“Your usual?” He raised his eyebrow and that sexy smirk returned to his lips. “What does that mean?”

I tried to remember what Sean and his sister said about striking up conversations with sexy strangers. Something about not coming off shy, something else about seeming confident and experienced.

Think of something an experienced person would say...

“I’m saying that I do this often enough to know exactly what I like in a guy that I’d want to um...A guy I’d want to—”

“Fuck?”

“Yes...” I could already tell that this man was beyond cocky. That he knew just how damn attractive he was and he knew how to use his sexiness to get exactly what he wanted.

“I see.” He let out a low laugh and brought his glass to his lips. He took a sip and signaled for the waitress.

“How may I help you?” A woman in a black dress walked over immediately.

“Since my new friend here took over my usual, private VIP couch for longer than she was supposed to, can you bring over a bottle of whatever she’s having?”

I wasn’t supposed to sit here that long? My cheeks flushed pink.

“I can do that,” the waitress said, eyeing me with disdain. “What were you drinking, Miss?”

“It was just Moscato,” I said softly. “I’m a lightweight.” I heard the stranger letting out another low laugh as she walked away and I turned to face him. “I’m so glad I could be your entertainment tonight.”

“As am I,” he said, his eyes locking on mine. “I’m Ryan.”

“Rachel.” I quickly gave him my “one night” name per Sean’s instructions.

“Okay, Rachel,” he said my name as if he knew I was lying. “You never answered my question.”

“Which one?”

“The one about what type of guy you want.”

“You don’t need to know. I’ll know him when I see him.”

“Tell me.” He insisted, moving a bit closer to me as the waitress set down a fresh bottle.

I froze, completely unsure of what to say.

“Is your ideal type a guy who’ll take you home and fuck you until you can’t take every inch of his cock anymore?” he whispered into my ear. “The type who will devour your pussy until you come against his mouth?”

I felt my cheeks heating. “You did not just ask me that...”

“I did,” he said. “You started our meeting by skipping the ‘Hello’ so I think we can skip right past the bullshit question and answer phase.” His eyes were still on mine. “Tell me what you want.”

Everything you just said...

“A gentleman,” I said, lying to both him and myself. “Someone who will make love to me and slowly take off my usual lingerie while he kisses every inch of my skin. Someone who will say sweet things before and while he’s having sex with me.”

“If you were after that,” he said, trailing his fingers against my lips. “You would’ve actually worn lingerie—or something, under your dress.” He glanced down at the top of my dress, at my nipples as they hardened through the fabric. “So, clearly that’s not what you’re after tonight. And even if it was, you would’ve gotten up the second I started talking to you.”

“You’re saying you’re not a gentleman?”

“I’m saying I’m not going to bullshit you.” He poured me a glass of wine. “And I’d appreciate it if you did the same.”

I stared at him as he stared back at me, as everything in my body begged me to end my long drought of sexless nights and sleep with him.

He handed me the wine and he watched me as I took my time sipping it, as I let four songs play before I finally made up my mind.

“I have some conditions before I can ask you to leave with me,” I said.

“I’m listening.”

“One, you can’t stay the night.”

“I never do.”

“Two, you can’t have my phone number.”

“I don’t recall asking for it.”

“Three, you’ll have to let me lean against you when we leave.”

He looked confused and I picked up my shoes.

“I’m not going to be able to get all the way home in these heels without leaning against someone.”

“Understandable,” he said, smiling. “This is when you’re supposed to tell me that you want me to leave with you.”

“It was implied.” I blushed.

He smiled and pulled out his phone. “How close is your place?”

“Close enough for us to walk. It’s in SoHo.”

“I think you need to re-learn the definition of pretty close.” He looked at me like I was insane. “SoHo is a half-hour walk away, at best.”

“No, it’s only twenty minutes.” I wasn’t sure why his brand of arrogance was such a turn-on. “Are you saying you won’t walk home with me?”

“Absolutely.” He held his phone up to his ear. “Miller, would you come to Club H2O and pick up me and—” He paused, smiling. “my new friend, Rachel. I need you to take us to her place in SoHo.”

He spoke a few more words into his phone before ending the call and looking at me. “He’ll be here in two minutes.” He leaned over me and grabbed my heels.

I held out my hand so he could give them to me, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept them and slid his hands underneath my thighs and lifted me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I asked, beyond wet and turned on for some reason.

“Exactly what you asked.” He carried me out of the VIP section, past the dance floor, and out of the club.

Outside, he carried me to a waiting black town car and placed me onto the backseat. He sat next to me and shut the door behind him.

“What’s your exact address, Miss Rachel?” The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, and it took me a few seconds to realize that by saying “Rachel” he was referring to me.

“2000 Lafayette,” I said.

“Got it.” He rolled up the partition and pulled into the traffic.

I felt Ryan staring at me and looked over at him. “I take it that you do this type of thing often?”

“Not as often as you,” he said. “At least, not recently.”