Famous. last. words.
I think we do six shots in total before moving back to vodka and Red Bull. We’re all laughing and dancing and just being generally stupid, which is just what I needed. I’m too smashed to think about my missed competition or my absent friend. I’m just feeling the music and the magical hum in my veins that numbs the bad and heightens the good. I’m a happy drunk.
On the packed dance floor, hot bodies press together, gyrating away to the music under the constant flashing lights.
Elliot and I break away from the rest of the group, my arms wrapped around his neck, our hips grinding. Grabbing a hold of my head to still my movement, he places his mouth on mine and devours me. Long deep satisfying kisses that travel down my neck and back up to my mouth. I need more. I need to feel how much he wants me, test how far he’s willing to go. I want him so turned on he loses control, willing to take risks, just to have me. Call me crazy, call me conceited, but when I writhe against him, feeling his public arousal press against my pelvis, I place my hand on his crotch and rub him through his jeans.
I feel a vibration as he moans into my mouth and pulls my body closer to his, gripping my behind and letting his hand travel under my dress to rub between my legs. A sense of triumph sets my body on fire as I lift my leg and wrap it around his waist, pressing myself against his erection, wondering how far we can take this. He grips my buttocks tightly and presses himself harder against me, groaning as we dry fuck to the music in the middle of a crush of bodies.
Needing more than mere friction, the alcohol removing any concern for what I’m about to do, I reach between us and undo his zipper, sliding his erection out and taking it inside me via the side of my panties. We both gasp as we make contact, never breaking the connection between our mouths. I keep my leg up and wrapped tightly around his waist as we move our hips together. My head is filled with a rush of desire, the risk of being caught, and the dizzying effects of the alcohol in the thump of the music. It all makes this so much more intense and pleasurable, and the act chases all of my thoughts away. I can only focus on what’s happening right in this moment. Bliss.
He groans into my mouth as he comes, and I experience a sheer rush of adrenaline, enjoying what I do to him. What we do to each other. I can’t help but delight in the fact this gorgeous hunk of a man, the man so many other women wanted, has chosen me. Me. The girl who always gets left behind. He chose me…
“Holy fuck, Katrina,” he moans in my ear. “See what you do to me?”
I grin as I put my leg back down and he slides out of me, straightening himself up as discreetly as possible. He holds my face in his hands and grins wildly at me, laughing and shaking his head before he kisses me again. The joy in his eyes, the sense of being the centre of his world gives me a great sense of belonging as we continue to dance and kiss and touch each other, ignoring everyone else around us. There’s only us. I can be happy with this man.
By the time my mouth has gone dry, I feel a little less drunk. I tell Elliot I need some water, and he immediately volunteers to get me some.
“I’ll meet you at the bar,” I say. “I should visit the ladies’ room to clean up a little.”
He nods. “Still in a funk?”
I shake my head. “Definitely not.”
He kisses me briefly, then we head in opposite directions, holding on to each other until we can’t reach anymore. We can’t wipe the smiles from our faces.
When I reach the ladies' room, the line is snaking towards the door as it typically does in nightclubs. While I wait, I spot Stephanie talking to another girl while she touches up her makeup. Noticing me too, she smiles at me via the mirror then joins me in line.
“You look like you’ve been having a good time.” She gives me a knowing grin and I wonder if she noticed anything on the dance floor.
“I am drunk off my head. But I’m having a blast.”
“I love how much Elliot adores you.” She sighs and touches her chest lightly. “You’re literally the only person he can see. It’s beautiful.”
“Surely I’m not the only girl he’s ever been with.”
She shrugs. “Not like this.”
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks.
“I hear you’re Elliot’s girlfriend?” The girl Stephanie was chatting to holds out her hand to shake mine. “I’m Jasmine.”
“Katrina.”
“You have to tell us; how did you land Elliot? He never goes out with any of us—not through a lack of trying on our part.” Jasmine laughs, and Stephanie lifts her eyebrows in a ‘told you so’ expression.
“I didn’t do anything special. We just get along.”
“Yes. But I get along with Elliot too. What makes us so different?” She doesn’t seem to be saying this to be snide. There is more of a genuine curiosity behind her words. I have to admit that I can see where she’s coming from. She really is a gorgeous girl, with dark chocolate eyes, honey-kissed hair and full lips. She is probably a head shorter than me and has the classic hour-glass figure that men drool over. I can understand that when you look like her, you’re used to having men all over you. So, when a guy doesn’t give you the attention you’re after, it could be a little confronting.
Compared to her, I feel enormous and awkward. I get my fair share of attention from men, but it’s rare that I get that attention from someone who’s taller than me. Normally, I find that the tall fit men I’m interested in, are attracted to girls who look exactly like the one standing in front of me. David was a prime example of that…David. David who loves me. David who would rather run away than fight for me. David. Fuck.
“Jasmine!” Stephanie chides, snapping me back to the present. “You can’t say that.”
“What? I’m not being mean, I’m just wondering is all,” Jasmine says, wide-eyed.
“I’m not offended, it’s fine. I understand. But I guess I can put it down to mutual interests: we train together at lunchtimes, and everything just kind of progressed from there.”
“Ah, see? I knew there had to be something special about you—you’re a fitness nut too,” she says, waggling her finger at me and smiling like she broke the code.
I laugh, and then it’s my turn to use the toilets, so I tell them I’ll see them out there. When I finish and leave the cubicle, I almost laugh aloud when I see my reflection in the mirror. My mouth is all red from all the kissing earlier, and my hair is slightly messed up with my smoky eye looking more like a panda eye. I pat some water over my face and wipe a damp paper towel under my eyes. The girl next to me offers me her lip-gloss and I happily accept, applying it before I smooth down my hair and teeter back out to the dance floor feeling slow and light-headed.
Holy shit. I’m more drunk than I thought.
Making my way over to the bar, I can’t see Elliot. I look towards the tables we were sitting at earlier and find him there talking to Brad and Gary. When he sees me, he smiles, holding up the bottle of water he’s gotten for me. I walk over to him and take it, gratefully drinking half of it. Waiting for me to screw the lid back on, he pulls me down to sit on his lap, absent-mindedly caressing my thigh as he continues to talk to his friends.
A few others come over to join us, and some of the girls ask me if I want to go and dance again while the men all talk and drink. I’m about to go, but Elliot tightens his grip around my waist and implores me to ‘stay’ before kissing me behind my ear. My heart flips with emotion and the intimacy of that one word.
He wants me to stay. He won’t let me dance alone.
Emotion pricks my eyes, and I press against him just that little firmer, feeling that the closer I am, the less heavy my heart is.
When the club calls last drinks, we all head outside together. Some want to continue to party elsewhere, while others say their goodbyes and make their way to the taxi rank. Elliot’s friends are so kind and complimentary towards me and say they hope to see me again soon. “Same here,” I say.
Elliot puts his arm around me, and we walk over to jo
in the queue so we can catch a taxi back to his place. “Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks. “No more funk?”
“No more funk,” I repeat, smiling up at him. “Your friends are really nice. Thanks for introducing me.”
“I’m glad you like them. They seemed to like you.”
“Well, I think I’m a bit of an enigma to them. They said you don’t bring girls out very often.”
“I don’t.”
“Good,” I tell him seriously. I don't think I could have taken it if I was perceived as just another girl hanging off Elliot’s arm. I’ve spent too much of my life feeling that way, copping shitty stares from other girls as a result. But, if I’m copping shitty stares because I’m the only one and they’re jealous, well, I can handle that.
We stop when we reach the end of the line, and he turns to me with a thoughtful expression. “You know, I’m not hiding my feelings for you anymore. I don’t even give a fuck about work. I just want to be with you.” He slurs a little, and when I look up at him, the world is swimming, but I’m happy to hear that.
In my drunken mind, it’s one of the most romantic things anyone has ever said to me. “Really?”
He nods. “Really.”
I kiss him, emotion mixed with alcohol swirling within me, filling my cracked heart with hope.
I want to fall for this guy. I want him to become my world and make me whole again.
We aren’t as urgent with each other when we get back to his place this time. Instead, he leads me to his room, and we take our time, slowly undressing and touching each other, stumbling a little with drunken fingers. I love to run my hands over his chest and down over his abs, feeling the hard strength rippling just beneath his smooth skin.
When he lowers me on the bed, he takes his weight on his hands and holds himself over me looking down, searching my face with his eyes. I smile, languishing under his gaze as I reach up to run my hands through his thick hair.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says seriously.
“I’m glad, because I think I could fall for you too,” I whisper back, my voice wavering as I speak words I believe in this moment to be true. But deep inside, I feel a pang that whispers another name, one my heart can never seem to let go of. What is wrong with me?
When Elliot leans down and kisses me, I empty my mind, focusing on his motion as he makes love to me with tender movements. I almost cry from the beauty of it, keeping my eyes open the whole time, filling my mind with the man above me, forcing another face out of my mind, trying to surrender to what I’m feeling and let it consume me.
Twenty-Seven
“Stay with me.” Elliot slides his arm around me, naked bodies pressing close beneath grey sheets.
I look at him through lazy slits. “I am so hungover right now. I’m not leaving this bed until I’m forced to.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“What is?”
“You’re spending the next few days with me.”
I grin. “You just decided that for me, did you?”
“Yep.” His hand moves against my skin, over the curve of my behind, down to the back of my thigh which he pulls so my leg wraps around his waist. “You said you had a week off when your exams and your race was done. I couldn’t go to Hamilton Island with you. But I can definitely hide you away in my apartment so I can come home and fuck you into relaxation every night. You can spend the days on the beach, soaking up the sun, taking in the beachside vibe. It’s a perfect solution.”
“Perfect, huh?”
He nods. “One where we both get what we want.”
“Hmm.” I place my hand on his ribs, moving my fingers lightly. “If you’re hiding me here, does that mean the job remains?”
His eyes lose focus for a moment before clearing up as his drunken ramblings seem to dawn on him. “For now, unfortunately. Drunk me seems to forget I’m a Roberts. There’s a path I need to follow.”
“See, that really bothers me. If you’re truly unhappy making your career in law, you should be free to pursue something else. Regardless of who your family is. Life’s too short to be miserable. Believe me. I almost died.”
He lets out a sigh as he shifts to run his fingers over the scar on my face. “I hear you. I do. But it isn’t that easy. I’ve spent my whole life working towards something.”
“Becoming a judge?” He frowns. “Stephanie told me,” I supply, and he nods. “But what’s the point in achieving something when you don’t want it?”
He sighs again and rolls onto his back. “You’re right. I know you are. I just…I don’t know how to say no to this. The pieces are all in place. If I pull out now, I’ll embarrass my father. I don’t want to do that.”
“So, to save him some embarrassment, you’d rather a lifetime in a career you hate?”
With an empty laugh, he sits up and hangs his legs over the side of the bed, the muscles in his back flexing. “It is what it is, Katrina. No sense fighting over it.” He pulls on a pair of trackpants, walking out of the room.
“Elliot,” I call out to his retreating form. “Shit.” I need to learn when to leave things alone.
Getting up, I grab one of his T-shirts from the back of a chair and drop it over my head, taking a moment to hold the shirt to my nose as I breathe in his scent, which is everything I currently find erotic.
Following him out, I find him in the kitchen pulling coffee cups from the cupboard while the kettle boils on the corner of the bench.
“I’m sorry,” I say, moving so I’m standing behind him, sliding my arms around his naked torso. “I shouldn’t be prying into your family business. I guess I just liked the idea of us quitting that place and getting new jobs that let us be together like a normal couple.”
Setting the mugs on the bench, he turns in my arms with an exhale. “From what I understand, most normal couples keep their relationships out of the office too. Granted, they don’t work together, but when you break this down, we’re no different. Work is work. Home is home. The only thing different here is that there’s an added risk if we get caught. But we can handle that, right?” He gives my waist a gentle squeeze. “From what I remember of last night, you’re pretty good at taking risks.”
I bite my lip and smile, remembering our very dirty dance. “What can I say? I’m a bad girl.”
He claps a hand against my arse. “Exactly how I like you,” he says, bringing his lips to mine. “That’s my favourite shirt, by the way.”
“Oh? You want me to take it off?” I ask, pulling back slightly.
He hooks his finger in the neckline and pulls it towards him, looking at my nakedness on the inside. “No. Having you inside it is what makes it my favourite.” Snaking his other hand down from my waist to slide under the shirt, he caresses my bare behind. “My absolute favourite shirt.” I melt into his hard chest once more as we kiss again, his hands roaming over my body, underneath the shirt.
In a show of great restraint, he steps away and says, “A hangover cure. Eggs, bacon, English muffins, headache pills and a bunch of coffee.”
“I was hoping you’d serve me Elliot, with a side of more Elliot,” I purr, reaching for the waist of his pants and sliding my hand inside, cupping his length.
“God, I love your touch,” he moans, closing his eyes as he leans against the benchtop.
“I love your cock,” I say, dropping to my knees to take him into my mouth.
His fingers go into my hair as I work him with my tongue and my hand, imagining myself doing something like this in the office, hiding out under his desk, driving him to climax while trying to maintain a degree of professionalism while on a call or holding a meeting. It makes my insides clench with excitement as I wonder if we’d get away with it.
“Fuck, Katrina.” He blows, his cock pulsing in my mouth, spilling his seed into my throat as I swallow it down.
“Yummy,” I say, licking my lips as he pulls me to my feet and hoists me onto the table, taking a seat in front of me.
> “My turn,” he says as he pushes my thighs open and leans forwards, sliding his tongue between my folds, flicking against my throbbing clit until I’m writhing in ecstasy and calling out his name.
“I’m not full yet,” I say as he wipes a hand over his mouth and stands before me, his cock in his hand. “I think I need something more.”
He grins, positioning his cock at my entrance before ramming inside me, causing me to gasp from the suddenness of it. “Better?”
I clutch myself against him and breathe into his ear. “Yes. That's what I needed. You inside me.”
He pushes deeply and lifts me from the table, walking with us still connected until he’s sitting on the couch, me on top of him, grinding my hips, so I can take in every millimetre of his length.
“You feel so good,” I whisper, lifting myself up until he’s just about to slide out before I slam back down again, gripping him tightly as I repeat the process. He throws his head back and moans, his hands resting on my hips as he guides my rhythm. Over and over.
His body shudders, and he holds his breath as he comes, burying his face in my neck and kissing me. I curl my fingers through his hair and tilt his head up so I can return his kiss, wriggling in his lap to enjoy our continued connection.
“Best hangover cure ever,” he says as our breathing settles down.
“Hmm. I still want the bacon and eggs though.”
“And you’ll get them. Under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You didn’t give me an answer earlier.”
“About spending my week off with you?”
He nods.
“Hmm.” I rake my hands though his hair like a brush as I squeeze my internal muscles against his softening cock. “Will I get a lot of sex? Like, heaps of it?”
He grins. “I will fuck you from the moment I walk through that door at night until the moment I leave the next morning.”
“OK then. I’ll stay. I’ll need to go home and grab some things, but yeah. I’ll spend this week with you.”
“Fuck. Yes,” he says, flipping me back on the couch as he moves inside me again. Seems he’s definitely a man of his word.
Struggle: Beautiful Series, book one Page 23