Mister Weston

“What will it take?” he whispered, looking upset that we’d been interrupted.

“What will it take for what?”

“For you to leave with me.”

“Um...” Butterflies fluttered against my stomach and my heart raced at a completely foreign rhythm. I’d never been instantly attracted to any man I’d met in my life, never felt as if I didn’t need to talk at all, but this man was more than worthy of an exception.

“Is ‘um’ indicative of a yes?” he asked.

“No, it’s...Look, I don’t typically do one night stands.”

“Then we won’t call it a one-night stand.”

“A night of meaningless sex, then?”

“A night of fucking,” he said, his voice low. “A night of me owning your pussy on every single surface in my hotel room. If we make it past the alley, that is.”

I swallowed, knowing that no matter what this man said, I was going home with him.

“I’ll leave with you,” I said. “You just need to answer a few of my questions so I feel somewhat safe.”

“Okay, Gillian.” He looked amused. “Ask away.”

“Can you promise me that you’re not a psycho murderer?”

“I can promise you that I’m not a murderer.”

“What about the psycho part?”

“No comment.”

I laughed, but something told me he was only halfway joking. “Are you originally from New York?”

“Yes and no.”

“Someone named Jake once told me it can’t be both.”

He let out a low laugh. “My family is originally from New York. I was born in Missouri, but now, unfortunately, I’m back again.”

“Would you like to explain the unfortunate part?”

“Not particularly.”

“What’s your favorite type of woman?”

“What?” He raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“You know, blonde, brunette, redhead. Those types.”

“I’ve never had a type.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no way for me to tell what a woman’s pussy is like just by looking at the color of the hair on her head.” He ran his fingers through my hair for effect, rendering me temporarily speechless. “I’ve honestly never had a type, Gillian. Are those all of your questions?”

“No. I have three more.”

“I’ll answer two more.”

“Fine,” I said, my body begging me to wrap up this conversation. “How often do you pick up women at parties like this?”

“Not so often.”

“But often?”

“No.” He looked genuine. “Not often at all.”

“Okay...” I didn’t really have any other questions. “We can leave now.”

“You’re not going to ask another question?”

“No, the ‘but often’ one was number two. I know how to count.”

“Clearly.” He smiled wider than he had all night and pressed his hand at the small of my back, leading me through the crowd and out of the party.

We stepped onto the elevator, making way for a couple to get off, and the second the doors closed, Jake’s lips were on mine again and my back was pressed against the wall. Never wanting this moment to end, I wrapped my leg around his waist, gasping as I felt his hard cock through his pants, as I felt how huge it was.

My hands ran through his hair, and his fingers slipped under my dress and beneath the lace line of my soaked panties.

His fingers quickly pushed the fabric to the side and he whispered, “So fucking wet...”as the elevator continued to fall floor after floor. Slipping two fingers deep inside of me, he breathed against my neck. “My place or yours?”

“Mine...” I whimpered in pleasure as he withdrew his hand.

“I don’t think so,” he said as the doors opened on the ground level. He slipped his arm around my waist and led me outside. “I won’t be able to wait that long. I live closer.”

“Doubt that. I live closer,” I said, opening my clutch to make sure the keycard to 80A was still inside. “We can walk to my place from here.”

“Even if that’s true, I’d prefer to drive.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and hit the button, causing the bright lights of a black BMW across the street to flash. “How many blocks away is your place?”

“Four.” I smiled. “Closer than yours, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer. He led me over to his car and opened the door for me. Then he slid behind the driver’s seat and cranked the engine, causing the dashboard to light up in a bright array of blues and whites.

“Do I need to make a right or a left at the light?” He pulled onto the street and sped away.

“Right.”

He stopped at the red light and looked over at me, making me even more anxious. He didn’t say a single word, just simply fucked me with his eyes until the light changed.

We passed two more blocks and hit another red light.

“I take it your building is on Park Avenue?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Which one is it?”

“The Madison.” I pointed at the building as we approached, thanking the universe that the managers were throwing a shareholders’ party tonight. The valet was swarming with vehicles so I wouldn’t have to go through the front door and be questioned by the doorman. “You’ll have to park on the street somewhere. Only guests have parking passes and I’ve already used mine.”