2. Lorde
Lorde
I met a girl today.
Just a regular ol’ walking cliché, that’s me.
This one, though? She’s special. Really special. I’m not talking about her cute face or her attractive figure, either. I’m talking about the whole damn package.
Feisty. Big, smart mouth. Yet still so damn elegant in the way she chews me out.
You know, the only kind of girl I could think of as “my” girl if I were to settle down at this point in my life.
Not that I have any intention of doing so.
I’m young, I’ve got wild oats to sow, and no lack of women lining up to take a ride on the Lorde Sheen Express.
I learned that good shit from my mother.
You might know her… Camilla Sheen? Even though she had me later than most at the time, I still had about four different Daddy figures and a real Dad who didn’t give a shit about me growing up.
That does stuff to a young, impressionable woman.
Somehow, when I wasn’t screwing around, with girls, I did well enough in school to get accepted to Stanford for undergrad and Harvard Business School after. Not that I’m thinking about going…
But I don’t blame my mother for any of it.
Considering our unique situation, she did the best that she could to raise me between here and California.
Let’s say she was working her ass off to win another Oscar when I was hitting puberty and had no idea where to transfer my crazy, sexual urges.
So started my life being with a different girl every week.
Okay, sometimes only one for a whole month.
You get what I mean! I like to date around!
The sudden thought of having one girl for the rest of my life is brand spanking new to me. I’ve got Daisy DeMonte to thank. That gorgeous vixen who hails as one of the country’s most expensive heiresses.
She’s snobby. She’s annoying. She’s the hottest girl ever, and I’ve seen a million.
It’s not unusual for me to see a hottie and instantly start thinking of sex.
How I’m going to seduce her. How I’m going to make her mine.
Even if it’s for one day, I want that woman to think that she’s all mine.
I’m going to blow her mind and take care of her unlike any other could.
They usually leave in the morning, but they’ve got that fantasy now stashed away for the next time they’re alone – or with someone who can’t find her clit.
That’s what I was thinking when I met Ashleigh a few days ago. That I wanted to see how quickly I could get under that tight skirt and bury my face in that long neck of hers.
Anyway. Daisy DeMonte. A girl I’ve only heard of in passing and the tabloids, when I bother to flip through them.
When I saw her today, strutting into the restaurant like the hottest shit on Earth, I was overcome with that same feeling of make her mine .
Yet it was somehow different. It wasn’t only my body begging me to do unseemly things to another one of society’s good girls.
It was my… heart? Yeah, that thing. Thumping harder than ever!
I could make a crack about it pumping extra blood to my hands so I could impress her with how well I feel her up, but I don’t think that would make my point well.
So what did I do? What I always do when I have no idea how else to seduce a woman. I say whatever the hell comes to mind without a damn filter, hoping that whatever natural charm I exude will be another to garner her interest.
Instead, I took it way too far, and now she absolutely despises me. She stormed out of the restaurant in the middle of a double date.
Great job, Lorde!
I’m quiet for the rest of the day. Ashleigh is all over me with her superficial attraction.
I can tell it’s fake by this point in my life.
I doubt I could tell her anything about myself and she would care.
She’s simply seen the photos, read the stories, heard scandalous tales from her social circles, and now wants a piece of me.
That said, I can tell she’s been with women before.
She lets slip exactly what she expects once we’re alone, based on a previous experience she also drops like I’m not going to be weirded out by her telling me sordid tales of butches she’s bedded in between male heartthrobs and non-binary busybodies.
I get it. I’m probably a fetish to her. I’m a woman who has been around a G-spot a few times with all sorts of implements (including my hands, thank you.) Nothing is sacred in my bed.
I’ll wine you, dine you, and sixty-nine you until you’re screaming nice!
with two big thumbs up on either side of my ass.
Usually, I would give it to her. I’ve got a reputation to keep up, you know.
It wouldn’t be hard. Kiss her. Touch her.
Throw her down on my bed and give her the ol’ Lorde Sheen rough ‘n ready. Sometimes, when I’m already bored I make a game out of sex.
How fast can I make her come so I can come?
Those can be the best times if it turns out our quiet and sweet high-society girl is a freak in the sack.
I’m not interested in that now.
Somehow, though, we end up in my apartment.
She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. Ashleigh Lee is down to fuck, and she’s hot enough that most would call me an idiot for turning her down.
“Look at the way she’s shoving her tits up toward you!
How many references to boning has she made?
You think she’s playing coy? Hooooon, she’s totally gonna bend over your bed and pull down her panties at any moment!
Come on. A ten-minute quickie! You gonna love yourself or not? ”
Except it’s like a switch has gone off in my head, and try as I might, I don’t feel attracted to her anymore. Daisy’s face keeps transposing itself on Ashleigh’s every time I look at her. Even I know that’s messed up and wrong.
While we’re standing in the middle of my apartment, talking about nothing at all, Ashleigh stands on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my lips.
I’m sure it could turn passionate, but I never open my mouth to find out.
Ashleigh’s confused and offended when she steps away and gives me a hard stare. “What’s wrong?” she asks, getting ready to unleash her spoiled rich-girl pout on me. “Did I do something wrong?”
Aw, shit. I can tell from the look on her face that she’s not prodding me to open up.
She really thinks she has done something wrong.
Ashleigh Lee is one of those girls who worries about every single thing and is obsessed with what others think of her.
They’re a handful. Their egos are as small as mine is big.
Sometimes, I wish I could chip off a piece of my ego and fuse it into them. Every bit helps, right?
“Hey, Ashleigh,” I say, forcing her to meet my gaze. Here’s a hint: I don’t say a girl’s name like this unless I’m about to let her down. “You’re a beautiful girl. Seriously. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
She’s smiling, but traces of worry line her lips. You could probably tell Ashleigh Lee that she’s the queen of your universe, and she would still doubt you. No wonder she’s friends with Daisy DeMonte.
Honesty is the best policy, right?
“Listen, there’s someone else on my mind right now. I hate to tell you this late, but I didn’t think it meant anything. Sorry…”
I’ve never seen someone blink as much as Ashleigh does. It’s like every time a synapse fires in her brain, she’s gotta blink. Some kind of strange reflex. Wait, do I do that too? “Is it Daisy?” she meekly asks.
“Uh…” I wasn’t going to be that honest. What? You think I’m mean enough to tell the girl I’m on a date with that I think her best friend is hotter and more worthy of my time? Maybe my reputation is that bad after all… “Why would you think that?”
Ashleigh makes a face I’ve yet to see – a mix of disbelief and condescension. “That’s how it usually goes. Everyone likes her a lot. You two seemed to hit it off, so…”
“Hit it off? Were you even there?”
“You provoked a huge reaction out of her. She’s usually a lot more in control of her emotions. The only time she lashes out like that is when she thinks someone’s worth her time.”
“I see.”
Ashleigh readjusts her purse strap. “I’ve gotta get going. Thanks for lunch. I’m sorry for making this awkward.”
“Hey, don’t apologize. I kinda led you on.”
She looks at me as if I’m the sorriest bitch around. “Yeah, you did. That’s okay, though. Better for you to reject me now than in the middle of doing it. That’s happened to me before.”
“Yikes.” How do you respond to that?
“By the way,” she says, hovering near my door. “If you try it with my friend, good luck. She’s not as easy as me.”
Was that supposed to be cheeky? To make me rethink sleeping with her? Because what the fuck. That merely makes me think she should leave. Harder. Leave harder, Ashleigh. This wouldn’t be good for either of us.
“Thanks for the warning.”
Ashleigh shows herself out. I’m left alone in my cozy apartment, and all I want to do is sit on the edge of my rumpled bed and think of Daisy. A woman I haven’t even seen since we had lunch hours ago.
It didn’t matter if she was pissed or trying to contain herself.
Her eyes were made of the iciest fire I had ever seen.
I know it’s cliché to say a girl’s blue eyes are like ice.
Well, it’s very true in Daisy DeMonte’s case.
Every time I made eye contact with her, the room grew about ten degrees colder, as if someone had drawn an ice cube down my arm.
You know what that means, though: she’s extra hot in the places that matter most.
Those chills take me now. They’re exploding from within, blasting my heart down like the sinking ship it is.
Before I know it, I’m lying back on my bed and thinking about Daisy. Surprise! I’m turned on. The moment I reach beneath my shirt, wondering how turned on I am, I’m thinking of Daisy’s head on my lap, her breath terribly close to my thighs.
And imagining her pulling down the front of that breezy sundress.
Showing me her breasts, which were more than nice to look at in a dress.
Kissing me hard, turning me into a wild bear that only wants her hidden honey.
Daisy would be the type of feisty woman who pulls off that tablecloth and all the cutlery on her terms. She’d do it just to hop in front of me and spread her legs, teasing me with her body that she touches in a rhythm only we women know.
“Fuck me, Lorde. Put me in my place and make me yours. Show me what it’s like to be taken by someone worthy of my time.”
Shit. My bra isn’t worth my time. More like I should unzip my jeans and get this quickie with myself over with.
My middle finger moves up and down the length of my slit, right between my denim and my cotton underwear. I sigh, resting my head against the nearest pillow and imagining that it’s Daisy’s pussy I’m fingering instead of my own.
The whole restaurant would watch. Or maybe not. Who cares? Time has stopped so we can have our rough and furious fuck on a dining table. I grab those long, silky brown locks and pull. Daisy cries out, my hand buried in her pussy that only gets tighter as she readies to come.
I can see it. The look of sheer, feisty ecstasy on her face as she caves to my talents.
She doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s the best lay of her life.
(Let alone on a table, ahem.) Her big blue eyes gaze at me with speechless awe as she cranes her pointed chin over her shoulder and drinks in how calm I am as I fuck her harder.
It’s the only way to tame a spoiled heiress like her.
My groans of pleasure are only interrupted as I’m rudely reminded of my hand instead of her body wrapped around me.
That I’m probably never going to experience a moment like this with one of the only women I’ve decided deserves everything I’ve taught myself in the bedroom after a life full of lusting after half the women I see.
Kill this fantasy, Lorde. You’re only going to piss yourself off. There’s gotta be someone else. Find that black book and call up the first available girl to come by so I can fuck her, thoughts of Daisy constantly intruding.
I don’t want another girl. I want her . I want Daisy DeMonte’s lips locked on mine… and possibly a few other places as well.
I jerk up on my bed. The most brilliant idea has entered my mind.
See, I’ve got an interview for my mother’s latest movie to do in an hour. It’s going to be the perfect opportunity to start setting in motion the only way I’ll get Daisy DeMonte’s hot, firm ass in my bed – and my tongue inside of her.
First, though, I’ve got something else to take care of.