Play

by Melissa Young

  I fall silent, in fear of stumbling over my words, but I can’t seem to wipe this shit-eating grin off of my face. I bring my hand up to meet my lips, trying to wipe off this grin as best I can and allow my hands to trace over the stubble on my face. “And how do you propose I do that?”

  “So the millionaire playboy doesn’t have a game plan? That’s a surprise.” She clicks her tongue behind her teeth and brings the edge of the highball glass up to her lips to take in a sip, keeping those brown eyes locked in on my mine and all I can think about is what she would look like in this same position but with my dick in her mouth swallowing my cum.

  I must be drooling or God knows what kind of expression is on my face at the moment because she is forced to bring her fingers up towards my eyes and snaps them to bring me back to the current year. She’s patronizing me and I can’t help but fucking love it.

  “Well, I…” Just as I’m about to seal the deal on hopefully, getting some hot body to saddle up on me tonight, my body stiffens out of left field, my shoulders tense and shoot up to my neck. My grip on the rocks glass in my hand intensifies, warming the contents inside of it.

  Is someone grabbing my ass?

  I throw my head to the side, catching a full-fledged view of who is behind me coping a feel, half expecting it to be Demarius and the other half, about ready to punch someone.

  But my goodness, she is beautiful.

  Long brown hair, eyes as blue as the ocean, a perfect set of ivories and a tight little frame that makes me instantly forget everything about the woman I was just talking to.

  The ass grabber is drop dead gorgeous. My hard as fuck dick agrees with my brain's assessment.

  Every single inch of this woman is perfection. She doesn't say a word, so I jump right in. “You know, most women aren’t this hands-on when it comes to dating.”

  She laughs. “Oh I’m not trying to date you.”

  “So you’re trying to fuck me then? Even better.”

  She shakes her head, laughing and her cheeks are flushed bright red. Her hands release from my ass and she wipes them down on her tight black dress, as if the feeling of my cheeks in her hands left some sort of residue. “Okay, got it.”

  “Got it? Got what, darling? Not even going to bother for a reach around once you’ve got a man feeling all tingly?”

  “I’m sorry. My best friend is getting married and it’s her bachelorette party and…”

  “Wait, so shouldn’t she be the one accosting random men? I think you’re doing it wrong, love.”

  “No... just… shut up,” she laughs. “Just listen.”

  “Yes, Ms. Bossypants.”

  "It was a dare. That's all it was. I wasn't grabbing your ass because I wanted to grab your ass."

  I shake that statement off because it sounds like a bloody insult and if there's one thing I know for certain, my ass is fucking smashing. I've had enough fingernails digging into it to know it’s a knickers wetter for sure.

  “So, now that you have assaulted me and bossed me around, how about buying a guy a drink before he presses charges?”

  "If you buy me a drink, we'll call it even."

  "Why the hell would I buy you a drink?" I cross my arms over my chest. I can't tell if she's serious or not.

  "Because you want to?" She sighs. "Are you playing hard to get?"

  "Are you?" I bounce the question back to her.

  "Buy me a martini and find out for yourself."

  I turn back to the bartender and do the only thing I can think of. I buy Bossypants a drink.

  four

  "I take it there's no Mr. Bossypants in the picture?" I motion toward her bare ring finger and slide the martini glass towards her by the stem. "If there is, you should put a ring on it and keep your hands off the arses of strange blokes."

  "You're right about one thing. You are a strange bloke." She sips from her drink after mocking my accent. "Thanks for the drink. This isn't half bad and why is your cheek red?"

  Fingers crossed she doesn’t press me on the redness of my cheek. That would not bode well for my chances with her tonight. "I'm not strange."

  "That's debatable."

  It's not. My tastes in all things from food to kink may stray from what others consider normal, but strange is never a word I'd use to define myself.

  Cocky? Sure. Confident? Absolutely. Well hung? You better fucking believe it, sweet cheeks.

  Not strange though. Never have been and never will be.

  "Are you asking if I'm married?" she asks curtly.

  "Yes." I keep my answer simple because there's less chance she'll drive this conversation off the rails again and the last thing I want tonight is another battle of mindfuckery.

  "Would it matter to you if I was?"

  Fucking rights it would. I don't set foot in anyone else's playground. In other words, my dick doesn't go near any married women. I may not be looking for anything more than a fuck, but there are enough single women in the world to satiate me. I don't need to dip my toe in the married pool.

  I’m desperate but not that desperate.

  "Can you just answer the question, Bossypants?" I press her.

  "My name is Jane, not Bossypants."

  Jane? I wouldn't have pegged this woman as a Jane. "Your name is Jane?"

  "Jane Smith. And yours?"

  Bloody fucking hell. This is the third Jane Smith I've met this year alone. Was there an article in a magazine instructing women to use that alias when they meet men in a bar?

  “Fuck off,” the words fly out of my lips without thought.

  “Well, nice to meet you ‘fuck off’ and what a fitting name no less.”

  She’s witty. I like it. “I’m sorry. Your name is Jane Smith?"

  "That's what I said, isn't it?"

  The attitude of this woman is driving me bloody mad. "What's your real name? Before you tell me you don't give it out to men you just met, I'm asking for your own good."

  "My own good?" Skepticism clouds her expression. "How so?"

  "You'll want to hear me saying your name – your real name – when I'm buried balls deep inside you later tonight. Trust me on that." I sip on my scotch, feeling way too proud of myself.

  Damn, I wish I had a notepad sometimes to write down these gems.

  "First off, ew." She scrunches her nose. "Secondly, my name is Jane Smith and thirdly, I don't want to think about your hairy balls when I'm enjoying an almost perfect martini."

  "They're not hairy, love." I tilt my drink toward her. "You'll find that out soon enough."

  "I'm going to ignore everything you just said." She glances over her shoulder to where a group of women are whooping it up at a table. "What's your real name?"

  I debate introducing myself as John Doe, figuring it would make her smile but I tell her the truth because what the fuck do I have to hide? Besides, I love the expression on a woman's face once she realizes I'm that Oscar Rose. "My name is Oscar Rose."

  She chews on her bottom lip. "I don't like it. Why would you choose that name to pick up women with? It's weak."

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, c’mon, it’s so fake. What kind of a name is Oscar anyways? Did your mom name you that because you’re a grouch?” She pouts.

  “I know the reference you speak of but we didn’t watch the telly much when I was a wee lad and I don’t believe my mum did name me after a muppet but since she’s passed, I regretfully cannot tell you whether I was named after a green monster in a dustbin or not.”

  Woof. Maybe that was a bit much?

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

  “Yeah,” I extend my hand out to land on her bare shoulder and allow it to linger momentarily before I lean in closer. “You went right for my non-hairy balls there.”

  She laughs and I try not to think about my mum any further. Although maybe a few tears will speed up the process to spreading her legs?

  Time to change this up. “So that table over there with that, gaggle of wom
en that you are most certainly the most attractive out of, are they your friends?”

  She lowers her gaze and sets her sights on me. I don’t understand why society has forced women to be so bashful when it comes to compliments or completely robbing them of the ability to think they look good. I hate it. “Oh, c’mon. Take the damn compliment. I won’t tell.”

  She smirks and places the rim of the martini glass on her lower lip, trying to distract me from the ten shades of red her face is turning. She takes in the final sip. “So, what brings you to The Ivy tonight?”

  Well, I was trying to fuck this hot blonde but that didn’t work because she was too afraid of my dick. Sad face emoji. Then, I started drinking and reflecting upon my youth and started feeling really sorry for myself before one of my top clients invited me here, to one of my least favorite bars on Manhattan where I am spending more money and then…

  “Oh, you know, just trying to get laid.”

  Way better answer.

  She laughs. Thankfully. “At least you’re honest.”

  I suppose it’s not far from the truth. “A rarity these days, wouldn’t you agree?” I notice the martini glass in her hands is empty. “Another martini for the lady and this time, perhaps a little dirtier?”

  She smirks and sighs. “It’s kind of creepy how observant you are.”

  “Creepy? I think you meant wildly sexy, but not to worry, I got the gist.” I wink at her and catch the attention of the bartender. “Something for your friends as well, maybe? I mean they did watch us practically fornicating. It’s only the polite thing to do.”

  She smiles and I reckon I’ve nearly got her turning into putty in my palm. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  I try to stifle a smile. “Right. So another martini for the lady however this time equal parts gin and brine, two olives… no....” I break my train of thought and look her up and down. “Three olives and a vermouth rinse.”

  I turn my attention from the bartender to her. “How does that sound, love?”

  She bites on her bottom lip. I just nailed her drink order because of course I did.

  “Right. I’ll have another scotch and soda for myself, plus a round of tequila for the bachelorette party to my left. Got it?”

  The bartender nods. “Coming right up.”

  “You think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

  “Listen, darling,” I bring the straw up to my lips and polish off the remainder in my glass as well, keeping up with her momentum. “I already told you, not a hair on this perfectly sculpted body. You’re more than welcome to feel for yourself?”

  “Time will tell,” she shrugs and laughs to herself, nuzzling her face into her shoulder briefly. It’s a subtle motion, but I’ve seen it enough times to know exactly what she is thinking.

  She doesn’t want to be that bridesmaid that left the bar with some guy she just met, leaving the bridal party stranded. It will be something that comes up at the wedding and everyone will forget about how another bridesmaid vomited all over the bride that night. Yet, she also wants to be that girl that goes with her gut and leaves this bullshit commercialized party behind and gets absolutely fucked raw tonight. Leaving all of her inhibitions behind. It’s a tough battle she is fighting through, I’m sure.

  However, with the way her body language is lining up to mine, her interest in me over her friends and this growing sexual tension between us, I’d say I’m on my way to a successful second attempt for a promising fuck.

  I smile and bite my bottom lip. “Time will certainly tell.”

  five

  “Uno! Dos! Tres! Tequila!”

  I watch as the bridal party engulfs the entire tray of tequila shots and I do the honorable thing for my liver and stomach, by spitting it right back into my drink. I’d rather waste the $15 scotch and soda than honk all over this floor. Also, I don’t trust leaving my Aston here overnight, so I’m trying to slow it down on the firewater.

  The ever-elusive Jane Smith handles her tequila shot like a real corker, without the lime and salt accouterments and I’m wondering why it’s surprising me at all, given how brash this girl has already been with me tonight. At this rate, I wouldn’t be shocked if she told me that she could kick my ass in a fight and then did just that and won.

  The thought alone of us wrestling is causing the fabric of my pants to tighten.

  “So,” I interrupt the bride as she cackles with another one of her bridesmaids. “What is the name of this ravishing beauty to my left?” I point to Jane.

  This precarious grin forms across her face as she locks eyes with Jane. I intercept it, immediately. I know the kind of destruction women can communicate to each other without words.

  “That’s my best friend, Jane Smith.” She doesn’t even flinch, which is surprising, considering how steaming drunk she is. “And if you break her heart, I’m going to rip off your balls and shove one in your ass and the other down your throat.”

  So wax poetic.

  “Actually darling, I’m fairly certain my balls would look much better on your face, but suit yourself.”

  “What did you say to me?” She screams into my face, filling my nostrils with the scent of rye on her breath.

  “I said,” I pause and wonder if the insult is worth spewing twice. “Her name is actually Jane Smith?”

  Safer bet.

  The bride nods. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” The gaggle of girls laugh in unison, like something out of a fucking horror movie. I have to admit defeat. I may never know this girl’s real name or maybe it is just Jane Smith. I’m having a hard time believing it.

  However, it’s also not important. I probably won’t even remember it once I’m through with her.

  The crew continues their bridesmaid hit list of activities to complete before the end of the night, but Jane hangs back with me.

  “Your friends seem lovely.” I joke with her.

  “Yeah, Casey is a bit of a handful.”

  “I pray for the man brave enough to lock that one down. He must be a unique kind of masochist,” I pause and my eyes follow Casey and her crew around the bar. “Or he just doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his balls.”

  Jane laughs and swats me on the shoulder, forcing my attention back on her, but I’m not complaining. She blushes at my bluntness, and it’s terribly cute how red her cheeks can get.

  “So was grabbing my ass your final mission of the evening or?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Right. That. It was a solid icebreaker, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Oh, I’m not saying that it wasn’t or that I didn’t enjoy it. I’m just wondering that if I take a break for the loo, if I’m going to find you hanging starkers from the rafters or with your hand down the front of another man’s trousers.”

  “Starkers?”

  “Naked.”

  She laughs. “Got it, and I’m saving the dick grab for someone very special.”

  “Oh,” I pause and set the swamp water drink in my hands upon the high top table between us. “If you thought my ass was grab worthy, I promise my cock would not disappoint you.”

  She scoffs and rolls her eyes subtly. “Such a charmer you are. What’s your day job, Rico Suave?”

  I have the worst luck with nicknames.

  “Doing just that, in fact. Charming celebrity sports stars into bed with me. This time, quite figuratively and not in the literal sense.”

  She studies me and I realize she has just come to realization of who I am. “Oh, you’re that Oscar Rose.”

  “Suggesting by your tone, you’ve heard of me before?”

  “Uh huh,” she sips her martini.

  “Uh huh?” I question her further. “What does uh huh insinuate?”

  She shrugs. “Just saying not saying.”

  Just when I thought I was safe from the bewildering female vernacular. “So I take it, it isn’t nearly as bad as I’m assuming, given that you haven’t planned your escape route yet?”

  She tilts her head to the side and sh
rugs. “I think everyone deserves a fair shot.”

  “How noble of you.” And how fortunate for me. “So, Ms. Jane Smith, please tell me more about you, since now I suppose you know most of my dirty secrets?”

  “Well, what do you want to know, Mr. Rose?” There is never an expectation for anyone to use my name in a formal sense, but I must admit, when it is done in a playful and sexy way as Ms. Smith is executing, it’s wildly arousing.

  “What don’t I buy you another martini and we go somewhere a little quieter?”

  “Are you already trying to take me home?”

  “Are you implying I haven’t been this entire time?” I tease her.

  The look in her eyes right now, is penetrating me so deeply, I’m having a hard time keeping up with her. I must admit, this is quite a lot of effort for just the chance at taking her home with me tonight but if I am blessed with the opportunity, I have this hunch that the victory will taste divine.

  “Come,” I take her hand in mine. “Let us chat up over one final drink and then you can decide if you think I’m worthy enough to have the honor of being between your legs.”

  I immediately lead her through the Joe Bloggs of The Ivy and feel no hesitation in her grasp behind me, so I continue.

  We reach a spiral staircase that leads up to the more private suites that the establishment has to offer. I turn around and allow her to go up first more so because I’m a gentleman but also, because I can only imagine the view of that ass in my face.

  “After you.”

  “We need to have a reservation to go up there.”

  I shake my head and scrunch my nose. “Bollocks. We don’t. Trust me.”

  “Okay.” The hesitation settles inside of her but I’m not too concerned. That is all about to melt away surely. “Whatever you say.”

  “Whatever I say? Well, then, in that case, let me fetch my car and whisk you out of here.”

  She laughs and starts heading up the stairs. Sure enough, my inklings were on point. Her ass is just as phenomenal as I suspected it would be. Now, if I can just get it home with me.

  We reach the top of the stairs and sure enough, none other than Demarius Adams is there to greet us.