Twenty-One Ch. 01

"Then you'd fit right in."

"Oh ... You think?" She'd giggle and blush and try to look demure in such moments, while he smiled benignly on her confusion. Each time her words threatened to falter he'd bear her up with some compliment or some inquiry that showed deeper interest. Her inhibitions in his presence were melting away so that she could talk more fluidly, laugh with him and be her relaxed flirty self. It occurred to her that he was letting her reveal all about herself while giving little away, but she didn't mind that. It was exciting that he retained his mystery.

"You're quite the advertisement for the city of London," she ventured, after he'd ordered more drinks. "Like, you should be on billboards. You'll wow them at that meeting tomorrow, I'm sure."

"It's charming of you to say so, and charming that you'd neglect your friends so you can talk to a stranger in a strange land."

"Oh." She faltered and tried not to look crestfallen. "You think I should ..."

"I think that friends who pull dares on a girl's birthday deserve to be neglected, don't you?"

"Well, I ..." Brooke wasn't sure what she thought about that, but his smile as he said it was gratifying. Deeply so.

"I'm guessing the instigator was the blonde princess in the white dress, the one who tried to push her phone number on me earlier and who's been looking daggers at you ever since we sat down together."

"Yeah, that'd be her." So Kimber had been spare with the truth. God, like she'd ever shoot this guy down. Quite a gamble the blonde had taken in assuming that the aloof English gent would mete out similar treatment to her competition, and how the gamble had failed. Brooke's insides were gorgeously warmed by the thought. "Not your type then?" she inquired sweetly.

"An entitled rich girl who needed taking down a peg? Not my type, although I might be tempted to teach her a proper lesson on another night. Please don't be offended. She's your friend after all."

"No offence taken," Brooke assured, although she could not help but wonder what the 'proper lesson' might entail. "It's good she doesn't get her own way all the time."

He leaned closer, whiskey tumbler cupped in his broad palm. "So tell me, Brooke, how jealous do you want to make her?"

The breath caught in her throat. There was a devilment in his face at odds with the harshness she's seen there originally. This man was siding with her in a game at Kimber's expense and it thrilled her. "Like—really jealous?" She said it in a near-whisper, and then had to choke back another nervous giggle.

"Okay—well once we've finished off these drinks, what say we walk out of here together?" He ran a finger over her wrist so lightly it made the tiny hairs there prickle.

"You know somewhere else we can go?"

"It's my first and last night in town and the only place I know is my hotel room. But on the plus side it's spacious and luxurious and the room-service looks impressive. We could relax and have some privacy there, unless you care to suggest somewhere better." She opened her mouth, but panic and excitement stalled any words. "Is that terribly forward of me, Brooke?"

"Yes," she said, laughing in her nervousness. "Yes, it is."

"So does that mean you're saying no to the idea?"

He delivered the line with such lightness of touch that it disarmed her. "No. I mean, I'm not saying 'no'. Not necessarily ..." He smiled and swigged his whiskey. She sipped her drink and eyed him over the glass, hoping that the thumping in her chest wasn't betrayed by any giveaway tics on her face. The taste of danger was stronger in her mouth than that of the mint.

"Drink up," he said. "We can celebrate your birthday better if it's just the two of us, believe me."

She swallowed down the julep, needing the courage Kimber had earlier mentioned. Then on a scared impulse she said, "I feel kind of bad about my friend Stacey. She wasn't part of the whole dare thing; in fact she was trying to stop it. It seems a bit mean to leave her."

He considered her a moment and seemed to arrive at a decision. "Look, I'm a fly-by-night, Brooke—here today and gone tomorrow. True I saw an opportunity for an interlude with a charming and attractive young woman and I grabbed at it, but friendships are much more important. So if you think you should ..."

"No!" Brooke leapt in, a new type of panic overtaking her. "No, no—she'll understand. She'll be fine about it, really. Let me just text her and we'll go. It'll be fun. She'll love the look on Kimber's face, I promise." Her sudden insistence amused him and the wickedness of his laugh stole her breath completely. She delved into her purse to avoid his gaze and rattled off a text to Stacey. HE'S ASKED ME AND I'M GOING WITH HIM. WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO? SORRY BABY, I'LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU. PROMISE. X When she looked up he was still eyeing her, clearly entertained.

"You're quite some young lady."

"And you're a gentleman, right?"

The pause made her shudder to her nipples. "Is that what you want me to be?" Before she could scrape together an answer he stood and offered her his hand. "I'm playing with you, Brooke, that's all. Come on, let's shock your friends."

His smile drew out hers. She took the proffered hand, rose and floated from the club and its bright lights on a wave of euphoria at this handsome stranger's side. The summer night air burned hot on her cheeks as they made their way onto the sidewalk.

"Taxi!"

Fifth Avenue was busy with traffic, but somehow that commanding arm flagged down a cab within seconds. Then a gentlemanly nature seemed to evince itself when he opened the door for her. She slipped into the taxi's rear and enjoyed the frisson as her companion rested his imposing frame next to her. Together they clicked their safety-belts.

"Plaza Hotel," he instructed the driver and Brooke's eyes widened at mention of the five-star location. The New York Plaza, I don't believe it! Kimber would seethe to think she had missed out on a romantic liaison at such an exclusive place. Gavin smiled to see her excitement. "A business trip should be no more arduous than it has to be, don't you think, Brooke?"

"I'm sure you owe yourself some luxury with a busy day ahead."

"Exactly what I was thinking." He ran a finger lightly over her cheekbone and she clutched her purse to disguise the extent to which her body was trembling. Already the cab had slipped out from the kerbside into the stream of car lights. "Whereas you're thinking 'How the hell did I end up in a cab with a man twice my age who I don't even know?' Am I right?"

"Maybe," she said. Her eyes did not shift from his, however thunderous her heartbeat. "A little."

"Are you a good girl, Brooke?"

Oh god. No doubt then as to where the evening was headed. She endeavoured to retain her cool. That was if she'd displayed any to begin with. "What do you think?"

His palm flexed to cradle the side of her face and he'd put his lips on hers before she had time to react. The taste of Scotch was fresh and sour on his tongue, and his aftershave was sharp in her nostrils. The kiss was firm, slow and rhythmic, drawing from her a full-mouthed response as her body melted into his Armani-wrapped frame. His restrained hunger absorbed her senses and blotted out all sensible thought till his mouth broke from hers.

"I think," he told her, fingers still caressing her face, "that that was a good-girl kiss. Very pleasant, but good-girl nonetheless."

Her response was instinctive. She hadn't set out on her birthday evening to be labelled a 'good-girl'. Gripping his face with both hands she kissed his hard mouth, plunging her tongue and lapping at his, her body pressing close and the taxi guy could look all he damn well liked. Her heart-rate surged from her boldness with this great strong man. When she let him go she was panting with the rush, but bit her bottom lip to disguise it. "What about that one?"

"Definite bad-girl potential," he said voice heavy with approval. "Tell me, Brooke, what's the baddest thing you've ever done?"

The question stalled her show of courage. "That's a presumptuous question to ask a girl you've only met."

"This from the girl who hit on me while I was standing minding my own business. Presumption's fun, Brooke, and you know it."

Neon and sodium lights were flashing all around them as the taxi slalomed through the traffic flow. Brooke was playing some scary game with the guy who'd invented its rules and nothing in her life to date had felt so exciting. "I suppose that's a good point."

"You damn well know it is. Now tell me a wicked secret."

"You tell me one in return?"

"Absolutely, I've got a few."

Oh god, I'll bet you have. His hands were still on her, prying into her hair and idly stroking her netted thigh. Those eyes considered her with calm interest. "Okay then." She reached into her recent past for something sufficiently wicked and took a deep breath before sharing.

"There was this party at Kimber's apartment. My blonde friend who made a move on you earlier tonight." Brooke couldn't resist alluding to her rival's failure. She relished recounting the party anecdote for similar reasons, but tried to phrase it tastefully. "Well everyone was pretty drunk, Kimber more than anyone, and I bumped into a guy she'd been dating when I was leaving the bathroom. We had a bit of a ... you know, encounter. He'd been flirting with me even as she was showing him off to everyone and I suppose I couldn't resist. I hadn't intended it and it was no big deal, we didn't do anything too terrible. Not really." She wilted under the stranger's stare, shying away from lewd detail.

"How terrible?" he pursued, voice gentle but insistent. "Tell me. Don't be coy."

"We didn't ... you know ... do it." She cringed to have uttered such a childish euphemism. The phrase 'have sex' had died in her throat. She tried to compensate for her nervousness with a mischievous flourish. "Let's just say I made him a very happy boy before he left that bathroom. And let's hope Kimber didn't need the use of him too soon after." She giggled, and Gavin laughed with her, a warm laugh of collusion that seemed to accept her as a grown-up.

"I trust no evidence was left of the encounter."

She recalled Kyle Grover's jerking hips and the hot rush of his sperm down her throat. A rare and guilty victory, to hijack Kimber's date and orally drain his balls while the blonde was lolling about on a beanbag somewhere in a haze of alcohol and pot. "None," she said, and stalled when she thought to add "Not a drop". It was too explicit an admission of sluttiness to this handsome Englishman. Instead she said, "Now you."

"My turn?"

"You promised. Share and share alike. I've told you the absolute naughtiest thing I've ever done and I hardly know you. Makes a girl feel vulnerable, so yes, your turn, Mister. Come on, spill."

"God, Brooke, so many to choose from. Somehow I don't think I'm getting into heaven anytime soon. You sure you want to hear?"

"Damn straight I do. You started this. Besides, I want to know exactly who I'm dealing with here."

"Once again, that's more than fair." He paused to consider, fingers still strumming the threading of her tights. How he scared her, this man, even as he entertained. "It's hard to quantify, but in terms of pure shock value—and I'm sensing that at least part of you is hoping to be shocked—I'd pick an incident from earlier this summer. Suggesting that I'm not learning from the folly of youth."

"Tell me." Her trepidation was indeed mixed with a hope that after its build-up the story would not disappoint.

"As you wish." He leaned close, his tone more intimate. "I attended a wedding mid-July, accompanied by a girl who performs at the club I co-own. But my date for the occasion wasn't the woman with whom I spent the most entertaining part of the evening."

"So you dumped your date? Went off with a guest? One of the bridesmaids?" Not the shattering revelation she'd anticipated.

"Wrong on all counts, my dear. My date was privy to everything that went on, in fact she helped out. And my agenda that day concerned the beautiful bride."

"The ... No, you don't mean ..."

"She was exquisitely beautiful," he told her. His tone intensified as the tale unfolded, eyes fast on Brooke, playfulness giving way to something more steely. "Quite the perfect summer bride in pristine white, swearing solemn vows to God before a church full of onlookers. They'd have imagined her devoted to her handsome groom and maybe she was in her own way. But she and I had unfinished business. Business we concluded to my satisfaction before the reception was done."

He paused to let the words permeate. She stared at him confounded. "You ..."

"... Fucked her, Brooke, on the nuptial bed. The groom was busy holding court to family and friends downstairs, happily unaware that I was in the bridal suite buried to the balls in his new wife."

Which threw her more, the story's shocking content or its blunt delivery, Brooke was not sure. "You're kidding me. Right?"

"I don't joke regarding with whom I've had sex. Nor is it something about which I tend to brag. But I'm paying your honesty with my own. I took her and I took her hard, in her wedding dress and out of it. She kept the veil on throughout though and made it back in time for the dancing." Gavin's fingers gently kneaded Brooke's thigh.

"How... How could she ..."

"End up riding the wrong man's cock on her wedding day?" He looked amused. "From the expression on her face she was asking the same question, but she came as hard as I did nonetheless."

Brooke's breath was stolen. She could sense Gavin's enjoyment at her reaction and attempted to rein in her shock. It occurred to her in her flummoxed state that the cab was gliding through Midtown East, minutes from the Plaza. "You ... didn't feel any—you know—guilt?"

"She might have. Fucking great is what I felt, during and after. I've no use for guilt, Brooke. I've worked damned hard to get where I am and I make sure I reward myself. Life's pleasures are there to be seized and enjoyed to the full. That's my way of thinking and I'm letting you know before we arrive at our destination. Now if you want the good driver here to take you back to your friends or somewhere else once we get there, name it and I'll sort out the fare in advance. Your call. And your phone's ringing."

"What? Oh ... Yes, it is."

Brooke had zoned out her cell's chime, so bewildered was she by Gavin's horny confession. Several text messages had also gone unattended, she noticed.

"Hey." She responded vaguely to Stacey's call, Gavin's gaze sucking up all her attention. God, had he really said what she thought he'd done?

"Brooke, where the hell are you? You okay? We're really worried." Brooke doubted that the other two were greatly bothered, but to Stacey at least she owed an explanation.

"I'm fine." She wasn't at all sure that was the truth. She was seated in a taxicab with a man who fucked other men's brides on their wedding day and then told it as an anecdote. "Really, I'm okay."

"What were you thinking, leaving like that?" Anger was vying with concern in her friend's voice.

"I'm sorry, spur of the moment. Just kinda happened."

"Where are you?"

"In a taxi. I'm ... We're going to ... to ... We're going for a drink." Gavin's face betrayed the hint of a smile. She imagined that drinking didn't figure much in his immediate plans.

"Be careful. You don't know anything about this guy."

Brooke reckoned she knew enough—that he was a specific kind of dangerous, not quite that which Stacey had in mind. She glanced down at the pleated crotch of his pants and was sure she didn't imagine the seismic motion going on beneath. "I'm good," she told her friend, suppressing a shudder. "Honestly, don't worry about me. I'll call you later."

The great columned exterior of the Plaza Hotel was looming into view, its entryway illumining the New York night in a bright-yellow glow, as she terminated the call. He was still contemplating her, this morally reprehensible man, awaiting her response as the taxi blinked its way to the kerb. "So Brooke," he inquired casually, "what's it to be? Now that you know how terribly bad I am, do you want to spend the rest of your birthday in my company?"

Damn, the heel owned up to something that appalling, revelled in her shock and still expected her to accompany him to his hotel room. The gall of the man. He honestly thought she was going to say yes. He really believed it!

"Yes," she said, swallowing. "Yes, I do. I'm not frightened of you, Gavin."

"Liar." He smiled and crumpled several bills into the taxi-guy's palm. Then he proffered his hand. She took it like she was giving herself body and soul to the Devil. Sheer pride would not let her back out from this point on. "Come on, birthday girl," he said. "Let's go celebrate."

The cabbie grinned back over his shoulder. He was a stubbled young guy, blond and good-looking with an Eastern European accent. "Enjoy your celebration," he said to her. His eyes flicked over Brooke, and then he winked at Gavin. "And I know you're going to enjoy it, my friend."

"That I am."

They shared a brief grin of camaraderie as Gavin slid from the back seat, drawing Brooke after him. The young driver was still smiling to himself in enjoyment of his English passenger's good fortune as she swung the door shut.

Oh well, she thought staring up at the hotel's twenty stories of granite-carved grandeur, if I'm going to be ravished (and she was so going to be ravished, she knew) it might as well be here.

"So," her new companion asked her as they set off and she scuttled in her heels to keep up with his broad strides, "first time in the Plaza?"

She could hear innuendo in everything he said now. "Yes." Conversation was tough in the circumstances. That she was climbing the red-carpeted steps of the New York Plaza's magnificent, canopied entrance could not help but thrill her, more so hanging on the arm of such a debonair beau. Of course her slutty off-the-shoulder dress and starry tattoo did feel incongruous. She was way too down-market for the high ceilings, glittering chandeliers and vast gold-flecked spaces of the entrance hall. And for the glorious marble stairway, splitting off at the first landing and sweeping off to the hotel's luxury bedrooms and suites.

But then she wasn't there to be romanced, was she? That much had become abundantly clear in the back of the cab and the firmness of his grip as he swept her through the hallway reinforced the point. Romance was for women who matched his James Bond image, but Brooke was a silly girl too easily impressed by his cool arrogance. She was only getting a cursory look at the hotel's glamorous trappings—its potted palms and ornate plasterwork—as he propelled her smoothly towards the elevator. This man had other concerns.

"I'm not getting the full tour, then?" It was a bold quip, she thought, quivering as she was next to her seducer while the elevator descended to collect them.

"You can go look around later if you like," he said, "but it won't be a swanky hotel you remember in the morning. Trust me on that." She saw it again, as she had when he told his wedding tale, a raw carnality seeping out from beneath that elegant façade. It was in his eyes and straining against the crotch of his pants. He was driven by hunger and she had as good as offered herself to him back in the bar.

Oh god, he's going to have me on a cracker.

She could still run. There was time. What was he going to do, hurtle after her through the foyer? He'd just go find someone else to satisfy his needs. But the thought sparked jealousy within her that stalled the impulse to flee. She was still wrestling with her doubts as the elevator doors rolled smoothly apart and disgorged itself of occupants.