and Kendra followed with a nod.

Alastair, with his swarm of bees, took a seat across from them, his eyes narrowed at Kendra.

“How can I forget?” she murmured to herself, although it was hard not to feel conscious about her entire being as Alastair’s green eyes trained on her.

Damn. He was still as hot as ever, she thought, only now he’d grown up, lost the baby fat. His features were sharper now, his jawline so distinct. Kendra imagined it could slice through glass.

He also appeared to have buffed out a little more than memory served her, sculpted in all the right places.

Kendra and Mikaela returned to their place on the couch. Mikaela’s irritation was obvious in the way she gulped down the rest of her martini instead of her usual sipping.

Kendra didn’t bother to pick her own drink up. She was fixated on how much Alastair had changed. And how much he hadn’t.

“Wow.”

He sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Kendra noticed how much of his chest was visible and gulped.

The three women in his company had their hands all over him, clinging to what was left of their dignity. Clearly, Alastair’s attention had been snatched by the plain girl they’d only just met.

“How long has it been, Kenny?”

“F-four years,” she replied. Alastair had left to continue his studies in England, and Kendra hadn’t heard from or seen him since. By the looks of it, he’d changed a lot.

“Damn!” he said, his voice tinged by the influences of a British accent. “Then we should celebrate, don’t you think?”

“What do you want here, Alastair?”

“This is my club, after all.”

Alastair kept his eyes on Kendra when he said that as he tried to gauge her reaction. She seemed unbothered. Mikaela chirped in a reluctant, “sure”, and waved over a waiter.

Mikaela groaned. Had she paid more attention to her brother’s gloating, she would have realized that The Phantom was one of his many investments.

Neither Kendra nor Alastair broke eye contact, the memories of that one night flooding both their minds. Not even the women caressing and fawning over Alastair were able to take his attention off Kendra.

Gone was the bob she used to model, in its place were long tresses of silky black hair.

Even her eyes weren’t as naive as they once were. There was something so mature in those hazel depths, but Alastair just couldn’t figure out what it was.

A tray of shots was placed on the low table, but as each of Alastair’s women picked one up and waited for him, Kendra picked up her martini and unconsciously slipped the olive between her lips, a finger circling the rim of her glass.

But it wasn’t a gesture only Alastair noticed. Across the room, at the bar, Alastair’s best friend watched keenly.

He’d only ever heard about her once. Mikaela’s best friend, who tore Alastair’s heart to shreds - an admission made one night during a drunken stupor when they first met in university.

The man at the bar, wanting to indulge in his curiosity, sauntered forward with his beer in hand. Alastair and his ladies threw their heads back for the first shot when Alastair caught sight of his friend.

He handed his empty glass to one of the ladies and waved with a giant grin on his face.

“Remember I told you about Lawrence?” Alastair excitedly tossed at his sister. “Here he is!”

The very tall, broad-shouldered man joined them at the table. He took a seat on the empty sofa - not the one with Kendra and Mikaela, or the one with Alastair and his lady friends.

“Lawrence is my best friend,” Alastair boasted, “and business partner of sorts.”

“Hardly,” Lawrence chuckled. “You’re the money behind everything.”

“And you’re the brains, my friend.”

There’s something about this whole thing that reminded Kendra about that one fateful night when a kiss between her and Alastair almost led to more.

Almost.

If it wasn’t for Mikaela, Lord knows what would have happened that night.

Except, now, with three pairs of hands milking him for attention, her own attention went to the man named Lawrence, whose blue eyes seemed to search her soul.

A frizzle of awareness shot down to her core, but luckily for her, Mikaela returned to their conversation before they were interrupted.

“Why do you say you’re bad luck?” Mikaela asked as she downed another shot. Kendra picked up her own, hesitating to drink.

“It’s been almost six months of searching, and all my applications come back with a rejection.”

“Just do what you’ve always wanted to, Ken.”

“Open my own studio?” Kendra scoffed. “And where do you think I’d get enough money to do that?”

“From me, of course,” Alastair chimed in. “I have all the money you’ll need,” he said with his arms stretched out on either side of him as if he was God himself.

“Since when are you so generous?” Mikaela rolled her eyes.

“Not generous. It comes with a price.”

“Everything Alastair does comes with a price,” Lawrence said, his eyes never leaving Kendra’s face. He couldn’t read her yet, but there was something about her that drew him there.

“I’ll figure my own shit out, thank you very much.”

That was what Lawrence could feel - her need to be independent.

He couldn’t hide his amusement as he watched Alastair’s brows furrow as he’d just been rejected. Women never turned down his charms or his money.

“It would be easier to take my money, all you’d have to do is sleep with me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, playing off the fact that she was one of the few who didn’t pant at his feet at the offer of money, or the chance to sleep with him.

“Watch your tongue, Alastair Ford!” Mikaela stepped in.

“Come on, sis. She could do with a change of wardrobe too. It must be boring wearing thrift store clothes all the time.”

Laughter filled the air as Alastair’s airheads giggled. One of them whispered something in his ear, and he laughed along with them. But he couldn’t take his eyes off Kendra.

No matter how hard he tried to act steely, pulling up those defensive bars, he couldn’t deny that seeing her again sparked something inside him.

Something he had buried between the bosoms of a long line of every other woman who wasn’t her.

What happened next, happened so fast that not even Lawrence saw it coming, even though he couldn’t take his eyes off Kendra.

She stood up and flung the contents of her glass on Alastair’s face, before setting the glass down and walking away as if nothing happened.

Alastair wiped at his face, shocked. “Whew!” he whistled through his lips.

Mikaela stood up and grabbed him by the collar, her eyes dark with anger. “You better not fuck around with Kendra. I’m warning you!”

“You can’t control me. Or her for that matter,” Alastair spat back.

“You’re just a player, Alastair. You don’t have any right to want to break her heart. I’ll break your face if you do.”

Alastair didn’t retort, just swiped at the whiskey on his face until one of his ladies passed him a napkin.

Lawrence’s lips played into a smirk. He couldn’t believe that someone finally stood up to his narcissistic friend.

Leaving the group of girls to fuss over Alastair, and Mikaela to shoot daggers at her brother, Lawrence followed Kendra to the dance floor. To say he was intrigued would be putting it mildly.

He’d never met someone as ambitious as he once was. And someone besides himself who would turn down an offer from Alastair Ford.

He saw Kendra dancing by herself, her feminine hips swaying to the electric beat of the music.

He bumped his head to the beat as he slid his way towards her, but as soon as she saw him, she stopped.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her arm. He was met with a glare that was determined enough to slap him.

“If you’re here to defend your friend, I’m leaving.”

Lawrence didn’t let go of the grip he had on her wrist. He looked into her eyes, and something she saw in his told her he was there to dance, nothing more.

“Just because we’re friends, doesn’t mean I condone his ways,” Lawrence admitted and released Kendra’s arm. She nodded, and a nod turned into following the beat of the music.

Something felt so extraordinarily normal about dancing with the handsome man, how he raked his fingers through his silky raven waves, and how he looked at her like he’d known her all her life.

As the seconds ticked by, Kendra lost herself to the beat on the dancefloor, and it felt good to feel Lawrence’s hands on her waist as they writhed rhythmically to the music.

He spun her around to face him, and she wound her arms around his neck as the beat had their hips swaying in unison.

She forgot all her troubles for a moment, all the things that worried or stressed her out, she even forgot about Alastair and that one night when he had his face buried between her legs - a night she thought she’d never forget.

And at that moment, it was only Kendra and Lawrence, whose lips were so close, they could feel each other’s breaths.

Kendra closed her eyes, expecting what was to come, her body moved closer as did his. But then the moment was lost as soon as the DJ faded the music into a slow song.

“I’m sorry.”

Kendra quickly removed her arms from Lawrence’s neck and rushed off the dance floor in search of Mikaela.

He didn’t leave just yet - still stunned by how much a woman he just met captivated him. He smiled to himself and shook his head.

In the distance, someone else was watching Kendra.

She wasn’t mesmerized nor captivated but annoyed by her presence.

She watched as Kendra danced with some handsome guy, and witnessed how close they were to kissing, and it made her sick.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a clear packet containing some white tablets, then waved over a waiter.

“Strawberry Daiquiri, please,” she ordered with a sadistic smile as she watched Kendra make her way back to the private couches.

~*~