Chapter 4. Bad Girls Do It Better (1)

2020, February 14th. Capital City, Warlanda

Aaron turned his back on Keira. She watched him as he dismissed the waiter who had been stationed at his table all night and discreetly brought the partition around, doing away with the crack she’d slipped through to get to him.

He took his jacket off, turned around, and laid it down neatly over his chair. Then he walked up to her, took his cufflinks off, and rolled up his sleeves. The sight of him coming towards her sent a thrill all the way from her head, down her spine, to her groin, straight to her toes. Keira didn’t believe in allowing men the power to make her toes curl. In her line of work that shit was too dangerous, but tonight she wasn’t a soldier or an assassin. Was anyone in his presence?

She’d heard the stories of Aaron’s risqué exploits and had been eagerly awaiting becoming one herself. Now that the time had come, however, Keira felt her inexperience with men knock her on her ass. The idea of him making her nervous was laughable. She dismissed it immediately.

He took small, deliberate steps towards her, taking his time getting closer, eyes darkening in ways she’d yet to see them do.

She was the kind of woman who had anything goes, oh but be careful what you wish for written all over her. Keira Dormer was an untamable predator. Playing with her was the kind of thing that would come back to bite you in the ass. She’d hurt so sweetly that you’d want her to do it again, knowing she never would. He knew because he’d seen too many women react to him the way he was reacting to her.

Voices around them fighting to be heard in the bustling restaurant. Somehow his belt buckle was still the loudest sound in the place.

As a rule for one-night stands and frankly in general, Aaron avoided the Keira Dormers of the world. Femme Fatale was like looking in a mirror on a particularly disastrous night, such as this one. Nothing but trouble. He was already that. The last thing he needed was to tempt fate by spending the night with her. There’d be no keeping her in check. Oh, the places they could end up. Who knew what this night would look like when they reached the end of it?

Finally, before her, he took the glass out of her hand and sat it down on the table.

“Whatever Lady Maine said to you must really have fucked with your head. This isn’t The Casanova of Caines’ MO,” Keira said playfully, slipping her fingers into the front of his pants. “If it were, I imagine I’d have caught a close-up of a lot more of you by now.”

“Is the heat level too high for you, Killshot? If you came here to talk about her, frankly to talk at all, then you’re wasting my time and this is over,” said Aaron, hiking her dress up her thighs ever so slightly.

She was right. Aaron was discreet. One might be inclined to disagree on account of all the scandals, but more times than not that was by design. Him making a nuisance of himself to get to his parents. Aaron took calculated risks. The public only saw what he was okay with them seeing.

Tonight’s Aaron gave even less of a damn than The Casanova of Caines ever had. The Casanova of Caines had rules. No smart women. There were exceptions of course, but back then he didn’t pick up women for long-term relationships. He and Emily’s messed up will they/won’t they situation was stressful enough.

Whomever the woman of the evening was, he spent a max of an hour getting her to a hotel. After that, it happened so fast that it often had their heads spinning. They hooked up and everything was over within half an hour. Then he was out the door, leaving her to spend the night at some other luxury hotel by herself.

No playbook for Keira. He’d spent his entire life playing by the rules. No attachments other than his family and Emily. He worked hard. Followed insane schedules. Where did it get him? His mind stopped him midbrooding because tonight his disaster of life had led him to her.

Casanova of Caines, my ass. How much of a player could he really have been if he spent his time avoiding chicks? Especially ones like her. Secretly he’d been craving the challenge for years. She’d be the ultimate conquest. An alpha female the likes of which he’s never bedded before.

His heated glare, her stone-cold eyes. The primal energy between them. They were both blowing smoke. Her to reassert confidence and him to shut her up.

What came next was therefore inevitable. She went first, ripping his shirt open, reaffirming her desire to play as she sent buttons flying to the floor. He pulled her out of her chair and spun her around. His hands went up her dress, expertly drawing her panties down her thighs.

He’d gotten them down to her knees when she turned around and threw him down into her chair. Lust mixed with the hate in his eyes as he watched the panties drop down to her ankles. She stepped out of them and kicked them over to his feet.

He brought his pants down to his ankles but stayed seated. His eyes met hers, inviting her back to him. A little flicker of hesitance twinkled in her too-dark eyes. Aaron smirked. That little spark was his favorite part. Unlike with most women he bedded, it was gone just as quickly as it came.

When next he knew it, she was on top of him, straddling him. It happened all at once then. She stuck her tongue in his mouth. While he was still processing this new development, he felt himself slip into her. Once, twice, so many times he felt the weight of her lift and drop right back into his lap. Steadying himself, reminding himself of where they were, he grabbed onto her ass. Clawed his way to wrapping his arms around her waist.

Her turn to be startled as he ripped through the V-neck of her dress and pulled it down to her waist. In the moment it took her to respond, he took hold of her. She recovered quickly, ice-cold eyes boring into his as he brought her body down onto his. Switched tactics. Raised his hips, making their bodies crash into each other’s midair.

He wanted so badly to see her flinch again, bring the spark back, see her eyes light up. So badly did he want to break this one, hear her screams, that he didn’t realize when he himself let out a moan. When she took over again. When her hands had started pulling at his hair. When he succumbed to her.

It didn’t last, of course. If there was one thing Aaron could always do, it was make them scream. Make their eyes light up. He picked her up and laid her out on the table before them, bumping the champagne bottle and the glasses off the table in the process.

“Pardon the intrusion, Your Highness,” the waiter said nervously from the other side of the partition, having returned at the sound of breaking glass.

“Fuck off!” Aaron cursed impatiently.

Keira laughed a little, a killer smile left behind when it died down. True to her noble upbringing, Keira didn’t do shit like this. As he stood towering over her spread legs, ready to keep pleasuring her despite the murmurs and whispers that came from the other side, she had no idea why that was.

Her eyes didn’t warm to his touch as he slammed back into her, holding her in place as he did. Light, almost inaudible breaths were all that came out of her. She didn’t moan his name or give him any of the usual gratifications women gave him for his efforts. Aaron couldn’t keep his eyes off her though, because she did give him one thing. It was evident from the delirious look of satisfaction on her face, from the way her body pushed back up against his, that she enjoyed every second of watching him try to get her to cave.

Sheer willpower pushed him to the extremes that he went through for the next hour. He wasn’t in love with her, didn’t even like her, but as expected he couldn’t get enough. The less her face gave away, the more he sought to change that.

“I’m not a complete asshole,” he said, pulling his jacket over her shoulders when it was over.

They both looked down at the tear he’d made in her dress.

She laughed. “It’s just a little tear, Ronnie. Barely even there,” she mused, moving to return his jacket.

Instead of accepting it, he took her arms and slipped them into the sleeves. If a different woman was wearing that dress, it might have been imperceptible. There was, however, nothing average about her.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just doing damage control. They can’t write about it if they can’t prove it,” he said, buttoning her up before fixing his hair and putting his cufflinks back on.