J O R D A N
Excuse me? Fuck no.
“I will not have the Caesar salad, I would like the fillet steak with Brussels sprouts and some extra garlic bread on the side please,” I said and I closed my menu in the same fashion as Chris had done, smiling at him.
“Excellent choice,” Danny said and he took our menus, nodding a final time before walking away.
“I thought you’d like the Caesar salad,” Chris said, pouting like a child as I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“Well anyway...” Chris continued talking about himself, but I had zoned out, my gaze unintentionally going back to Pretty Boy at the bar.
He was still leaning against it, but he wasn’t alone anymore. To his left, was a beautiful woman with straight, dark hair and a perfect face, sitting on one of the stools, sipping her cosmopolitan and occasionally touching him on the arm.
How did she get so lucky? And I got stuck with this asshole.
My lips parted when Pretty Boy looked over, his brows raised and a playful look in his eyes.
I quickly redirected my gaze to Chris, who was still talking about himself, not even noticing that I wasn’t really paying attention.
And why was Pretty Boy looking at me? When he had this perfect girl at his side? With her perfect nails, perfect, full lips and perfect tits.
Meanwhile I’m here with my chipped nails and small boobs.
I was grateful when Danny returned with our meal, finally giving me something to focus on that was actually interesting.
“Thank you,” I said, the sweet and smoky smell of my dinner filling my nostrils. Fuck, I think I just had a mini orgasm.
I drowned out Chris’ babbling while I ate my meal, the salty and juicy flavors doing everything for my mood.
So far, I was going to smack Bailey for setting me up on this horrible date.
I tried to eat my steak as slow as I could, as Chris had barely touched his food, but it was so fucking good.
“But then he said that Angela was better fit for the job,” Chris continued and he chuckled softly. “As if a woman—”
He coughed when I raised my brows, waiting to see if the following words out of his mouth were going to be the last straw.
“As if she’s better than me,” he corrected, even though it was clear that he meant something else.
If it weren’t for the fact that I really needed him to pay, I would’ve left already. So I smiled painfully.
I managed to make it through dessert without crushing my teeth or ripping my hair out, but aside from the fact that Chris’ favourite topic was himself, he was also incredibly boring.
I almost cheered when he raised his hand, signaling to Danny that we wanted the check.
“I had a lovely dinner, Jordan,” he said as he took out his card, and I almost spit out the sip of my third martini that I was drinking, coughing and trying not to choke. Lovely din...
“Right,” I rasped, before downing my glass. Danny walked over, taking Chris’ card and settling the bill, giving me a pitiful smile when he walked away without a tip.
“We could set up a second date if you’d like,” Chris said, looking at me with hooded eyes, and I tensed up when I felt his foot go up my leg.
I really wanted to fuck, but definitely not with him.
My chair scraped across the granite when I pushed it back and stood up, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
“That would be a no,” I said, my eyes quickly shifting to the bar, not seeing Pretty Boy anymore. Eye candy gone too. Probably fucking miss perfect right now. Lucky girl.
Chris stood up as well, guiding me to the exit with his hand on my back, just above my ass.
“Well, I could at least take you home,” he tried and I sighed.
“Chris, someday you’re going to make a poor girl very happy, but it’s not me,” I said and I moved my mouth closer to his ear. “And we aren’t going to fuck either.”
I clearly hit a nerve, because he took a step back, looking down at me with a scowl.
“I wouldn’t fuck you in a million years,” he sneered and he stormed out of the restaurant.
Fuck, what a dick.
Never in my life have I been on such a horrible date. Does this douchebag think about someone else every once in a while? Or was he just this sexist, rich prick I got to know him as?
I made sure I had everything, before storming out of the restaurant myself, my face like thunder.
I just passed the bathrooms, when something solid crashed into me. Or did I crash into a wall? Jesus this wall smelled good. A woody, but sweet smell filled my nostrils, being a little different from the standard cologne I smelled on most men.
No, I crashed into Pretty Boy.
“Jesus, watch where you’re going,” I said, trying to keep my balance.
One of his hands grabbed my arm, holding me up.
“I could say the same to you,” he said and and I felt a little wetness coating my panties, hearing that deep husky sound.
I scoffed, looking up, and swallowed. He was even prettier up close. Yes, pretty, but in a manly way. And somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Please, don’t,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and pointer finger. “I’ve had the worst date of my life and I don’t need you making my day even worse.”
“I doubt I could make it worse,” Pretty Boy said smugly and I rolled my eyes. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He added and I looked up at him, seeing something different next to the playfulness in his eyes.
“Yes, what— Where’s your date?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Pretty Boy chuckled, the low rumble not helping my mission to give him the cold shoulder.
We were still standing in the middle of the restaurant, but at that point I didn’t care anymore. Not even when the hostess’ smile faltered, for the first time that night, when she looked at us. I won’t lie, it scared me a little.
“She left,” Pretty Boy said and I raised a brow.
“She didn’t like you?” I asked with a grin.
He smirked, looked me up and down and rolled his lower lip between his teeth before answering. “I had my eyes on someone else.”
Yeah, I was practically putty in his hands, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
“Is that so?”
“Hmm,” he hummed, his eyes scanning over my body.
We stood in a comfortable, but tension filled silence for a second, before he spoke again. “Well, how about I buy you another martini? To make up for bumping into you?” he cooed.
As if I was going to say no to a free drink.
“Alright then,” I said and Pretty Boy smirked before placing his hand on my back, at a more decent height than Chris’ touch.
We walked to the bar of the restaurant, and I climbed onto one of the stools, a little less elegant than I would’ve liked.
Pretty Boy ordered us drinks, somehow knowing exactly how I liked my martini. I honestly didn’t mind him ordering for me, it gave me another chance to observe him.
“One martini, drop in the lemon and no olives, please, and a whiskey sour for me,” he said and the bartender nodded, before gathering the necessities at lightning speed. I watched the bartender with great interest and admiration as he measured the ingredients and gracefully assembled our drinks.
I felt Pretty Boy’s eyes on me, and I looked up at him, narrowing mine.
“What?” I said, a little harsher than I intended to.
“Nothing. Can’t I admire something pretty?” he said and he nodded to the bartender, who handed him his drink.
You know how you talk about pick-up lines and that shit with your friends? And you say that they’ll never work on you? That you find them cheesy?
Well that’s the biggest lie of the century.
I shifted in my seat, taking my martini from the bartender and taking a big gulp, Pretty Boy raising his brows.
“Of course you can,” I chocked out and he chuckled.
He brought his drink to his lips and took a sip, looking over the rim of the glass with his icy eyes, making me squirm under his gaze.
Cold shoulder, Jordan. Cold shoulder.
I looked around the restaurant, my previous table clean and ready for a new batch of people, and the hostess sporting her almost never faltering smile, again.
“So, what did the guy do to get you so... angry?” he asked and I looked back up.
“He’s a sexist piece of shit, and cheap as well. Hold on.”
I placed my glass back on the bar and stood up, grabbing my last twenty out of my purse. I walked to the other side of the bar where Danny was waiting for drinks.
“Hi, Danny?” I said and he turned around.
“Hi, yes, how can I help you?” he asked and I handed him the twenty.
“Your tip, I’m sorry for the rude asshole I was with,” I smiled and Danny took the twenty.
“Thank you, Miss,” he said and I nodded, my smile faltering a little when I turned around. I walked back towards Pretty Boy and sat back down, fixing my dress and brushing a strand of hair out of my face.
“What was that about?” Pretty Boy asked.
“Dickhead didn’t give our waiter a tip,” I said and he frowned.
“Hmm,” he hummed and I emptied my glass. “Right,” he said and he did the same, handing the bartender a fifty and taking a step closer to me.
I could feel his warm breath on my face, and goosebumps appeared on my skin. His scent made me feel more drunk than the martini’s ever could, and I closed my eyes as he brought his lips to my ear.
“Are you coming home with me or what?” he cooed as he brushed a stray curl off my shoulder.
My panties were ruined, and I was in physical pain with how turned on I was.
“Only if you’re going to fuck me,” I said, shooting him a— I hope— sexy smirk, and lifting myself off the stool, pressing my body against his.
He chuckled and placed his hand on my lower back, guiding me out of the restaurant.
He hailed a cab and opened the door for me, waiting on me to step in, before he closed it and joined me on the other side.
After he gave the driver his address, which I immediately recognised as the rich part of town, Pretty Boy turned to me with a smirk.
“You’re a little tease,” he said, placing his big hand on my leg and softly caressing it.
Who was being the tease now?
I pressed my palms in the leather of the seats, holding my breath as Pretty Boy’s hand went higher and higher.
Thank fuck, the drive was short, because I was ready to ride him in the back of the cab when we arrived at his big apartment building.
Pretty Boy paid the driver and helped me out of the car, leading me into the gigantic lobby. I tried not to look around, admiring the white marble and sleek black desk the doorman sat behind, but I felt like a tourist anyway.
How rich was this guy?
Pretty Boy guided me to the elevator, where he swiped a card across a scanner and waited until I got in when the doors slid open.
As soon as the elevator doors closed again, I pulled his face down and pressed my lips on his. He was surprised at first, but grabbed my ass and pulled me against him, wrapping my legs around his waist.
I moaned against his lips as he squeezed hard, and I dug my fingers in his back.
“What’s your name?” he breathed through kisses and he pushed me harder against the elevator wall.
“Call me Baby,” I said and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in. I had no interest in seeing him again after tonight, and the fact that we were complete strangers to each other was kind of thrilling.
I was so ready to get fucked in this elevator, that I was almost angry when we stopped as the doors rolled open.
“Come on,” he said, putting me down and giving me a quick tap on the ass, before he walked out of the elevator.
I followed him out, and realized we weren’t in a hallway, but already inside his apartment. Pretty Boy dropped his keys on the table next to the door, as well as his watch that he had already taken off. I placed my small purse on the same table without looking, ignoring the fact that my stuff rolled out of it because I was distracted.
I took in his spacious, modern apartment, with lots of surfaces to get fucked on and against as soon as possible. My heels clicked against the beautiful hardwood floor, and I let my fingers glide over the perfectly white walls as I walked inside. The apartment had an industrial look, but nothing looked uncomfortable or useless, dark steel and wood creating an almost minimalistic look.
I hopped around, taking my heels off and kicking them under the table, feeling the cold floor under my feet as I continued to look around.
You could look over the city through the big, floor-to-ceiling windows, and I was getting a little upset about the fact that I promised myself this would be a one-time thing. Those windows looked perfect to get fucked against.
Speaking of fucking...
As if he read my mind, Pretty Boy grabbed me by the ass and lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist once again.
He pressed his lips on mine and I gladly returned the favor, the kiss almost a little aggressive. My hands roamed through his hair and down his back, feeling every inch of his muscular torso.
He pulled back and I pouted.
“What’s your safe word?”