by V. Theia
Holy shit, Gray Ellison was a drug.
“You came.” Eyes solemn, he licked his lips. “You look fucking incredible, baby-girl.” I knew I did. It took me long enough to shove myself into the jeans. All that damn cereal I’d been inhaling made my thighs thicker.
“God. I want to kiss you again,” he rumbled brushing his mouth in the barest touch to my mouth, “but I’m soaked.” Yeah, me too, buddy. “Let me go clean up. I’ll find you.”
That’s how I finally staggered back into the club and found a table booth in one far corner to calm down with a bottled water.
Not even ten minutes later, just as I finished posting another selfie to my Instagram and Facebook the man himself appeared behind me.
I recognized his warmth immediately.
A hand came around the back of my neck. It was one of those possessive holds I would usually bitch someone out for. And there I was practically purring like a cat.
His touch ignited a fire first within the lower portion of my belly and then directly into the thin lacy panties I’d worn. His fingers for a second tightened on my nape, one digit at a time, flex, release, flex, release and I swallowed a moan. “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” I nodded like an idiot. “What can I get you to drink?”
He slid in the booth opposite and I was glad of the distance, so my raging hormones could chill their shit down. “I have a water.” No drunk for me tonight. Not ever again. Not for as long as I lived.
Not that having him directly manspreading along the booth seat in front of me did much of the calming. He was free of sweat and wearing a fresh t-shirt, his wet-slicked hair roughly finger-combed off his face, he looked fuckable as he unashamedly eye-fucked me from under his lazy lids. A tender sweep of his gaze.
I might have recklessly slid out of the seat and gotten into his lap taking his unspoken invitation to put myself there if not three seconds later two other men came from the crowd and pushed their way onto our booth.
Both looked to be middle-to-late thirties.
One on my side, the other squeezed in with Gray.
That guy I recognized as the band drummer with his long reedy frame, clipped hair around the sides and darkly slicked off to one side on top. With his smiling blue eyes and short facial hair like he hadn’t shaved all week, he looked exactly what we all imagine a drummer to be like. Relaxed. Self-assured with tattooed arms like guns wearing a ripped white tank top.
I had to turn slightly to see Gray’s other friend because he was in my fucking personal space, thigh touching thigh, overbearing body heat radiating through my jeans. He was around the same build as Gray, not as muscled with a swimmer’s body. He looked like he had Scandinavian heritage with his short and messy ice blond hair and penetrating, pale blue eyes that gave the immediate impression he was constantly straddling the line between being bored and manic. Cocky as hell if the smirk on his face was to be a gauge. But then he was the singer. Being a front man was notorious for having over inflated self-worth and from the screams tonight I would lay money on him using that to get laid often. The tatts around his inner forearms added into his exaggerated reputation.
I’d known him three seconds and I could recognize his ego for days.
He was all the commitment-shy fuck boys I’d ever known before.
Cocky assholes were widespread these days, little men thinking they were big gods because of their pay check or dicks. You saw it everywhere—on tv, romance books, romantic movies, even in Wholefoods with jackasses squeezing avocado’s.
I heard Gray murmur. “I thought you going to that club uptown?”
Blondie spoke in the same raspy eloquent voice as Gray, even with his curled up permanent sneer he probably thought looked so fucking cool.
Three little rich boys playing at rock stars. I bit back my grin.
“And miss seeing a lovely babe like this one. Hi, gorgeous,” he turned to me one arm behind on the seat and grinned, sexual ego coming off him in waves like he thought I should be flattered and wet he was smiling at me. “I’m Cal, the most handsome fucker at this table and who might you be? More importantly, did you love my show? You did, right?”
The other two, Gray included, scoffed. “Rein in the ego, Mick Jagger.” Gray said. “India, these degenerates are Cal and Lincoln. Ignore anything either of them say, they’re born liars.”
It was Lincoln who reached across the table to shake my hand, only Gray got there first and smacked it away. It gave Cal the opportunity to slide across the booth seat once more to come up flush against my leg.
Now personal space never bothered me. I’ve been in more clubs and festivals than I can recall, and those places are usually wall to wall bodies. But it’s altogether different sitting in a booth when you haven’t indicated you want an arrogant guy that close. Singer Cal didn’t understand common gallantry.
“Gray said he had a friend coming to the gig tonight, he didn’t say you were a knock out. Where’ve you been all my life?” Joking or not he stared a little too long for my liking and I turned away to give my eyes to Gray.
A waitress brought a tray of drinks and hands descended to grab glasses.
“Gray didn’t tell me anything about you,” I informed with a smile. I winked at the quieter friend sitting next to the object of all my fantasies. “You though, he talked non-stop about you, Lincoln. Nice to meet you. The show was amazing.”
“Hey, thanks.” Lincoln said, dipping his head over his hands making dark locks fall into his eyes. Seriously fucking veined hands. I should snap a picture for my Instagram.
Gray flashed me the sexiest smirk, grabbing my attention I almost came in my panties.
I licked over my dry lips when one of his gazes had my stomach bottoming out.
Did he realize what he was doing?
Sure, he did.
I was aware Gray’s age took him almost fifteen-years older, and for me it was one of his many appealing qualities.
Dear god, don’t let me have daddy issues, I laughed to myself.
“What is it you do, gorgeous?” Asked Cal downing half of his scotch in one. His arm sneaked onto the booth behind me, fingertips touched the ends of my hair.
“India.” Gray growled correcting him, causing Cal to smirk.
“I’m a professional ball buster for cocky little boys.”
Lincoln laughed, unaware of around twenty sets of female eyes on him, admiring him from top to toe. I saw Gray’s lips twitch and it felt like we’d become this team sitting sandwiched between his two polar opposite friends. “What is it you do?”
I was going with something in the city.
Stockbroker.
Venture capitalist.
Specialized asshole.
Since he’d tried to grab my thigh three times already under the table I was going with door number three.
“I teach high school music.”
Shut the front fucking door. No way. His students must hate this arrogant bastard on sight.
The quieter, nicer friend worked for an IT company, blah blah. I didn’t understand his job title, but I just bet my best friend would have geeked out to talk tech with him.
“We’re heading to a party soon, you should come, gorgeous.” Offered Cal, looking directly at me, a dark twinkle in his eyes. Was he seriously hitting on me in front of Gray, when he knew I was here to see only him? God, I should punch this blond haired, blue eyed shithead.
“You wanna reel it the fuck in, asshole?” Said Gray with a warning stare.
“What? Just being friendly to the little girl. She might want to party.” Smirk. Smirk. How was Gray friends with this guy? If he had any positive qualities, they were buried under mount assholery.
“I don’t. Thanks.”
I used that second to slide across the seat and squeezed myself in the inch gap that took me to Gray’s side. Our thighs bumped, and he placed a hand right there on the top of mine.
Instant heat.
Instant comfort.
He squeezed, and I put my ha
nd over the top to let him know he didn’t need to get pissed on my behalf.
“It’s like that is it?” Smirked Cal, amused, eyes going between us.
In this scenario, yeah, the hell it is, buddy.
“Yeah, it is, so withdraw your dickhead come-ons, Cal, so India doesn’t think that’s all there is to you.” Answered Gray, not sure what was transpiring between them, but it was evident I’d been claimed by the guitar player of the band.
I would not swoon.
I didn’t even get this excited the weekend I partied with that third runner up of American Idol. She was sexy, and we’d had a lot of champagne and fun in a hotel room for twelve hours, but I couldn’t bring her name to mind at all now.
Not with strong fingers stroking my jean leg. Those fingers found the distressed hole and touched skin. He flamed me in seconds.
“Nothing wrong with a little groupie sharing, man. Gorgeous might be up for it.”
Oh, god. Asshole, cocky and a sleazebag.
My holding back on my attraction to Gray didn’t alter the fact that in a sea of men I’d choose him.
I’d choose him over anyone.
Before he could blow up when I felt his body stiffen beside mine I tucked my fingers underneath Gray’s. “Firstly, I’m Gray’s groupie only. Second, how old are you?” I asked him.
Cal man-spread himself and winked with his glass up to his lips. He was a good-looking guy, so my thinking was he was overcompensating with his ego because of a teeny wang. “Thirty-eight.”
“And you’re still talking about sharing women like you’re in a fraternity? Here’s a tip, singer. It doesn’t impress women.” Tongue poked into the side of my cheek. Indifferent to his good looks and overt cockiness. “Maybe stick to the day job, dude.” I turned to Gray, his eyes blazing hot. “I’m ready to get out of here if you are?”
Right there he placed his lips against mine. I was in no doubt it was for his friends benefit, but I had Gray’s lips again, so semantics didn’t come in to it. I smiled against them.
Friendships were weird when you think about it.
Sometimes they were with overcompensating sleazebags like Cal. I couldn’t see what Gray liked about him. But he was his friend not mine.
One day you didn’t know a person and then you recognized something in them you liked. Either a common interest, humor or even a shared weirdness and then from that day on you claimed them as someone in your tribe.
It might only be a few days since I’ve truly gotten to know Gray, the first meeting not included, and yet sitting at a table with two of his friends it’s more than evident to my thrumming heart and mind that out of these three people he would be considered my person.
My friend.
My Gray.
I’d really love to say I went home with Gray and we fucked for hours.
With the way my body was humming at every slight touch. Hands brushed, shoulder against his chest, my hand on his inner thigh in the cab. The sex clues were blatantly there.
My big fucking mouth ruined it.
Just as we pulled up outside my building, he opened the door for me and what did I do?
I yawned.
I yawned so wide I looked like a lion about to devour someone’s head.
And once I started it was a ricochet because the things just wouldn’t quit.
“Are you coming up?” I asked seeing him paused holding the cab door. Frowning at me. “Gray?” He’d worked hard for this and he was hesitating?
He took my face in his two big hands and kissed me lightly on the lips.
Mmm, that was more like it. I leaned in for more and he stopped me.
“You’re tired, baby-girl. Go climb into bed.”
Now the thing is. I’m not a spoiled brat. I would have needed a charmed life to qualify, and we all know I didn’t. But damn if I didn’t want to throw my fucking tiara and stomp my foot and yell I didn’t want to go to bed, I wanted to be fucked with the promise of all the heated stares he’d given me tonight.
I looked at him and I saw regret.
I also felt how his body wanted mine. Big and hard.
“Fine,” I tried to walk away. I didn’t beg. He caught be around the waist, hugging my back to his chest, his face buried in the side of my throat and I melted like ice. God, it felt good to be held so confidently close.
Gray was a man’s man. I didn’t know if it was his age, but I got firework thrills through me every time he was this take charge sure guy. Even when he little-boy grinned at me it was in a way that I could tell he was a gets shit done type.
I didn’t know that type turned me on.
Until it did.
Now my damn clit wouldn’t shut up about wanting a piece of Gray.
And just when I was about to relent and give in, forgetting all my reasons why hooking up with him now was bad timing, he sent me to bed alone.
“Don’t leave cross with me, baby-girl. I fucking want you, always, constantly and you’re worth waiting for,” he whispered like he had a mouthful of sand. Pained and rusty. I melted further, “but not when you’re exhausted. I want you all night long, not a fast screw.”
He said screw and my vision blinked out.
The big hand curled around the front of me stroked my belly. Petting me into not being mad with him and what could I do? The man seemed to dive into my psyche and know effortlessly what I was thinking.
“Okay,” I said quietly and then my tongue went rogue by asking, “will I see you soon?”
Maybe for breakfast sex.
Or lunch sex.
I was easy.
I was also horny, and I hated he could turn his on and off at will and be reasonable. I felt childish in light of his adulting.
“I’m heading to Chicago in the morning for a meeting, but I will video call you. Maybe you could wear that workout shirt again for me.” His long fingers ran up my ribcage, tickling my side boob.
Inhaling I pulled out of his arms. He didn’t get to have me even more soaked if he had no intention of following through.
And then using his devastating smile for evil he hit me with, “Maybe give what I said a thought while I’m away.”
Moving in with him. He still wanted me to live with him…
Jesus. He was crazy.
And I was considering it.
Fingering through my hair, I licked my lips and heard him groan. “Get up to bed, baby-girl, before I forget the bullshit I just said.”
I smiled coyly. “Goodnight. And Gray? …. You were so good tonight. I’m glad I got to see you play. Dream of me and all that you’re missing, Sugar D.”
I thought I heard him mutter “All fucking night,” but I was already up the front steps. He stayed there until I waved and went inside.
Overheated and smiling I trekked up to my apartment and found a text from him asking if I made it inside okay.
Sweet man.
If I’d known I wouldn’t see him for the next six days I might have text more than a simple goodnight. I would have sent a sexy selfie in my boy shorts and kiss swollen lips.
I think I’m dating a millionaire.
Or I was insane.
One of those options.
But it mostly felt like I was dating a rich guy.
Not even twelve hours later, right as I was about to leave for two interviews back to back, dressed in my smartest tailored pants and blouse and my lucky push up bra and a pair of power-bitch heels, a delivery guy strolled out of the stairs huffing and puffing under the weight of his cargo.
Sighing, I waited at the door, hand on my hip, accusation in my eyes. “Okay, hand it over.”
It was the same Deliver-to-Door kid.
“Is he paying you to come back here personally?”
The teen boy flashed a grin.
Gray was absolutely giving this kid extra tips.
“Put it in the hallway,” I instructed. I was already running late, so I’d open it later.
All morning it bugged me as to what he’d sent thi
s time.
It made having two mediocre yet hopeful interviews bearable knowing I had the package to go home to. After stopping for a coffee and talking to a breastfeeding best friend on facetime. Theo was a greedy guzzler, so we had a good thirty-minute chat before she had to burp and do a crappy diaper. Seeing her so blissful in her married family life I felt a pang hit me square in the belly.
What did I have?
A mountain of debt that wasn’t all mine.
Responsibility for a parent.
No job.
No home in a couple of weeks.
No boyfriend.
Oh. Maybe I did. We just hadn’t had the talk. You know the one. Will you be my girlfriend? It was so fourth grade and maybe I wanted him to say the words.
Ugh, I was disgusting.
I still smiled unlocking my front door knowing what was waiting for me on the other side. It was almost as thrilling to know if Gray was in the living room. Excitement squeezed through my arms and legs as I threw off both jacket and shoes. Before I knew it, I was into the box like a kid on Christmas morning.
Set after set I pulled out multicolored gym gear. And this stuff wasn’t cheap. I know it wasn’t because I’d wish-listed it on Amazon months ago.
In total, Gray had bought me ten new workout outfits. Tight three-quarter leggings, vest tops and sports bras. In every color imaginable.
And in my size.
Was the man a genie in his secret life?
Maybe he just had the secretary in a million who’d been choosing these gifts.
I missed him. I realized. Not the weak kind of missing a person, but the real heart aching missing.
Not even a full day yet after our epic make-out session and I missed his face, his arms, his epic hugs.
The next day it was a delivered sushi lunch.
The day after that, what I thought was flowers, on closer inspection it was a chocolate bouquet. That damn man was trying to woo me with food.
And as I unwrapped a praline flavored rose heart and shoved it between my teeth I smiled savoring the sweetness and thought I didn’t mind so much.
That afternoon when I arrived home after a failed interview for a PA job I was far too qualified for and the boss treated me like a sack of shit, depressed and in my own pool of pity a box was propped against my door.