Glory
I slide in to the back seat of the shiny, black town car as Beck holds open the door. I’m so damn nervous, I don’t know what to do with myself. Really damn nervous. My clammy palms smooth down the fabric of my red dress. I love this dress. It’s one of my favorites. I usually feel confident, dare I say sexy when I wear it, but tonight, it doesn’t work its usual magic on my ego. I haven’t been on a date in a very long time. I’m not even sure how to act or what to talk about. Not to mention that I have never been on a date with someone as attractive as Beck. He’s all confidence and swagger. I’m all nerves and sweaty palms. My God. Did I remember to wear deodorant? I turn my head to side like I’m looking out the window and take a little test sniff of my pit. Deodorant…check.
When I opened my apartment door and saw him, it took all my will power to walk out instead of dragging him inside and having my way with him. His dark hair is styled back from his face. The few days of perfectly trimmed stubble on his angular jaw makes him look dark and intense. The black button up shirt he’s wearing looks to have been made for him. It hugs every defined muscle of his upper body. Black dress pants hug his fantastic ass. I made sure to pause while locking the door to my apartment so I could look at that tight hiney as he turned to walk to the elevator. Damn, it’s a nice one.
“You look beautiful tonight.” I turn to Beck as his hand slides into mine. He lifts my hand to his lips and places a kiss to the back of it. My nerves settle a bit when his handsome smile makes an appearance. He looks so good tonight.
“Thank you. You clean up well, Mr. Jameson.”
He leans toward me and places a lingering soft kiss to my lips. I sigh into it. He truly is so sweet. He pulls back, and his free hand comes up to caress my cheek.
“So beautiful.” His attention makes me feel shy and horny. Yeah, definitely horny.
“Where are we headed?” I really don’t care where we go. I would be happy going to a landfill with him.
“I made us a reservation at Angelica’s Etoile.”
“That sounds good. I’ve never been there.” I’ve never been there because it’s exclusive and expensive as hell. Reservations don’t happen unless you are someone, know someone who is someone, or just so rich and powerful that the restaurant wants the attention of having someone famous dine there. Sometimes I forget that Beck is a rock star. He’s just so down to earth. Plus, I have yet to see that side of him. Of course, he has the means to pull off a last-minute reservation.
“Sir, I think we have a complication.”
Beck and I look toward the driver and out the front windshield. Holy shit. Paparazzi swarm outside the entrance of the restaurant.
“How the hell did they know I was coming?”
If I was nervous before, now I am terrified. Holy shit that’s a lot of cameras. We pull up to the front of the restaurant, and the flashes of the cameras light up the growing darkness of the night.
Beck squeezes my hand. “Glory, I need you to look at me.”
I turn from the blinding lights and meet his eyes. His face just moments ago was filled with happiness. Now, the crease between his low drawn brows and the set of his jaw has replaced his smile. I can tell he’s pissed and worried. Just for the record, a pissed off Beckett Jameson is sexy as hell.
“I don’t know how they figured out where I would be tonight, but we can leave. We can go somewhere else. I can take you back home, if that’s what you want.”
At his last statement, I see the furrow deepen between his brows. He’s pissed his plans for our evening have been ruined. Well, fuck you fate. That bitch has cock-blocked me at every turn. I will not let shit ruin this date, and at the end of the night, I’m riding Beck into the sunset.
“I’m famished. Let’s get in there and eat.”
His answering smile is brighter to me than any flash bulb.
“You hold my hand. You don’t let go. They’ll bombard you with questions. Just keep your head down and stay behind me. Okay, babe?” He squeezes my hand, and I nod my agreement.
“Patrick, I’ll take it from here. I’ll call you when we are ready to be picked up.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be waiting just down the street.”
Beck turns to me. “You ready for this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Here we go. Remember, do not let go of my hand.”
He smiles before he turns, pushes the car door open, and steps out. My hand is still in his as I slide across the seat and exit the car.
It is fucking chaos. I can’t see shit. The cameras fire in rapid succession, and I recall Beck told me to keep my head down, so I do. Beck’s grip tightens on my hand as he pulls me through the throng of photographers and people who have gathered to see what is going on. The photographers hurl question after question in rapid succession at Beck. They shout them out over top of one another.
"Is this your new girlfriend?”
“Are you in love?”
“How will Tricia handle this news?”
That causes me to have a question of my own. Who the hell is Tricia and why would she care about this?
We finally get inside the doors, and although the cameras continue their barrage, I can no longer hear the commotion outside.
“Good evening, Mr. Jameson. We are so pleased to have you dine with us tonight.” A well-dressed gentleman comes up, and Beck shakes his hand.
“Thanks for getting us in on such short notice, William. I appreciate it.”
“We are happy to accommodate you at any time, Mr. Jameson. Please allow me to take your coats while Kelly shows you to your table.” He gestures toward the hostess, and she asks us to follow her after we hand our coats to William.
As she escorts us through the restaurant, I watch women’s heads turn and follow Beck with their heated glances. I can’t blame them for looking. I’m looking too.
The hostess stops outside a set of thick, wooden double doors and gestures with her long slim arm for us to enter. It’s beautiful. Stepping into the room, I’m awe-struck. The walls are encased in softly distressed, white washed wood. Underfoot are time-worn, dark stained wooden floors that peek out from beneath a massive, jewel-toned Persian rug. The rug is so large, it covers most of the floor in the expansive room. Large, white candles rest in silver and glass hurricanes and are spread across the mantle while a small fire burns inside the fireplace.
The table has been set for two. A gorgeous arrangement of roses that overflow from a large filigree silver bowl rest upon a white linen tablecloth that hangs beautifully to the floor below. The table is perched in front of a wall made up of windows. Beyond the windows lies a deck filled with potted evergreen trees that are lit with soft garden lights. Their soft glow shines on the river beyond. The lights from the city also reflect on the water, and it is stunning.
“This is beautiful.” I turn from the view to look at Beck, whose eyes are locked onto me.
“Nowhere near as beautiful as you.”
Now, if anyone ever asks, I’ll likely leave this part out. The view, the restaurant, the rock star, the way Beck is looking at me like I’m what he wants to eat…it’s all too much for my romance-hungry, sex-starved brain to take. So, I do the only thing that I can. The look on his face as I charge at him is priceless. At first, it’s confusion and shock, then it turns into acknowledgement, right before I pull off some sort of lucha libre fighter move and tackle him to the floor. In Mexican wrestling, I will be known as El Gigolo Mas Sexy. Fire lights up his eyes, and fuck, it turns me on even more. Our lips crash and any hope of civility has flown out the window. One day, I have no doubt I’ll be embarrassed about my behavior but right now, in this moment, all my fucks have flown out the window.
We roll around and around on the floor, kissing, groping, wild, before I come out on top, straddling him. I grab the top of his shirt, where he has left the top few buttons undone, and I pull. It rips apart, and buttons fly across the beautiful room and scatter over the rug covered wood floor before coming to rest. Beck looks down at his exposed chest for a few moments. This pause gives me enough time to realize what I’ve just done. This beautiful man tried to take me out on a fancy date, treat me like a lady, and I just attacked him like a crazed lunatic hussy and ripped his clothes off. Oh, my God. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Beck, I…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what the hell got into me.”
My head hangs down. I’m so embarrassed by my behavior, I can’t even look at him. I start to plant my feet under me so I can get up off his perfect, hard erection that is currently nestled into my wet panties. God, he’s so hard. Before I can rise to my feet, his hands land on my hips in a bruising grip. He tugs me down onto his erection as he presses it up into me. I groan before raising my face to look at his.
“That was the hottest fucking shit I have ever seen in my life.”
He raises into an almost sitting position as one of his hands winds its way into the back of my hair. Using my hair, he pulls my face toward his. When his lips find mine, it’s the deepest, most passionate kiss I’ve ever had in my life. I feel it race through my very soul. This kiss has obliterated every kiss I’ve ever had. Jack never made me feel this way. Not even close. My heart dances in my chest, and I recognize what that feeling is. I’m falling for Beckett Jameson.
He swallows my moans as I begin to grind on his pant-covered erection. The friction adds to my frenzied need to have him in me now. He continues his upward thrusts as he pushes my dress up my thighs. I continue my rolling and rubbing into him. My desperation is off the charts at this point. I need Beckett Jameson like I need air to breath.
With Beck cradling me in his embrace, my blood courses through my veins like a wild fire. He turns us until he rests on top of me, where he settles between my legs. Pulling back from our kiss, he rests his forehead against mine.
“Glory, you’re so damn beautiful, you drive me fucking crazy. I have no control over myself where you’re concerned. I can’t keep my hands off you. I don’t want to keep my hands off you. You ever fucked in a restaurant full of people, Glory? I promise you, I am fucking you right here, right now, if you don’t stop me.”
At the tone of his declaration, I gulp audibly before replying to his question.
“No, can’t say that I have."
“Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me.”
I’m not telling him any of that shit. He can fuck me on a table in the view of every diner here for all I care. Invite the paparazzi in. I’m good with that too.
“I want it. I really fucking want you, Beck. I’ve never wanted anything as much as…”
A few desperate strokes of his tongue against mine obliterate the feelings I was trying to convey to him. Gripping my hair on both sides of my head, he uses it as leverage to direct our kiss. His tight grip sends ripples of pleasure through my body. I’ve never felt so wanted, so desirable, cherished, horny. Jesus am I horny. Every touch, sound, even his scent drives me higher into this lust filled oblivion. Beck has a way of making me feel like I am the sexiest woman on the planet, the only woman in his orbit. A girl could get used to that real quick.
He pulls one hand from my hair and places his elbow on the floor beside me before moving his weight from me and onto his arm. His other hand finds the ties of my red wrap dress, and he begins to untie it with one hand. My nipples pebble as he pulls my dress open, exposing my black lace lingerie. His eyes eat me up while his fingers trail leisurely over my breast encased in black lace.
“You trying to make me come in my pants, babe? This looks sexy as hell on you. Did you think about how hard my cock would get when I saw you in this?”
“Yes.” My answer is nothing more than a breathy moan. My brain is short-circuiting. I couldn’t string a sentence together right now if my life depended on it. His finger traces maddening circles around my right nipple, and the sensations burst through my body like a super nova heading straight toward my clit.
His fingers trail down from the curve of my breast, across my ribs, and to my abdomen. Chill bumps travel like a wake in water behind his finger as that delicious digit travels lower toward the place where I need it most. I writhe underneath him, arching my back from the floor when the tip of his finger barely grazes back and forth under the edge of my panties. He slowly glides underneath the edge of the lace lower toward my pussy. It’s pure fucking torture as only the very tip of his finger traces my flesh underneath the lace. I moan, and the sound is full of need and frustration. I’ve never wanted a man inside me so much in my life.
“Beck…” I whine and don’t even care how desperate it is. He’s toying with the lace of my panties, that finger sliding back and forth. He touches me everywhere except where I want him to touch the most. Again, I say his name and grab his wrist in a tight grip, trying to push his hand where I want it.
“Yes, Glory?” I have my eyes closed, but I can tell by the tone of his voice, he’s smiling and enjoying the fact that he’s driving me insane one soft caress at a time.
“Please, Beck.” My plea almost sounds painful from my pent-up desire.
“Please what, beautiful? Tell me what you need."
“Please…” Touch me, fuck me, lick me? Does he want me to beg? I totally fucking will.