5. NOVA

NOVA

Chapter five

I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm here, begrudgingly standing in this stupid line at this stupid club waiting to get in, all because I'm stupid.

It's nearly ten at night now and I know there's a chance I've missed Hunter, but I decided that I wasn't coming for him. I decided to come and have a good time, maybe meet some new people and make some friends.

But now, I'm regretting it. Because even though I've changed my clothes from earlier–now sporting a tight leather skirt, an oversized Metallica tee tied at my belly button, and some white converse–my feet are still killing me. And standing in this line for about thirty minutes now hasn't helped.

The line moves up a little and a few more guys head in, flashing their ID's and handing over their cover to the bouncer. A few girls waltz up on the side of me and everyone else in line, wearing the flashiest dresses dripped in sequin and jewels with hair that blows mine out of the water might I add. They flash the bouncer their white smiles instead of their ID's, playing the flirty roles as they throw their hair behind their shoulders causing their chests to bounce a little and the bouncer lets them right in. I roll my eyes at the scene.

I hear my phone chime, just as I feel a couple of raindrops hit the top of my head. Great. Before reaching for my phone, I gather my hair and throw it into a high ponytail, not wanting the curls to ruin in the rain.

I look at my phone to see a text message from an unknown number that reads, text me when you're here, and I can only assume that it's Hunter. But how he got my number is beyond me.

I decide to chance it, and text back.

I've been here.

And within almost thirty seconds, I look up and see Hunter whispering in the bouncer's ear as he waves me over.

Everyone turns to glare at me, almost envious that I get to skip the line. And I hate the way that feels but also, I kind of enjoy it at the same time.

As I approach Hunter, I take in his outfit. God is he sexy as hell. He's wearing a pair of light wash jeans with destruction just above the knees and he's wearing a black barely-buttoned button up. His blonde hair is in a mess of wet looking waves that hang over his eyes. My mouth does this thing where it waters. Strangest thing.

Hunter leads me into the bustling club, palm on the small of the back and I duck my head to hide my smile because my body likes it too much when his hands are on me. I see purple and blue strobes bounce off the dark walls.

There are strippers in cages in every corner of the club and a DJ is upstairs blasting hip hop and techno beats as people dance too-closely to each other on the dance floor below. There's a bar placed in the back of the club that houses only the most expensive bottles of liquor and each wall surrounding it has a VIP room.

"Didn't think you were coming, little one." Hunter takes me to the VIP room to the left of us. It's all glass walls so you can still look out into the club itself and there's no door, just a rope that another bouncer is guarding.

Hunter gets us in and instantly I recognize a few of the occupants. I notice Krew, who seems to sense my presence as well because he eyes me down as a few handsy females sit around him. Or on him. He stares at me so intensely that it makes me feel self-conscious about what I'm wearing because I don't know if he's judging my curvy body in this tight leather skirt or if he likes what he sees.

His honey eyes give me a few up-and-downs before turning his attention back to a black-haired female who threads her fingers through his hair. Shivers invade my body as I take in the scene he's displaying for me. He's wearing a shirt almost identical to Hunter's, but it's completely unbuttoned. There's a girl running her hands up and down his chest while another is licking his earlobe. He's got his hands wrapped around the waist of both girls as he sits back and engages in conversation with another male wrestler next to him.

I feel an intense wave of heat violate my core, forcing myself to look away.

Taking another eager glance around the room, I notice the absence of Zayd. It strikes me that maybe he isn't into stuff like this, but then again, who wouldn't be? Hot chicks stroking your ego while you watch strippers dance in front of you. But I'll admit, I am kind of out of my comfort zone.

"Is it actually okay for me to be here?" I ask, looking up at Hunter who seems to have been staring at me the whole time.

Another wave of shivers threatens the surface of my skin as a blush clings to my cheeks.

"What do you mean?" He brushes his fingers–where his hand is still placed on my back–against the fabric of my shirt.

"Conflict of interest, no? I don't know the policy on this kind of thing." How silly of me to have not checked first. Then again, I didn't know I'd be so close to him when I came. I thought his invite was loose. Like ‘hey I'm going to be at this club, so I'll see you there if you go' kind of thing. Suddenly I feel extremely out of place and my gut is telling me it's time to go. Especially when I see a few of the tall, skinny, and underdressed female wrestlers in the room eyeballing me with what looks like disgust on their faces. Or is that jealousy?

"Don't overthink it, Nova. Come on, let's go dance."

Hunter weaves us through the crowd. I can feel the body heat of everyone we pass to the point where I feel sweat percolate at the top of my eyebrows.

"Can I get you something to drink first?" His question doesn't seem to resonate as being aimed toward me because again, I wasn't expecting to have a personal chauffeur. But the weight of his stare brings me back to attention.

"I'll take a tequila lime, please." I shout over the bass before he leaves me near the middle of the dance floor.

I'm used to sitting on my reading chair with a cup of earl gray tea reading thrillers or watching reruns of The Office. Or maybe the wrestling match that's on that week. I don't get out much. Though I will say, seeing everyone interacting here, engaged in playful conversations or grinding against strangers does give me an adrenaline rush of some sort.

As I scan the masses of club-goers, I recognize a few people from UWE. And then I catch some creep eyeballing me like he's on his deathbed and I'm his last chance at a decent meal. He's wearing a collared button up with very visible armpit stains and a smile that can be confused as pizza grease. His hair is slicked back with that same pizza grease, and I inwardly cringe at the way he licks his lips when he sees me analyzing him back. I turn my head so quickly I almost experience whiplash and my eyes double take on what I see ahead of me.

Dark.

Black.

Irises.

His eyes are searing into my soul as he holds a fragile redhead by the waist, pressed up so close to him that I fear she'll snap in half. He stands nearly a whole foot taller than her as they grind to the hypnotic bump-and-grind song that's taken over the speakers.

He seems to be enjoying himself, but then again, his eyes are eating me up. And I jump when he practically tosses the redhead aside and stalks my way. My breathing kicks up to a hundred miles per hour and my heart frantically tries to escape its cavity.

But within almost the same second I can feel him getting closer, Hunter steps into my view with our drinks and I must look like a frightened deer in headlights.

"You okay?" he asks, handing me the tequila lime. I take the glass and look past his shoulder, seeing no sign of Zayden.

He's gone.

Good. Because that man scares the living crap out of me.

But then why do I feel like my vagina is on fire but also, so fucking wet?

"Yeah," I reply before slamming my drink. Not even a wince falls on my face as I take a breath to follow the intake of the smooth liquor. "Let's dance."

***

Hunter and I are relentless with the way we grind on each other. It's only been about three songs in but I'm feeling the wave of my third tequila course through me. My fingers explore his torso while he grips my hips.

His hands slip lower as a techno-rendition of Lollipop echoes through the club, and I can feel his eyes burning into mine when his palms finally slide over the leather skirt on my ass.

Finally.

Despite the proximity and the heat between us, I've been dying for him to risk the adventure of his hands to my ass, needing to feel some kind of friction to accompany the need that is currently embedding itself between my thighs.

"You are so fucking sexy," Hunter whispers darkly in my ear. His soft but buttery rough timber sends ripples of pebbles layering my exposed skin.

"Still think you're annoying," I say back, which earns me a display of the boyish grin that he knows how to flaunt. Though I'm just continuing to give a hard time, because he really thought he was hot stuff earlier. Honestly, he was. I was so turned on when he semi-forced himself on me in the hallway. But I don't necessarily want him to know that. Because I should have kicked him in his balls. Does he pull that kind of shit often?

Suddenly, he flips me around and plants my ass right into his crotch. His hands are now pressed into the curves above my thighs, the leather tightens as he bends me slightly so as to fit us together better. I can feel his dick start to harden beneath his jeans and my eyes feel heavy at the gesture. I won't survive tonight. But who says I want to.

I'm a grown woman. I'm no stranger to one-night stands either. And despite my rocky start with Hunter, this man knows how to navigate a woman. Should that be a turn off? Some would consider him a player for it. And sure, there are rumors of such, but being the new girl, I can form my own opinion. And my opinion is that Hunter is hot, and I haven't gotten laid in so long. I'd rather it be to someone who might have more of an establishment in the sex department than not.

So…fuck it.

I grind my ass further into his dick, feeling him grip me harder as his heavy breathing falls into the curve of my neck. I reach a hand up and wrap it behind me to latch my fingers onto his neck. That opens up some room for him to roam one of his hands upward, keeping the other tight in place as we sway lustfully to the next song the DJ whips up.

His venturing hand slides up past the waistband of my skirt, skimming the small sliver of skin showing from my stomach and I swear I hear a growly sound come from his mouth and I clench my thighs together on instinct. He makes his way up a little higher, nearly grazing the side of my boob and a small sound escapes my mouth. With how loud it is in here, you'd think no one could hear it. But he did.

Feverishly, he spins me back around and tightens us together.

"I need to get you back to my place, Nova. I'm fucking starving for you." Fuck. I never expected those words to come out of his mouth. Or any man's mouth for that matter. But they graze my cheek in a whisper of need, and I would do anything he asked me to if he used that tone.

But before I open my mouth to answer, the song dying down for the next one to come on and people in the crowd leaving to go get their next drink, I see him again.

Watching.

Zayd stands in the corner leaning against a dark wall. This time, he's alone and his eyes are like daggers as he stares at me.

Why is he always fucking staring at me?

I decide I'm not going to let his mysterious demeanor get to me. Though the ache in my core tightens with so much want. I lean up on my toes, pulling Hunter closer so that my lips barely touch his ears and whisper, "Let's get out of here," while still keeping eye contact with Zayd.

Where this newfound confidence came from? I don't fucking know. I've never been a shy girl by any means but what I just did ranks as the top five boldest moves I've ever made.

And as I weave through the crowd with Hunter's hand in mine, I try to push down the small protest of regret that nags at me.

Regret of what? I'm not quite sure yet. But it isn't loud enough to stop me from enjoying the rest of this night.