Page 7 of Fame and Obsession
Tanna opens her mouth for rebuttal, but footsteps pull my attention to the top of the staircase. My eyes glue to the object of my fixation as she shifts a wide-eyed gaze around the perimeter of the VIP room. Her expression reminds me of a lost soul entering purgatory.
It amuses me, and normally, I’d laugh at her while throwing out my best line. But after the earlier scene with Vivian, I make sure to keep my dick in check.
I have enough problems without adding another one.
She glances back down the stairs, the look on her face seeming to weigh the risk of entering the lion’s den.
Welcome to the jungle, baby.
A smile ghosts her lips, and she braves a step.
Then another one…
Then another one…
Everything I told myself flies out of the window. For her, I’ll make an exception—boyfriend or no boyfriend. I know I just made a promise to stay away, but like Tanna said, sometimes we don’t drive destiny—it drives us.
And from where I sit, the road leads right between that girl’s legs.
Let the games begin.
Three
Phoebe
The calm atmosphere contrasts to the chaos downstairs.
Narnia’s bars are glass and chrome high roller versions of the wooden ones below, and half-naked bodies slither around in exhibition-style foreplay on the couches.
Shock has me mesmerized, but I move forward, my gaze landing on a crowded half-circle table littered with empty bottles. The inhabitants laugh, then stand with drinks in hand, high-fiving each other across the table.
I’ve made a huge mistake.
Just as I double my pace, a gruff voice calls out, “Where are you goin’, Legs?”
“Bathroom…” I whisper.
“Uh-uh, access to the lounge and Cristal doesn’t come free, sweetheart. We have a payment plan to discuss.”
The sooner I find the damn bathroom, the better. I keep walking, unable to stop myself from staring at the table. It’s like staring at a horrific highway accident. I don’t want to look, but I can’t stop myself.
And then a pair of piercing green eyes stops me dead.
“Holy shit,” I blurt out.
His hooded fuck-me eyes drill into me as I gawk at him. He’s sitting at the end of the table, providing me an unobstructed view as the reflection from the overhead lights randomly licks the crown of his wayward hair.
No, no, no... Not him.
Common sense tells me to keep moving, but my neglected vagina tells my inner frigid bitch to shut up, and I unashamedly gawk while my heart pounds in my chest.
Full lips curl into a cocky half smile, hitting me with the sexiest smirk I’ve ever seen. A five o’clock shadow dusts his face, emphasizing the ghost dimple embedded in one cheek.
The man is sex personified, and I very much want to get the hell out of Narnia.
The closer I walk, the harder he stares. By the time I remember to breathe, my brain has gone on hiatus and other parts have already mentally fucked him.
Twice.