Page 11 of King of Clubs

“To us,” I said, reciprocating the gesture with my own glass.

“To my best girl who will go where she wants, when she wants,” Arna added and I gave a little cheer as we tapped our glasses.

Looking around, the bar itself was immaculate and lined with every alcohol I could imagine with a special section set aside purely for whiskey. The staff were graceful, delicate even, and from where I sat, managed the ever-growing crowd with ease. They wore high neck black blouses and the women had their hair pulled neatly away from their faces. The staff screamed sophistication and other than the scary looking security guard who stood less than two metres from us, the place held a relaxed, yet meticulous vibe. It was clear thatSexy-Thundermanhad a less is more attitude, and expected a certain level of class from his team.

I was immediately impressed and kind of turned on by the organisation.

Images of the absolute catastrophe I was the other night when I tried to Mike Tyson him in the kitchen floated into the recesses of my mind. What a contrast my clumsy self was to the glamorous staff he hired.

“Oh, shit, Thunderstorm incoming,” Arna said, as I took another sip of my outrageously delicious drink and followed her line of sight. “He's talking to Mr. I Eat Protein With Every Meal.”

Giggling, I leant towards her, careful not to be overheard. “His arms are like friggin’ Popeye, hey?”

She nodded her agreement as we swayed slightly to the music waiting for Sebastian to come over. He was still talking to Mr. Flexinator and I wished he would turn around so I could see his face again. Maybe the excess tears from our sappy movie marathon had clouded my vision and he wasn’t actually as impressive as I remembered.

Although, from where I stood it wasn’t likely. His warm brown hair was cut clean around the sides and was lusciously thick on top making me wonder how soft it would be if I was to run my hands through it – if he would groan and lean into my touch...

My intrusive thoughts were a clear sign of the significant gap in my sex life because as hot as that sounded I could bet if I got within an inch of him and his perfectly styled hair his overly-pumped buff security detail would have me on the ground in a heartbeat.

Or maybe he would throw me to the ground himself…

Fuck it was almost like I was on heat. I could see it so clearly, Sebastian pinning me to the floor while I pretended that wasn’t my intention all along.

I knew I was staring but I couldn’t seem to look away and as a waitress approached with another round of drinks, he stepped to the side to allow her space to pass, never taking his hands from his pockets. The movement, like a lighthouse guiding me to all that was heavenly, drew attention to his flexed forearms and mother may I –

“Holy shit, Arns, he is hotter than I remember!” I whisper-screamed through clenched teeth, needing to convey my unadulterated appreciation over the music but not let him or boulder-shoulders hear me. “Do you think I could lick his forearms? Respectfully, of course.”

Arna grinned before her mouth opened as if she had discovered life’s greatest mystery. “You should ask him for his number. When was the last time yougot some lovin' –and do not say six months ago. That selfish, disgusting mess of a human doesn’t count,” she scowled.

My lips pursed, my mood instantly souring and I nodded in understanding. She knew as well as I did that while I'd thought about it, I hadn't quite made it out into the world of dating just yet.

Lucas only cared about himself in the bedroom and the number of times I would be left dissatisfied and antsy while he went to sleep was obscene. While there was no chance I was going to make an offer to the man in front of me, who was not even close to being in my league, she was right. It had been a very long time since anyone had taken care of me inthatway.

Alas, tonight was about drinking and dancing,admiringhot men,imaginingif their biceps were as delicious as the limited amount of skin I could see, and getting home in one piece while pleasantly drunk – not acting on these thoughts. And definitely not riding the mysterious club owner.

My cowgirl era would have to wait.

The security guard pointed in our direction and Sebastian finally answered my prayers, turning around and consequently sending a bolt of lightning to my no longer comatose libido.

The straw stilled against my lip, my mouth going dry when I – what can only be described as ogled – the owner himself. Within seconds I felt his piercing gaze boring into me, my nipples hardening at the way he appeared to undress me with just a look. An assessing look, but who was I to complain?

“One tall order of penis for me tonight, thank you,” I mumbled to Arna who consequently choked on her drink causing me to bite my lip to hide my own mirth.

White was a good choice for him, his deep olive complexion popping against the fresh cut of the shirt. I stopped at the small section of skin where I noted the top button was left open, and then moved up to a jaw that instantly ruined the faces of any future men.

My memory was fine. Sebastian was perfectly edible.

Clean and presentable with care in all the best areas, including impeccably maintained dark facial hair and perfectly rolled sleeves. His piercing stare was aimed straight at me as I took in his features and – wait – was that a smirk?

Did he hear me?

Was he superhuman and could read my mind?

Was I noticeably salivating?

All a possibility.

He maintained a mostly aloof mask but I could swear that there was a hint of humour in his eyes. Although, based on past discretions on my part, no one would be asking me for character judgements on sight alone.

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