Flowers

9

Michael

It was strange being here without the sole intention being dealing to these dimwits.

As soon as I stepped inside after getting a once-over from an asshole of a bouncer, I felt completely out of place.

I looked around for her.

I reminded myself that I could always just leave. Leave all these spoilt elite with their own kind, instead of feeling like I was some sort of intruder and each of them had their security informed of me.

There was a bubbling feeling in the pit of my stomach, just wanting to find Camille and feel comfortable for once. She was the only purely good thing in the world they lived in, in my eyes.

Ignoring curious glances from the disgusting teens at the way I was only dressed in black skinny jeans and a black shirt instead of an expensive suit, I made my way through the crowd to start searching for her.

The music was horrendous. Something pop with a disturbing rap verse mixed into it.

This house was too big. I was beginning to lose hope of ever finding her in the midst of these teens, and thought it might just be best to leave and text her I couldn't make it after all. 

Just as I turned around to return to where I had come from, not liking how everybody seemed so fake and prissy, I caught a glimpse of her. She was hugging that blond asshole at the side of whatever lounge we were all in right now. 

I stopped and observed the situation from the middle of the room for a moment.

Even from here, she radiated. The white dress she had on looked sinfully good, extenuating her body in a way that had me only focused on one thing, definitely not thinking with my rational mind. 

That blond asshole was getting on my nerves, even from here. It was obvious he had a hard-on for Camille. He could fuck off.

I began making my over to the two, growing more impatient when he seemed to inch closer and closer to her. It was even more frustrating to see her so naively oblivious to it. Or maybe she wasn't oblivious at all, maybe she wanted it?

"Micha—" the excitement in her tone after she'd noticed me was silenced the moment I cupped her jaw in the palms of my hands and kissed her.

A part of me really wanted to get the blond asshole to fuck off. Another part of me just wanted to kiss her.

Everything calmed down when she kissed back, her surprised smile fading away. The music didn't seem so bad anymore, and I didn't give two shits about anybody else here.

Camille didn't seem like someone to move fast when it came to this type of shit. I wanted to move way too fast, and it was risking a lot. Maybe if I had her once and she was bad, I'd realise she wasn't worth all this. I could just move on and not complicate things.

We had kissed on what we had agreed to call our first date. It gave me some sort of hope that maybe she wasn't one to wait until marriage to fuck, but who knew.

She gently placed her hands on my chest, and my cock twitched needily. Then, she carefully pulled back from the kiss, batting her lashes to register me.

"Hi," her voice came out almost breathless, her doe-eyes shining brighter than my future was in my wildest dreams.

"Happy birthday," I cleared my throat and brought my hands down from her face, deciding to stick them into the front pockets of my jeans, "you look hot."

Camille's smile widened, her attention completely on me until the asshole cleared his throat from beside us.

"Hot? What a way with words you have..." he muttered, loud enough for both of us to hear.

"What did you say?" I turned to him, keeping my tone calm but with an underlying threat threaded between each syllable.

He met my glare smugly, "it's not very polite to call a lady 'hot'..."

"Grow up," I rolled my eyes at him, before turning to a frowning Camille and leaning closer to her, "let's go somewhere private."

She seemed distracted and worried, but I would make that go away soon enough.

The asshole breathed out with defeat, before he decided what was best for himself and disappeared into the crowd.

"Camille," I repeated lowly, my hand sliding against her waist when she hadn't yet replied.

"Huh?" She shook her head and found my eyes with hers.

"Let's go somewhere private. Ten minutes, max," a grin was tugging at the sides of my lips, past the point of excitement of the things I craved to do to her sweet innocence.

"Oh, okay. I think my bedroom's the best place to get some privacy, right now," she suggested with a faint smile.

My brows raised at her smooth words, pleasantly surprised. Maybe she was on the same page.

"Yeah?" I inched closer, fingers curling at her waist to have her and that damn vanilla scent closer. Her smile widened, and she shrugged almost teasingly.

"Yes, unless you want to head over to the garage..."

I shook my head firmly, intent on getting her alone as soon as possible, "your bedroom's good. Let's go, sweetness."