Chapter 2

Arcadia

Oh, my God. Xavier Dean! The hottest fashion designer in the world. Of course, I knew who he was, I knew it the minute he walked over to the table. He was so much sexier in real life. He had a strongly sculpted face with ice blue eyes and tousled brown hair. I knew he was in his early forties, yet he had a unique and timeless look, reminding me of a romance novel cover. Not a slutty novel, but one where the hero sweeps the heroine off her feet being perfect and dashing.

I didn’t want to go fangirling on him, and I knew if I let him in, I’d do anything he wanted. By the way, his eyes were staring at me, anything was definitely on the menu. The man was a billboard for sex; literally. There was one just outside the hotel. His ads were hot, his clothes were hotter, and he was number five on the ten most sexy men in America 2018 list. I was so screwed. If I didn’t back away from him at that very moment, I was never going to get out with my maidenhood intact.

I wasn’t exactly a virgin; I’d had sex a couple of times, unremarkable sex which was feverish and clandestine. My dad was a brute. He’d frightened off more men than I could count. I liked surfer boys usually, but they were no match for my businessman father who had ties to the mob. He was mostly an astute businessman who hung out with gangsters, but it scared people off just the same. I knew some of what he did was shady, that’s why I was reluctant to come on our “dad and daughter” trip to Vegas, where he promptly ditched me after registering us in separate rooms.

I was bored playing the slot machines, so I tried to get tickets for Cirque Du Soleil, but they were sold out. I was supposed to see it with my dad, but I’d waited for him too long, and there weren’t any tickets left. I ordered a drink they must’ve used to pickle dead bodies and threw all caution to the wind. I was in Vegas, and my dad dumped me as soon as we got here, so I was tempting fate, and it seemed fate was standing before me with smoldering eyes that said, ‘fuck me hard.’

I really did wear Xavier Dean boxer shorts to bed. I absolutely loved them. He knew how to dress a man, but women also wore his clothes. He was once quoted as saying he loved the way powerful women looked in his jeans. I’d also read he was pretty notorious for having a string of gorgeous lovers; women of all shapes and sizes. From the smoldering blue eyes staring at me waiting for an answer, however, he seemed to have set his sights on me for the evening.

The problem with saying yes to the drink was, I really didn’t have the expertise to be as cool and perfect as I was supposed to be at that moment. I wanted to land this man so badly, and yet one-night stands weren’t something I thought I’d enjoy. I was twenty-nine and reluctant to grow up and own a woman’s liberated sexuality. I sort of wanted the sexual freedom and yet, I mostly wanted the prince on a white horse. Vegas was the kingdom of one-night stands, so I relegated myself to just enjoy the view.

“The bartender here makes a wicked ‘sideways spider.’ Creepy name, but it’s delicious, it’s the least I can do for losing.” He winked at me, then walked over to the bar, not even waiting for my answer.

I raced to catch up with him. “I think I’ve had enough to drink,” I finally found the nerve to say.

He spun around and looked at me as the bartender was pouring a purple beverage into a frosty shaker.

“Just one more won’t kill you,” his deep voice radiated as his hand grazed the side of my body, passing quickly over my breast as his hand found my hips.

The other hand also planted on my hips, and I felt a moment of panic as he lifted me gently onto a high bar stool. Damn if my legs didn’t just fall open at the shock of being hoisted. He took the opportunity to slide between them, and the fine wool of his trousers brushed across my bare thigh.

“It just might,” I countered letting my hand perch on his chest, softly warning him to stay put.

I was already feeling myself getting wet with him so close, and while I wasn’t one for staring, I had noticed a pretty steely erection had formed elegantly in his beautifully tailored pants. It was a bold move sliding in like he did, but in his defense, the bar was packed. He managed to snag me the only stool and was being butt-rammed from behind by a large and rather loud woman wearing a floral print dress. She was laughing and undulating with another girlfriend. On closer observation, I was pretty sure the accidental grazes of her ass against his were one hundred percent intentional. I almost let down my own hand barrier to give the poor man a reprieve from her onslaught, but I wasn’t really that generous; yet.

He patted the hand on his chest that kept him from sliding into home and offered a dark smirk.

“Here are your drinks, Mrs. Dean,” the bartender said leaning over the bar to hand him two large martini glasses and interrupting whatever Xavier was about to say or do.

As he turned to retrieve the drinks, his trousers brushed across my knee, giving me a feel of his cock beneath the fabric. It was huge and stony. The flower printed butt popped him on his hip while making a wild gesticulation which made our drinks splash. I was happy for the diversion as I was getting really hot and bothered with his cock pressing up on me the way it was. He turned to the woman with an angered glance.

“Excuse me,” he gritted out roughly.

I didn’t want to get on his bad side; he looked like he could be trouble if tempted. She caught on right away.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she gushed.

His face softened a little. “It’s alright.”

“Hey, are you … I mean, I know it’s weird, but you look just like Xavier Dean, that designer guy. There’s a big picture of you in the lobby at Cesar’s Palace in a really hot suit and all those women … must be nice.” She was blathering drunk, red-faced, and smitten.

“That isn’t me,” he said with a pained smile before he turned his attention back toward me.

My eyes were wide and playfully reprimanding as he handed me my drink. “You just lied to that poor woman,” I whispered, scolding.

“Sometimes I lie,” he confessed, looking sexy, but also sweet, he was an odd mix of contradictions.

His eyes glanced down at my bare legs as the butt bumper behind him had tamed some. She was talking in a low voice to her friend, but she sounded disgruntled. She must’ve known he was lying, and this made her mad. Regardless, she hadn’t given him much space, so I widened my legs, took the drink from his hand and gave him a consenting smile, which offered a chance for him to move in closer. He took one step in and then I was inches away from his raging cock. I did everything in my power to connect to his eyes and try to forget how much I wanted him inside of me. Lusty, crazy, drunk person that I was, I was ready to throw all my inhibitions to the wind for one night with Xavier Dean. Who cared if I’d be woman number one hundred and whatever, it was just too sexy, the whole thing.

“Taste it, and tell me what you think,” his voice was soft and seductive.

I was so happy he didn’t say, ‘Let’s get out of here and fuck.’ Of course, he wasn’t going to say that. In my fantasy, we were not going to be at this bar long. I was a mess. I took a sip of the drink.

“Mmm, salty …” What? What the hell did I just say? Oh, my God, Arcadia Jones. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Mister seducer caught my innuendo right away. I must’ve seemed like such a whore.

“I’ve heard it’s rather sweet actually.” His eyes blazed as he moved in closer, his raging hard-on making direct contact with my dripping wet center. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Great.” I flashed him a crazed, childish smile. “I’ll have seven.” I took a healthy swig of the potent liquor, guaranteeing inebriation and perhaps some sense of self-preservation.

“These are pretty loaded; I think seven might land you in the hospital.” He smiled, taking the glass from me as I’d already drained half of it. “You might want to slow down.”

“Right,” is all I could bark out.

“So, Arcadia Jones …” His hands came up to my spread legs and gently caressed them just above the knee. “Tell me about you.”

I took a deep sputtering breath. He immediately noticed my nerves and backed up just a bit. We had gone from “Hello” to grinding up on each other pretty fast, so he took a step away, giving my pussy some breathing room it wasn’t really sure it wanted. He kept his hands where they were, though, and his intense blue eyes stared into my soul. I laughed uncomfortably.

“Me?” Breathe Arcadia. “I’m a surfer chic working on a master’s degree in Marine biology. Ocean conservation is my main thing, but I’m a huge fan of cetaceans as well. Right now, I’m just tagging them. I hope to study their habits in the wild, so we can advance our conservation efforts,” I said in one blathering sentence.

I could see the shift in his expression from the moment I said I was a surfer to my spouting on about whales. I wouldn’t say it was admiration exactly; it looked more like overwhelmed confusion. Whatever his response, I was definitely not what he was expecting.

“Wow,” he breathed as he took a sip of his drink. “Suddenly, I feel like designing shirts and trousers, is slacking on my end.”

“Oh, my God, you’re Xavier Dean … hello?” Now I was sounding like a teenager.

“Hello,” was his breathy reply. “It’s nice to meet you, Arcadia Jones,” he added as he leaned into me again, that same hot, hard cock on my privates once more, reminding me of how much I wanted to abandon myself for him.

He planted a drunken kiss on my lips that tasted like licorice and strong alcohol. His lips were soft and moist, his stubble sharp and rough, the juxtaposition of textures making me even wetter. His tongue snaked into my mouth slowly, tortuously; he was good. He knew how to make a girl nuts. It’d been too long for me to go at this pace; however, I was smart. If he wasn’t gonna rush it, neither was I. I matched his delirious deliberateness with my own and felt him harden with each languid swirl of my tongue. My legs spread just a bit wider to accommodate him. It was a slut move for sure; I was being insane, but it felt so good.