Page 7 of When love and Hate Collide

“No, I am, but I moved away for Uni a couple of years ago."

“Nice, what are you studying?”

I turn my gaze to look at him and smirk, resting my arm on the bar. We hold eye contact for a moment and when I don’t say anything he chuckles amused, “Okay,” he utters leaning against the bar also. “Either you’re not much of a talker or you just don’t like to give much away.”

I lick my lips, smiling. I shouldn’t even be entertaining this. I’m absolutely not ready to jump into anything with someone new, but at the same time I’m in desperate need of a distraction and this gorgeous boy has the promise of giving me just that. “Perhaps, or I’m just being vigilant and don’t want to share my whole life story with a complete stranger.” I tell him, taking out the swizzle stick and deliberately suck it clean. Sexy bar boy’s green eyes lower to my mouth and he watches me fixedly.

“I assume there would be no point in asking your name then?” He questions, leaning in closer to speak directly into my ear, his warm breath tickles the back of my neck making me judder a little inwardly.

“Your assumption would be correct.” I affirm, tilting my head back so I could look up at him when he draws away slightly. “Why don’t you pick a name for me?” I suggest, brushing the swizzle stick along my lower lip.

A dark brow lifts, and he licks his full lips while his emerald gaze scans my face pensively. “I don’t play games, sweetheart.” he points out evenly and I smile, lowering my eyes to my drink.

“That’s too bad,” I reply coquettishly and shrug. “Because I’m definitely in the mood to play andyou…” I add suggestively, my eyes openly roaming down the length of him and back up again. “…strike me as the type that would make a terrificplaymate.”

He regards me closely, the corner of his lips lift into a cocky smirk. “You’re spot on with your judgement there, baby girl. I am an exceptional playmate with impeccable stamina to boot.”

My neck starts to heat up when he drags the tip of his tongue along the pillow of his lower lip and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly.Keep your composure, Jeyla. “Hm, I don’t know. I may require some more convincing.” I state roguishly. God, the alcohol must really be kicking in because I’m not usually this bold—especially with men I don’t even know.

“That can certainly be arranged.” He drawls sidling a little closer to me until his chest only just touches my bare shoulder. I quiver inwardly when he reaches up and brushes my hair over my shoulder. My brain fleetingly marvels at the firmness of his pecs pressed against me. I mean, I’m no gym buff, but its evidently clear to anyone with eyeballs the boy is in damn good shape and packing quite the muscle mass, not to mention definition under that tight t-shirt.

And I’d be the world’s biggest liar, if I didn’t admit I wasn’t itching to find out what he’s got hiding under that outfit.

My horned-up brain gets away from me for a moment, so I discreetly shake off the lewd thoughts that are flooding my mind. I inhale and his aftershave once again makes me want to moan aloud. Sultrily biting down on my lower lip, I lift my eyes up to his, “So, convince me then.”

Those soft, tasteful lips curl into a sexy smile and his eyes scan the area before they veer back to look at me again. “Here?” he responds peering down into my upturned face.

“Right here,” I reply and lean into his ear. “Unless of course you’re just full of hot air like your little friend,” I draw back a little and almost grin when I see the daring look in his eyes.

“Come with me.” I stare down at his hand when he holds it out to me for a beat before I take it and follow him to the dance floor. We squeeze through the crowd of people dancing heatedly together, he pulls me in front of him, a strong arm snaked around my midriff while we move to the centre of the dance floor. The dance floor is so packed we barely have space to move.

The songs changes to Destination Calabria, and I gasp when he pulls me until my back is pressed against his solid chest. The main lights in the club dim and the blue and green neon lights rotate through the club. “How bold are you, baby girl?” he murmurs lazily in my ear while we slowly start to sway together to the beat of the music. The deep timbres of his voice combined with the heat of his breath against my ear causes me to quiver a little. “How far are you willing to let me go?” My eyes close and I bite down on my bottom lip when his fingertips skim over the exposed flesh of my midriff, leisurely moving to the dip of my waist.

“I’m going to finger you, right here on this dance floor, with all these people around.” He affirms, his fingers sliding down my upper thighs. “If you would like me to stop, now is your chance.” His fingers halt, his thumb drawing slow circles on my inner thigh, giving me opportunity to stop him.

My brain is scrambled half from the alcohol swimming in my veins and the other half from the desire budding deep within my groin. I can’t think straight, nor can I focus on anything but the way he’s touching me. My heart is racing a hundred miles a second, but I do absolutely nothing to stop him—if anything my legs audaciously, and on their own accord, widen for him.

The club may be dimly lit, but anyone around us can look over and see his hand up my skirt.A quivering breath escapes me when I feel his fingers brush over the silk of my underwear, which is now damp.

Bloody hell, Jeyla, what the hell are you doing? You’ve known this boy less than ten minutes and he’s got his hand up your skirt.

The rational voice in my head is screaming at me to stop him and I almost reach up to grab his hand but when he presses his finger against my clit and strokes in slow circles through the thin material of my thong, I lose all good sense and succumb to the pleasure he is gracing me with.

“Already so wet for me,” he groans gruffly, nipping at my ear teasingly. “I bet your pussy tastes fucking luscious, too.” My stomach flips and tightens at his affirmation. I rest my head on his chest when his fingers deftly push aside my underwear, and he slowly feeds a finger into me.

I still instantly and there is no containing the whimper that secretes from deep within me when that ripple of euphoric pleasure fires through me. A shiver cascades down my spine when I hear him hiss and suck in a breath through his teeth against the shell of my ear. “Oh, baby girl, that’s a tight little cunt.”

I come apart for him quicker than I have any other man. Each deep thrust of his finger and stroke of my g-spot sent me hurdling toward the earth-shattering release I’m frenziedly questing.

“That’s it, sweet girl, ride out that orgasm for me,” he groans throatily, nipping at my ear while I helplessly quake in his arms, my fingernails digging into his forearm as the pressure builds and builds until I finally go over and climax with a muffled whimper.

“Oh God,” I cry out, rocking my hips back and forth, riding out the orgasm until it slowly disappears, and I slump against his strong frame practically legless. If it wasn’t for his arm that is currently wrapped around me holding me up, I would have crumbled to the floor, my knees are shaking that forcefully.

“Fuck, I wish I could have seen your face when you came apart for me. I bet you look just as sexy as you sound,” he rasps, slowly drawing his finger out of me and lifting it to his lips to suck off my arousal. My jaw slackens and I watch him fixedly suck his finger clean, his green eyes close and he hums in appreciation, and I curse the damn music when I don’t hear the sound but only feel the tremors travel right through me.

I absolutely won’t sleep with him, but perhaps a little fun wouldn’t hurt. I’ve been in such a funk and in desperate need of a distraction the last couple of weeks that I’m tempted to bite the bullet and have a little fling with him to aid that dull ache I’ve been trying to hopelessly quell.

Between the alcohol I consumed, the orgasm and the deep timbre of his erotic voice my brain is fried. I couldn’t muster up two words in response. When my legs stop feeling so unsteady, I spin so I can face him and inwardly I’m squealing that he’s a good foot taller than me. I’m five-foot six and if I had to guess he’s about six-foot give or take an inch. Good grief his eyes aresobeautiful—a captivating, deep jade green with flecks of gold around the iris, lined with thick dark lashes that are also naturally curled.I want to cry, who gave you the right to have such pretty freaking eyes?

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