The man with the blue eyes

Avery

Two things are wrong with me: I am extremely beautiful and I am still a virgin. Oh yes! I do not fall into the category of girls who want to keep themselves for marriage. I want sex and I want it now. Only, I don't want it with any random guy. I have read too many romance books and erotica to settle for any less than the man of my dreams.

You should know this, my name is Avery Miller, I just turned eighteen and my best friend Leah, brought me to this club downtown to celebrate.

"Let's go celebrate girl!" Yeah, that's what she said, but she's in the corner right now being fingered by her boyfriend while I leaned against the wall and looked around the hall aimlessly. And horny.

Leah is a minor but she is no virgin. Me, on the other hand, I'm just a waste of beauty, glowing skin, full breasts and round hips. Height was my only flaw but I have always done my best to increase my height with heels. Yet, no guy has approached me for sex.

Tonight, I am wearing a transparent lace crop top that hugged my body tightly revealing my pointed nipples. A short flowy high waisted skirt and stylish ankle length boots completed my outfit. My short sexy legs are exposed to all eyes.

"Oh Josh!" Leah moans reminding me of her presence. "Fuck!"

I am wet. I excuse myself heading to the bar.

"One shot!" I raise my voice a little above the loud music so that the bartender can hear me.

I lean against the counter waiting for the drink. That's when I saw him.

He’s sitting on the other side of the bar, about seven feet away.

And he’s staring at me. I stare back. I can’t help it. He’s probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

His hair is dark and curls slightly. His face is hard and masculine, each feature perfectly symmetrical. Straight dark eyebrows over those strikingly piercing blue eyes. A mouth that could belong to a fallen angel. I suddenly feel warm as I imagine that mouth touching my skin, my lips. Don't mind me, I am as horny as hell and I was staring at the carbon copy of the men I have read about in books. I can't help dripping cunt juice.

I stand upright- forgetting about my drink- and walk toward him, still holding him with my gaze. I walk leisurely. Calmly. I'm completely sure of myself. And why not? I'm gorgeous, and I know it. But most of all, I had his attention, it only means he is attracted and interested.

As I approach, he gets up. I realize that he’s a large man. Tall and well built. I don’t know how old he is, but I’m guessing he’s

closer to thirty than twenty. A man, not a boy. I'm impressed. And ready.

I stand next to him, and I am glad that I can still remember to breathe.

We stare at each other. I have to tilt my head to get a proper look at him.

“What do you want?” he asks softly. His voice somehow carries above the music, its deeper notes audible even in this

noisy environment.

“You,” I say quietly, looking up at him. I am absolutely mesmerized, and I’m pretty sure he knows it. He's not surprised. Maybe he gets this a lot. He smiles. His sensuous lips part, revealing even white teeth.

“How old are you?” he asks next.

I blink. “Twenty.”

His expression darkens. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Eighteen,” I admit reluctantly. He nods, like I confirmed his suspicions.

I pull him closer by his pants. He smirks. And then he raises his hand and touches my face. Lightly, gently. His thumb rubs

against my lower lip, as though he’s curious about its texture. I’m so shocked. Yet, I just stand there and lean in.

Nobody has ever done that before, touched me so casually, so possessively. It felt like what a Mafia Lord would do to the lady of his dreams. Or how an Alpha would touch his Luna. I feel hot and cold at the same time, and a tendril of fear snakes down my spine.

There is no hesitation in his actions. I am thrilled. No asking for permission, no pausing to see if I would let him touch me. He just touches me. Like he has the right to do so. Like I belong to him. I like the way he does it, the way he makes me feel.

I almost closed my eyes when he looked away. A frown on his face. When he looks back at me, his face is serious.

“I have to go,” he whispers. He is watching me with an inscrutable expression on his beautiful face.

I know I have to let him go. But I don't want to.

Something deep inside me senses that he could’ve easily gone further, that he doesn’t play by the normal rules. That is what I want. I want to go home with the feeling that I had the best birthday ever. That I am no longer a virgin.

Instead I let go of his pants. He’s still staring at me. There is a dark promise in his gaze—something that makes me shiver.

He walks away swiftly. Strongly. I sank into the seat he had just vacated.

**

I walk into my room after leaving the club and close the door noiselessly behind. I dropped my purse at the door and took a step into the room. I flinched when I put on the lights. There he was on my bed. He beckoned to me to join him. As though hypnotized, I do.

I’m lying on my stomach and I press my cheek into my pillow. He’s braced over me, pressed against my back, warm as sunlight. His voice is a hot whisper, right in my ear as he twists his hips to grind himself against my butt.

"What. Do. You. Want?" He whispers.I get a full impression of his heaviness and size. I try to push back against him again to feel it again, but he mutters something I didn't care to know and crawls up higher, his knees straddling my hips. His fingertips smooth along the sides of my breasts. His exhale steams against my neck. I can’t get a decent lungful of air. He’s too heavy and I’m too turned on. I scratch my fingertips against the sheets until they burn with friction.

My eyes flew open. I am sweating profusely. Wet and horny.