This is Leo's version of his first encounter with Zemira.

Also, it is extremely smutty.

So grab your holy water, chug it, and then proceed ;)

~

When I saw her drinking by herself at the bar, I couldn't resist talking to her. People say there was something mysterious in seeing a person eating or drinking by themselves. One always feels pity for them but would also admire them for their courage.

The girl in the lavender gown caught my attention, nursing her drink and talking to the bartender. Her smile wavered and unknown to her, the mask of pretense she wore slid off. She gulped down the amber-colored liquid from her glass, cringing her face. Her throat bobbed twice and hissing air between clenched teeth, she looked around.

"How bad were the drinks at the reception if the bridesmaid feels the need to hit another bar?" I blurted, unaware of how I decided to talk to someone whose sole intention seemed to be avoiding everyone she knew.

"Sorry. Did I inconvenience you in some way?" She didn't hesitate for a moment, riled up by my intrusion.

Something in her eyes, mirth and anger scared me. Women usually found my interruption charming. She found it challenging.

While I gestured for her to return to her drink, apologizing for the intrusion, she decided it was time to declare war on me.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I don't believe in disturbing someone who's drinking by themselves."

"Great! A man o' principles. So whzzdoyou bel...believe in?"

I tried my best to refrain from talking further. The fire in her eyes sizzled with every breath I took. If I spoke further, she would surely slit my throat with words, if not deeds.

"I'd tell you but..." I turned, watching her narrow our distance, towering over my seated self. "Your state indicates you need water, not words."

"So sober I am."

"Walk then, Yoda. In a straight line."

I knew that would do the trick. She was sloshed to know any kind of walking attempt would only result in her falling and breaking a few bones. Resting my back on the barstool, I waited for her surrender.

The next thing I saw was sparkling shoes handed over to me. She slid off her heels, the stem of which was sure to give anyone a hip displacement if worn for long. I didn't even know her name yet, there I was, helping her to walk and finish her challenge.

Hovering behind her as if I was prepared to break her fall, I became her shadow. Gabe, the bartender, snapped his fingers and directed me to take care of her while he served drinks to a new group of people.

Unsure of Gabe's relationship with her, I decided to help. After all, my first day back from the mission shouldn't be the day I'd make the news of breaking a girl's bones in a bar after having challenged her.

Empty beer glasses kept on the table toppled and fell as she bumped into them. She was high as a kite yet, decided to act sober. Something about her, about the way she wasn't ready to play the damsel even while drunk off her senses made me smile. I adored the way she tried walking back, stumbling over me and filling my senses with her lavender scent infused with alcohol.

Something innate and protective rose from the depths of my gut. Leaving her stranded at the bar with the night drawing weird men into the bar wasn't comforting my conscious.

I tried rationalizing with her, letting her know the present state would only invite more trouble. She didn't listen to me, about my idea of getting her to become sober.

Fishing out my license for her satisfaction, I prayed for her to not be aware of my last name. She did and I decided to lie about the Brenton name and its role in my life.

The why of the lie – perhaps to not be recognized as a greedy business family – may have driven me to convince her that I wasn't the Brenton she knew of.

We moved to the rooftop, per my plan. I convinced her to jump in the water, per my plan. After a little bit of apprehension, she did.

Maybe it was the night sky or the distance sounds or perhaps, the dim lights of the rooftop pool but the girl, in her hideous lavender gown, mopping up the pool water looked ethereal.

My attempt to help her was useless. Whatever her gown was made of – good to retain water but useless to drain it off – make her a walking water balloon, leaking, leaving a water trail into the elevator and my room.

I tried helping her but faced with the reality of having a girl in my room, bunching her gown to her knees and shivering under the cold of the air-conditioning, made me move into the balcony to give her privacy.

She walked into the washroom, cribbing and cussing at herself while peeling off her wet gown. I too removed my shirt, tossing it on the chair near the balcony and watching the night sky marry the shimmering Miami skyline at the horizon.

"Leo." Her voice, partly low and stuttering and partly intonated with confidence made me turn.

Clutching her robe over her chest, rubbing off slick strands of hair from her face, she stood at the entrance of the balcony. Blinking more than usual, she seemed to imprint the image of my shirtless body in her mind before turning away.

I walked inside, racking my brain for something to say. Something to avoid looking at her doe eyes and sinking into the realization that I wanted to touch her soft skin, warm her shivering body.

"I think I should leave. I was being..." She began, glancing at my feet. I didn't want her to.

"Stupid! Yes, you were." I nodded. "But now that you're back to your senses, you can wait for that horrendous dress to return."

"Hey, do they pay you to be mean?"

There, in the middle of my suit, we began where we left. From the moment I met her, challenging her seemed to be what I did. And being riled up by me was what she did.

She began defending her hideous gown, her bridesmaid role and even the bride. Waving her arms in the air and pursing her lips, she went on to ramble about the cloth material – that I had no idea about – and the color – also something I never realized till today was called lilac.

"You know, it's quite difficult to make a pretty girl look bad," I moved closer to her, feeling heat swept off her body. She was fuming. "But your friend accomplished the task. She-"

Then it happened.

Crashing her lips over mine, she ran her hand over my naked back, her fingers trailing over my shoulders and into my hair. She tasted strong like the whiskey she drank and sweet like a dozen macaroons she must have devoured. Mostly, she tasted like her – sweet, silky, challenging and at that moment, breathtaking.

I slid her robe off, nestling my lips into the nape of her and running it along. Soft moans from the back of her throat tempted me to do more but I refrained. She was still drunk, I was still a gentleman.

"You want this?" I asked, closing my eyes to her reply. I wanted her – to feel her over and under me. But I also knew what she might say. "I don't want you to carry any regret."

"I won't regret it."

That was all I needed. Those words weren't just powerful, they opened a portal of want and need, spilling it over me. I tore her off my body, placing her on the table. Her robe followed the trajectory of my pant, her hands working in tandem to peel off my wet boxer.

"Wait," I whispered over her lips, running my tongue over her jaw and setting her naked self to feel everything I did.

Glorious – even that word fell short to describe her sun-kissed body, her supple skin and her ample bosoms. Sliding her legs to part, I dipped on my knees and blew air over her wet folds.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers dove into my hair while her toes dug into my shoulders. She was pulling me closer yet, shoving me off.

I slid a finger into her tight canal, ensuring she felt every moment.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, biting the back of her wrist. "Leo..."

"Tell me what you feel." I wasn't seducing a woman, I was taming her. I was tempting her.

The rules of seduction had long gone. The rules of desire, need and heated passion, ruled me.

My tongue slid over her folds. Her toes dug deeper into my shoulders. She moaned and shoved my head closer to her wetness while widening her legs.

"Talk to me..." she whispered, prayed and cooed. "Talk dirty to me."

"I want to fuck you." I licked her, deepening my tongue and sliding it into her core. "I want to fill you up. I want you to cum in my mouth."

Her body vibrated and her legs trembled over my shoulders. She slid her finger over her clit but I nibbled it.

"You'd only touch yourself when I ask you to." My instructions were adhered to immediately. She slid her hand off and shoved me deeper into her core.

"Suck me harder, Leo."

"Tell me your dirtiest thoughts."

"I want to sit on your face."

I deepened the assault of my tongue over her folds, sliding it in and out. My finger and tongue played the dual role of making her feel weak. "More. Tell me more."

"I want to taste you. I want you to unload in my mouth."

"I can't do that to you."

I wanted to, though.

"Treat me like a whore." She pulled my head up, kissing me, drawing blood off my lower lip. "I want you to get your imaginary money's worth today. Ram the fuck out of me."

I knew one thing – she was desperate for a man's touch. For long, she must have. She wanted to feel good and dirty at the same time.

And I obliged. Picking her off the table, I shoved her onto the bed. The moment she sat up, I slid my erection into her mouth, stroking her head so deep, tears spilled from her eyes.

She choked and coughed. Strings of saliva spilled from her mouth. The moment I tried easing her off, she pulled me harder. The back of her throat welcomed me, my warm member, the sweet and salty juice I began spilling.

"Harder," she coughed but the instructions were for her.

Choking on my cock, she plunged it deeper in her mouth, gurgling, moaning. My legs began trembling. Warmth spread through my member, feathering my legs, my groin and leaking into her mouth.

Like a sex-hungry slave, she drank me up, wiping her lower lip and glancing at me, her eyes dancing over my naked body with a smirk – a sense of accomplishment.

I couldn't wait. I didn't want to.

Crushing my arm around her throat, I plunged my cock into her tight pussy. She growled, clutched my back and razored her nails over it.

"Fuck me, Leo. Fuck me sore."

Pushing in and out faster, I kneaded her boobs, pinched her nipples and drank her lips while she cussed and rolled her eyes inwards when I ran circles over her clit and pumped into her.

"Say more, what more do you want?" I asked. I needed to hear every dirty thought that passed through her mind, every random thing she wanted me to do to her body – pain or pleasure.

"Fuck me till you forget me. Like I'm the girl you'd never meet after today. Use me. My body."

There was something animalistic about that kind of permission, to treat a woman like a slave like she wasn't anything more than a sex object.

Something clicked inside me. Something so wild, I wasn't even aware it existed.

I turned her around, sliding into her anally. She growled, practically crying into the mattress while I bunched her hair, her arms behind her back and penetrated her deeper.

"Fuck Leo..."

"Say more..."

"I want you to fuck me so hard, nobody can match it."

Desperate to impress, I began harder. The bed rocked, mattress slid off its usual position. Her moans filled the room while she tried to maintain her position on all fours.

"Louder," I ordered. She plunged her finger into her canal, sliding it in and out. I pulled it out, slipping it into my mouth while pumping into her.

My legs began trembling again, harder, faster strokes rocked her body back and forth. During the last few strokes, I slid off her and inserted my erection inside her pussy.

"You want me?" I asked.

"Yes. Fill me up. I'm using protection."

Like a green signal that make me work faster, I began pumping faster. She held the wall beside the bed, scratching her nails into the drywall and pleading to whatever universal god she believed in. "Yes.Yes.Yes..."

"Not yet." I bunched her hair and arched her body, shoving my tongue into her open mouth and sucking her lower lip. "Now..."

Like a remote-controlled being, we leaked in and over each other, warmth spreading on my cock and me spilling inside her. Our moans and panted whispers of how good we felt, aligned.

At that moment, everything diffused around us. What remained was us. Only us.

I had sex with a stranger I met at the bar. A stranger whose identity was unknown to me and a stranger, whom I would never meet after this night.

Right?

~

Like it?

Let me know in the comments