1 - LARA #3
Just my luck as a woman trying to play femme fatale—the song changes, and Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande starts.
I throw my modesty to the wind, clearly the alcohol talking.
I stretch out my arm, pointing at him, letting my body take over to the beats of the sensual melody.
I put on my most lustful gaze and lock eyes with him.
If Carlos wanted to snuff out my flame, he has no idea about the power of a spark.
I have no idea who this guy is, but he's going to get a taste of my erotic potential tonight. I know I'm so much more than someone's ex. I refuse to be reduced to that! Bring on the new era!
Beside me, after an excited little squeal, Priscila joins in, showing off for Olavo, all happy and victorious. Through the haze, I hear him calling her Naughty Little Titi and her voice coming back with Big Sexy Olavo. I laugh.
Then everything starts to take on a new color—golden, warm.
I feel firm hands on my waist. He inhales deeply against my neck, breathing away my decency.
This is the kind of shiver I like! Yes! I grind my hips against his, feeling his palms roam over my body.
I sigh at the delicious sensation. Mid-dance, I lift my hair, giving him access to more skin.
The tip of his nose traces a path from my shoulder to my nape, leaving a little kiss with a light scrape of teeth.
I slide down his massive body, dropping to the floor and coming back up even more powerful, never breaking contact.
I spin around to face those eyes that swallow me whole.
You're driving me crazy. His voice is a feverish whisper.
I slide my hands over his shirt, over those enormous, defined shoulders and chest. I feel his hardness pressing against my belly.
Damn, I've never... My lustful thoughts are interrupted by Bárbara's hand yanking me by the wrist. It feels like she's breaking the magnetic bubble.
Like she's doing the impossible, separating the dipoles of a magnet.
Like my north got left behind in the middle of the dance floor.
“Hey, you want to dislocate my...?”
“Are you sure about what you're doing, girl?” she murmurs, worried.
“What? But wasn't this what you guys wanted? I'm having fun, he's so...” I can't help but lick my eager lips.
“I know, I know, sweetie, but this isn't like you, and I'm worried we pushed you too hard.”
I focus on her face, hazy through the smoke they're pumping onto the dance floor. Strangely, Bárbara's voice sounds more controlled than mine, and I'm usually the one who keeps it together to get them home afterward. Damn it, Carlos really screwed me over! Sending the Cs straight back to hell, now!
“Tatá,” I start, teasing her, “chill out and go do what I know you want to... go get laid and forget Virgílio.”
“Ugh, don't even mention that loser's name!”
Her eyes fill with tears. I regret bringing it up—she seemed better...
I think. I glance at Priscila dancing enthusiastically with Olavo, then at the hot guy waiting for me.
I assure Bárbara I'm fine—lying through my teeth—so she'll relax.
I won't leave, I just want to have fun, and I tell her to enjoy herself with whoever she's found.
Poor thing, she smiles and whispers his name like it's a secret.
I don't even know who he is. I shrug and add that if she really wants to prevent something bad, she'd better keep Pri away from the groom—now that's a huge mistake.
You don't hook up with someone else's fiancé.
She shakes her head and gives me a little kiss on the cheek.
I watch her walk away, weaving through the crowd toward our friend.
The DJ seems to really like Ariana—Into You comes on, and I make my way to the hottie, who devours me with his eyes.
I hike up my dress a bit to free up my legs.
We press together. We only pull apart to admire each other's wild moves.
Song after song blurs together with the drinks he brings us, and we sweat, tireless, until the sappy slow songs start.
Time to stop. I'm not here to catch feelings—I just desperately need to let loose.
Yeah, that's it, time to accept reality.
It can be cruel sometimes, but I know how to have some fun.
Pri's actually right, at least this time. What we need is a night of pure fun. Or maybe that's the alcohol talking. I shrug it off.
He seems to agree with getting off the dance floor. We throw ourselves onto the stools, lean against the bar, laughing hard.
I catch myself noticing how cute he is, so relaxed and carefree. The way the light plays across his face reveals little details. I like how the tip of his nose crinkles every time he laughs.
“Want to get out of here?”
He asks right by my ear, sending another delicious shiver through me. How can I say no? Sure, I could say no. But do I want to? What I want is to say yes to everything with this gorgeous man.
“Sure...” I toss my hair to the side, feeling like a femme fatale.
We cross the dance floor—no sign of those two crazy girls. Better that way. Barbs won't catch me in my little lie. I'll tell her later I grabbed a rideshare and went home.
At the club exit, he grabs me, full of want, and his lips swallow mine—soft, voracious.
What the gods did to the timeline, not even angels could explain.
When I come to, we're in a hotel room. I have no idea how we got here, how many minutes passed.
I'm pressed against the wall, his huge body against mine, his hot tongue everywhere.
I writhe in a delirious frenzy, wrapping my legs around him—already free of the dress.
“Do you... have protection?” I manage to rein in my enthusiasm long enough to ask.
He nods, almost breathless, and pulls back to look at me with desire.
I pull him back, tell him not to stop. He's like a need I can't control—I need this, I need it so much, more than I ever thought humanly possible.
Seriously, something has possessed my body.
Call the Winchesters! And now, in the middle of the night, I'm imagining those two hotties here too.
Suddenly, we're on the bed, naked. Waves of pleasure hit me, one after another. Every part of him is on me, driving me crazy with lust. All I know is my mind is screaming, begging for more and more.
At some point, for some reason, I confess that I'm obsessed with Cosmopolitans with cherry, and they only had orange at the club. I laugh, insisting it has nothing to do with Sex and the City, even though we're doing exactly that right now. I nibble his full lips.
Out of nowhere, the bathtub is full of the drink.
We sink into it, savoring the sweetness with long licks and bites.
I try positions I never imagined I'd dare.
I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.
The pleasure is indescribable. He's so...
His teeth cut off my thought, tugging my lower lip while his skilled fingers slip inside me, making me explode and arch my back.
We laugh, we howl, we moan while eating cherries, drinking in the sweet ecstasy, licking every last drop of pleasure.
It's incredible, it's madness—he knows exactly where to touch me, how to make me come again and again. I gladly accept. I realize it's also his way of catching his breath before going again.
Back in bed, we're exhausted.
He looks at me, languid, tracing lazy patterns across my torso, up to my hardened nipples.
“I wish I could get to know you better...” His voice is thick, slurred.
“Then get to know me.” My voice isn't much different. I turn my head toward him, smiling slowly, feeling a bit more grounded now, I think.
He takes his time before speaking again, his gaze wandering slowly over me.
“I don’t live in this city. I’m leaving tomorrow—well, in a few hours, actually.”
“Hmm... is it far?” I trace my fingertip along his hairline, where his nearly-shaved hair meets his forehead.
“Yes.”
That’s the last thing I remember hearing from him before I drift into a deep sleep, wrapped around him like he’s my body pillow.
I wake up to Priscila and Bárbara’s worried voices.
They’re asking if I’m okay, if I was drugged or something.
I shake my head, confused, my head pounding.
I mumble that I came straight home, called a rideshare.
Nothing major, they can relax. I sit up on the edge of the bed—I’m naked.
Barbs covers me with the sheet while Pri grabs my clothes to dress me. Oh no... crap.
I ask about him. I notice money on the nightstand. They say it’s a tip for the motel staff—apparently this place is fancy as hell. I’m in a motel... I’ve never been to a motel. I thought it was a hotel. Or his place. No, he doesn’t live here. A friend’s place? No, it’s a motel.
My friends are strangely worried, exchanging glances, but I don’t have the energy to argue, so I let them take me home.
At home, I can still smell him on me—sweet cinnamon mixed with cherry. I sigh and head to the shower, still dreamy. Seriously, this is a new era. Yes, it is. And that Greek god was the turning point. Thanks, gods! May Olympus send more like him my way.
Super Bowl... the thought pops into my head. I have no idea what it’s about except that it’s something American. Still, it sends a warm flush between my legs.