Margot sizes me up, one corner of her mouth kicking up. She looks almost impish, sitting there so petite and so clearly amused.
“What?” I ask, sipping my beer.
She shrugs, smiling as she tastes her beer. “For an obscenely rich person, you’re pretty okay, I guess.”
I sputter, spitting some foam back inside my red solo cup. She grins at my reaction, wiggling her eyebrows.
“So you’re saying I’m not horrible?” I laugh, wiping foam from my nose.
“I’m saying that you have your moments,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You also have moments where you act like a rich spoiled brat.”
“What? No way, I’m a lot more grounded than you think. I mean, considering my unique set of circumstances, the fact that I can hang out here is like… amazing.”
She cocks a brow. “I admire you less for it because we’re talking about it. Like I just lost maybe… five percent of the esteem that you gained in my eyes.”
I chuckle. “That’s good to know.” I tilt my head to the side. “So not terrible and handsome. Is that all you think about me?”
She turns bright pink. “Who said I think you’re handsome?”
Squinting at her, I set my beer by my feet. “Unless you’ve changed drastically since New York City, I would say that you did. It was implied when we fucked.”
Margot shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “We didn’t fuck. We did… other stuff.”
I bite my lip, unprepared for the influx of mental images that spring to mind.
Margot giving me the naughtiest look as she drops to her knees. The way her hair felt against my fingers as she took me in her mouth. The way I spread her wide open and tongued her clit, over and over, soaking up every rich drop of pleasure that I could wring from her flesh.
I’m already hard for her. Leaning over, I brush her gossamer hair back. Then I lean in close so that my lips almost touch her ear.
“What, oral sex isn’t fucking now?” I grate out.
She sips her beer coolly and glances away, but I can see her blush. “I stand behind my statement.”
The second I lift up my hand to touch her, a static electricity starts to build in the air. Sliding my hand around to cup her jaw, I turn her to face me. I use my thumb to angle her head just so.
Margot looks back at me, her deep blue eyes pinning me in place. God, I could just look at her like this, in this moment, forever.
But her gaze slides down to my mouth. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, pink clashing with the white or her teeth. My ring finger slips over the pulse point in her neck.
Her heart races. I lean in, brushing my lips over hers. Her pulse jumps and she lifts her hand to my hoodie, fisting it tightly in her grip. I start to pull back, but she follows me, ghosting another kiss over my lips.
I growl into her mouth, my hands shifting Margot half out of her seat. She surges forward and I’m ready for her, kissing her. I slide my hand down between her legs, making her gasp. Then I fucking feast on her, dominating the exchange, groaning as I sweep the inside of her sweet fucking mouth with my tongue.
I groan. She tastes like stale beer laid over something indescribably delicate and sweet. Margot nips at my bottom lip when I give her the chance. I growl again, picturing exactly how she will look naked and writhing against my pillows.
God damn, she is so fucking hot.
But then she pulls back, breathing hard, her eyes darting back and forth across my face. “Stellan…” she whispers, biting her lip. “This? You and me? It’s not a good idea.”
I give my head a shake and try to kiss her again, but she shoves me off. “I said no. I know that’s not something you’re used to…”
“You want me,” I say, trying to keep the accusations from my voice. I splay one big hand across her heart and pin her with my gaze. “I know you do. I can feel your heart race every time I fucking touch you.”
Margot rises to her feet, surveying me as smoothly as any queen would look at a peasant groveling at her feet. “I think I’m going to go dance.”
She picks up her beer from the floor and then walks off without so much as another word. I’m left sitting in the uncomfortable bench and scowling to myself.
Margot is being a total dick about this. She’s probably right about it being a bad idea, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.
