Claiming Beauty (Taking Beauty Trilogy Book 2)

by Nikki Wild

  “Classy,” I grinned. “Tell your friend you’re late because you were riding dick and dismiss me in the same burst of air? What else can you do with all that lung power?”

  Nat, as Clara had called her, planted her hand on her hip and gave me that classic simmering bitch face that I knew all too well.

  “Look, Tiger, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree if you’re trying to bring my best friend home tonight. She’s already got enough to worry about without some smarmy, arrogant fuck bothering her.”

  Just to send the point home, she waved lazily at me with a wrist in the dismissed motion. “Now, piss off.”

  I laughed, taking a swig of my whiskey. “I’m sorry, I just thought we let our friends make their own decisions… Clara, if you want me to go, just say the word.”

  She turned to me with a sweet grin. “I’ve told you to buzz off a few times now, remember?”

  I grasped at my chest. “You’ve wounded me.”

  “I’m sure you’ve experienced worse than that… Marine.”

  For a brief moment, I had a flashback to a knife fight in the Afghani dust. Within seconds, I could practically taste the dust in my throat, blinded by the hot, unforgiving sun as a foreign voice shouted indecipherable taunts. I could feel the hard rubber of the hilt in my hand, and knew what I had to do…

  “Well, I was in combat zones for a few years, so that’s fairly accurate,” I replied angrily. “Thank you for reminding me of my wonderful, feel-good time in the bloody, blistering desert. Now then, ladies, if you’ll excuse me…”

  I stepped away from them, swallowing the fury that curled up in my throat like encroaching flames. What was THAT? I’d never really experienced any heavy flashbacks like that before, and to do so now of all times…?

  Warm skin fleetingly brushed against my arm. Turning on my heel, Clara was at my side, looking at me with eyes filled with concern.

  “Are you ok?”

  I snapped out of it, shaking my head and looking down at her sparkling eyes.

  “Look, that might have been a bit far. I’m really sorry… You just came off like a dick earlier tonight, and I was giving it back... You’re not going to give up on me now, are you?”

  “You’re gorgeous when you open up like this, Clara.”

  Clara blushed briefly, clearly caught off-guard. I could see her friend back at the counter, ordering a drink and looking over at us with confusion.

  “I’m sorry… look, your name was Dalton, right? It’s been a frustrating night, and you had me a little off center… I was trying to forget you existed.”

  “Well, I exist, and you got my name right,” I answered mechanically, trying to gauge where this was going. “I’m Dalton Cparlyle, of the 165th Steel Division in Afghanistan. Youngest member of the Carlyle Family of Southern England.”

  “Sounds very distinguished,” she smiled. “Listen, would you like to get out of here, maybe? I could use some air.”

  Ah, she’s remorseful now. Now she feels like she needs to overcompensate. I didn’t mind this particular trajectory anymore. Still, there’s the small matter of…

  “Your friend,” I reminded, glancing over her shoulder again. Nat, likely short for Natalie, had affixed her attention onto flirting with the bartender as he mixed her up a cocktail.

  “Oh, she’s probably fine,” Clara clarified, following my gaze. “Natalie knows I’m in a bit of a vulnerable position, so she’s always on the defensive for me… I mean… wait. Don’t read into that.”

  “Don’t worry,” I reassured Clara. “I’m English and a former Marine. It’s not really in either code of ethics for me to be anything less than a cordial gentleman… Tonight notwithstanding, at any rate.”

  “What, do you get a manual or something?” Clara teased playfully.

  “With the Marines, yes, something of a field handbook. For the British side, it’s more of an ancient, leather-bound tome, really…”

  “Kept in some dusty old monastery?”

  “You’ve seen it, then,” I chuckled. “Surprised the Elders let you through, usually you have to submit to a thumb-prick to establish proof of your bloodline…”

  We shared a brief laugh, redirecting ourselves to a nearby bar top. While making brief small talk, Clara drank over half her beverage and I finished off my whiskey.

  “So, what do you do? Besides the banquet serving, I mean,” I asked her.

  “That’s pretty much it. Thrilling stuff,” Clara answered with a noncommittal shrug. “I start school back up Monday morning, and that’s going to suck away all of my free time.”

  “The university here in town?”

  “None other than.”

  “I see. I’m enrolled for the semester, too.”

  “No kidding,” Clara raised an eyebrow.

  I noted that she was going through her drink kind of quickly... an interesting observation.

  “Would have figured you to be already done. I mean, you’ve gotta be twenty-four, twenty-five, right?”

  “I’m twenty-six,” I replied with amusement. “I did eight years. Two back-to-back enlistments, and now I’m getting back to reality. How old are you, now that I know that you’re not twenty-one?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m eighteen,” she smiled, taking another long sip from her drink. “Sounds like Uncle Sam’s working out pretty well for you, then. What brought you to the States?”

  “My father,” I told her. “He’s a chemical engineer and his company sent us stateside to work on a collaborative project with an oil corporation here. I’m afraid I’m not privy to any more detail than that, but we’ve been here for about a decade now.”

  “A decade?” She gasped with muted surprise, just as I knew that she would. “What kind of project takes a decade?”

  “The kind that’s sort of ongoing, features a lot of internal bureaucracy, and involves this particular engineer deciding he quite enjoys the States,” I answered, watching her fight to keep her eyes glued to me. “But the details are not particularly important. All you need to know is that, here we are, and have been for quite some time.”

  Clara nodded slightly. Just as I was observing that inhaling her liquor was making her more than a little tipsy, she popped open her gob, asking loudly: “Why the Marines?”

  “It was supposed to straighten me out,” I chuckled… Didn’t hurt that I couldn’t spend much money if I was tied up in combat, and I knew that I could get a decent education pretty much anywhere in the country.”

  There was also the small matter of the Carlyle Fortune, although I wasn’t interested in divulging the future multimillionaire aspect of my backstory to this admittedly attractive stranger just yet.

  “Sounds like you made the right move,” she nodded. “You’re a smart man, Dalton. Pretty handsome, too…”

  Clara slid towards me, a dopey smile crossing her face as she drew near. Instinctively, I reciprocated, drawing her into a delicious, liquor-stained kiss.

  The room faded away from us, its bustling entertainment a complete afterthought. This young lady was ripe for the picking, blushing and starting to stumble over her words. She would be molding clay in my hands; with the right push, I could have her home with me, her fingernails clawing into my back or gripping my shoulders all night long.

  But I had a rule.

  They can only be slightly drunk.

  I don’t bed drunk chicks.

  There were two reasons she would have already started to feel a buzz this strong: either this girl was a lightweight, or the bartender had fucked up. He could have mistaken my smirk for make this drink strong or, somewhat more likely, he’d just fucked up the ratio of alcohols.

  I suspected they were both probably true.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked as I pulled back. She was clearly toasty, grinning toothily and giggling a little.

  “I’m good. How are you?”

  “Never better,” I chuckled. My cock was straining against my slacks, but I quickly repositioned it and drew up from the b
ar table. “Listen, give me your phone. I’m gonna put my number in there. Can I have yours?”

  “Suuure,” Clara replied, handing me her smartphone. After reminding my new friend here to plug in her passcode, I added myself as a contact and called my own phone.

  “Good. There, now we’re in contact,” I thought aloud, handing her the phone back. “Listen, let’s get you back to Natalie. You could probably use a chaperone…”

  “No, I’m good though,” Clara insisted.

  “Alphabet backwards,” I commanded.

  “Ugh. That doesn’t even work right.”

  “Z-Y-X, W, V-U-T…” I chimed out in tune. “S, R, Q, P, O-N-M-L-K…”

  “That’s… that’s not fair,” she slurred.

  “Alphabet backwards, Clara.”

  “I… I can’t do it,” she replied. When I didn’t budge, she finally sighed. “Z-Y-P, Q, L-M-N-O-P…”

  “Yeah, we’re going to get… who was it, Natalie? We’re going to get Natalie for you,” I smiled. “I can’t take you home like this. You’ll regret it in the morning.”

  “I’ll totally have sex with you,” she grinned.

  “And I believe you,” I countered, furious that I was turning down willing, beautiful pussy on a silver platter. “But it wouldn’t be right. Now, just wait right here a moment…”

  I parted through the crowd, looking for that familiar blond hair with gold earrings. I eventually spotted her, dominating the bartender’s time – to the chagrin of a few other girls, who looked bored and thirsty.

  “Hey, Natalie… your friend’s feeling pretty good,” I tapped her on her shoulder.

  She whirled around, a grin still on her face from the flirtations. “Where is she? What did you do?”

  “Not a thing. But rather than bring her to my place, I think you might need to be put on babysitter duties…”

  Natalie glanced around me to spot Clara, who was smiling to herself and swaying slightly in her chair.

  “Oh good lord, girl, that was one drink… Clara must not have eaten anything at all tonight with that banquet. She was always really terrible about holding her liquor…” She turned back towards the bartender. “And he’s cute, but he doesn’t look like he really knows what he’s doing.”

  “You see my predicament. Do you need a hand with her, or are you okay?”

  Natalie sighed. “Nah, I’m good.” She looked up at me with a slight grin. “Very noble of you, though. She’d have probably fucked your brains out, and here you are, doing the right thing. Not a lot of guys like that around here.”

  “I’m not a bad guy,” I shrugged.

  “Yeah… I guess maybe not.” She paused, fiddling with her words in her head. “Look, sorry if I came off a bit strong earlier, she’s just… been going through some stuff lately. Kind of a hang-up from a few months ago.”

  “Perfectly fine. You were just sticking up for your friend. I get it. Listen, I traded numbers with her, but unless you need anything, I think I’m going to head back home.”

  “Nah,” Natalie shook her head, pretending to roll up her sleeves. “I’ve got this shit from here. You have a good night, and I’ll be sure to let her know about her Good Samaritan. After all, I make a hell of a wingwoman when I’m working with someone who’s not an unrepentant prick…”

  “Glad to hear it. I’m in her phone under Dalton if she gets to be a bit much to handle.”

  “Cool beans. See ya.”

  With that, I paid out my tab with the bartender and started walking out of the bar. The placement of things put me walking straight past Clara's table, and I wound up strolling through her strike zone.

  “You leaving?” She asked morosely.

  “I’m afraid so. Long night. I’m in your phone though, and Natalie’s coming straight over. You take care now. See you soon, maybe?”

  She grabbed me by the tie and pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss. I was temporarily stunned by the fervor she threw into it, and I couldn’t help but return the intensity, steadying myself against her table.

  “Goodbye, Dalton,” she sultrily whispered as we separated lips.

  “Bye, Clara,” I huskily replied back.

  After that, I walked outside, letting the brisk air clear my head from what just happened.

  What DID just happen? I asked myself.

  When no answer came, I sighed quietly, shook my head with an amused grin, and began to whistle my way back towards the parking garage. Whatever just happened, I wasn’t even mad that I wasn’t bringing that fine plate of pussy home with me.

  Which meant that I probably liked the girl.

  Well, I chuckled to myself. That’s new.

  Chapter 4

  The following morning, I woke up with only a mild hangover. As I pulled myself out towards the kitchen, I spotted Natalie on the couch. Sitting cross-legged with a bowl of cereal, she was lounging in pajamas that were probably more expensive than my entire bedroom.

  Even after a few weeks here, I hadn’t gotten over how nice Nat’s apartment was. Even if she insisted that it was ours and not just hers, I couldn’t pretend to own any of this opulence.

  The far wall was a seamless sheet of glass, overlooking the river. I had a fantastic view of the distant suspension bridge, the city park below, and several nearby, aesthetically pleasing buildings.

  The floor across the entire apartment was a rich, polished green tile, which worked well with our premium black kitchen appliances, stone white countertops, and concrete walls.

  As for our living room itself, a large, black sectional couch with matching ottoman and chaise dominated the area, facing away from the back bedrooms. Front and center was a wall-mounted flat-screen smart TV, perfectly suited for her fixation on binge-watching her streamed shows.

  Rounding out Natalie’s other major vice was a corner bar area, close to her bedroom (naturally). It featured glasses that were tucked away neatly with a discreet wine cooler.

  Finally, the kitchen ran alongside the living room, stretching out directly in front from my bedroom door. The left side became a long island between two pillars, whereas the other side boasted the appliances. All in all, the culinary amenities were modern, professional, and probably cost tens of thousands of dollars.

  “Heya, Claire-bear,” Natalie grinned chirpily, glancing at me over her shoulder. “You’re up late. Feeling alright?”

  “We’ve been over this a million times, Nat,” I sluggishly groaned as I shuffled towards the island for support. God, I feel terrible. “That pet name of yours doesn’t work when my name’s not actually Claire.”

  “Yeah, well, suck it up,” my best friend chuckled, turning her eyes back to the television. “Anyway, don’t you, like, have a thing with your mom today?”

  Recollection snapped me to alertness. I stumbled towards the clock on the oven and cursed myself for oversleeping.

  “Oh shit, I’m gonna be late!”

  “You’re making a bad habit of that!” She rang out in a singsong voice, before chomping down on a spoonful of cereal. “And here I was, about to invite you to Netflix the shit out of some shows with me. When’ve you gotta be there?”

  “Two hours,” I moaned self-piteously.

  “What? You can totally make that.”

  “It takes an hour and a half to get there, and I’m a total mess at the moment, if you couldn’t tell…”

  “So what? Skip the shower. Slap on some makeup. Brush your teeth. Put on pants. The problem practically solves itself!” She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. “Do I need to figure all this shit out for you, or can you be a functioning adult for, like, one goddamn day?”

  I couldn’t help but grin. Her friendship was a definite blessing to me.

  “One day I’m gonna strangle you, you smart-ass,” I chuckled groggily. “But I’ll need that shower to wake me up… so, you know, enjoy your Netflix boyfriend. Gonna make that Jared of yours jealous.”

  “It’s true, Netflix is bae,” Nat cheerfully announced. “Jared kn
ows his place. He buys me shit. He gives me the dick, but Netflix? Netflix is where my heart goes.”

  “I thought that was pizza,” I retorted.

  “Netflix and I have an open relationship with pizza. It’s working out pretty well.”

  “You’re hopeless.”

  “And you will be, too, if you don’t get your ass in gear. Shower if you’re gonna, bitch!”

  Shaking my head, I followed her advice. I really hated showering any less than half an hour, but time was of the essence. After a quick, begrudgingly utilitarian rinse, I stood under the faucet and let the steam cloud my senses for a few minutes.

  One hair-drying session, a brisk bit of makeup, and a fresh set of presentable clothes later, I was traipsing towards the door.

  “Hey, have you heard anything from your Good Samaritan yet?”

  “My what?”

  “Uh, Dalton, I think he said his name was,” Natalie clarified, pausing the television. “Dude from the bar. It was weird – you hated him one moment, and then you were practically hanging on his every word the next. But he turned out to be pretty chill, all things considered.”

  “Did he?”

  The memories slowly drifted back. I faintly remembered the conversation we had. Dalton told me about his chemical engineer father, about being in the Marines for two terms, and some other things that were slipping my mind.

  “Yeah. He could have dragged you to his place, or at least tried. I was keeping an eye on you and making sure nothing funny happened. But then he walked right up to me and put you in my care instead of trying to fuck you.”

  “We wouldn’t have fucked.”

  “Oh Clara, you would have definitely fucked him. You should have seen the look in your eyes. After you warmed up to him, you would have rode that dick all night long.”

  “Ugh,” I grunted. “Was I that bad?”

  “You weren’t bad, per se, but it was a bit of a fight to get you back here. You kept trying to call the poor guy in the middle of the night.”

  “Wow,” I shook my head. “Wonder what got into me.”

  “Well, to be fair, he was definitely into you, too. And he was handsome as fuck. You two would have had extraordinary sex, and I’d have been cheering you guys on from the other side of the wall.”