see you later // Pablo Gavi

Chapter 96

~ Author's Note ~

Warnings: Sexual actions ( again, though, no actual sex taking place ) and censored swearing.

𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈.

𝐈 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐎 𝐆𝐀𝐕𝐈, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐓. I of course dance sexy, because that is all that matters- emphasizing the parts of my body I want him to see. I want him to notice. 

I dance in the middle of the floor, and drunk insane people cheer and laugh with me, and I can feel all the impressed eyes on me from all around the room, but there's only one pair of eyes that matters, and I hope he's watching.

I dance and I look right into him, seeing the look on his face, and I know I'm doing my job. And then I dance right into him, grabbing his shoulders, bumping into him with my hips and pushing my body against his as I dance.

It is clear to everyone watching who my man is, and I don't even care in the moment.

He's bright red, and he tells me that he wants me to never stop. That he could watch me all night and for forever.

I tell him with a smirk, "I make the moves up as I go, love."

"That makes you all the more impressive," he says, taking my lower waist with his hand, pulling me into him. I push back into him, and blush when I feel up against his body that he is hard.

So I rub myself into him all the more, saying with a quite idiotic stupid teasing grin, "You got a friend down there?"

He responds, obviously playing dumb, "What do you mean, a friend?"

"You know exactly what I mean!"

"Huh?" he asks, keeping up his stupid act. "I actually have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, right," I grin. "I guess if you're going to be playing dumb, then I need to just tell you straight-up, right?" I suddenly reach down, without any warning, and use our body's to cover my hand as I touch his crotch.

He goes brighter red than a fire hydrant, stuttering out, "Ember-"

I grab him through his pants for just a second, before taking my hand back, putting them both on his neck, saying, in a soft, low, gentle tone, "Well, there's proof that you want me. Why don't you come on in me?"

He's bright red, and nearly panting by how hard he's breathing, and I love how insane I'm driving him. I love the look on his face.

"What, surprised that I can do it, too?"

"Do what?" he asks, shifting.

"Turn you on."

"Not surprised at all. You do it all the time," he smiles all crooked.

I roll my eyes at this comment. He gently brings his hands up to remove mine from the sides of his neck, and I let him remove one of them, but with the other, I gently take his hand back, bringing it to my mouth, before gently sucking upon his middle finger.

His whole body flinches, and he breathes, "Ember, we're in the middle of the f***ing dance floor."

"So what?" I grin, giving his hand back to him.

"And I'm f***ing Pablo Gavi," he reminds me, and it's like I really did have to be reminded. "And you're driving me f***ing insane. And I want some more alcohol."

I sigh, not even letting the worry of just doing all that in front of so many people get to me right now, and take his hand again, leading him off the dance floor.

I don't know when throughout all this this happened, but a few more buttons on his shirt are undone. Who knows, I might have done that without even realising. Seems like something I would do, no doubt.

We sit back down with our drinks, and he has his hand very awkwardly sitting in his lap, likely to cover up in embarrassment what I felt pressed up against him earlier.

How is he so f***ing sexy yet really cute at the same time? It is annoying. And confusing.

It's because he's everything to me. Duh.

He finishes his glass, downing it, and I finish mine too just as quickly, not wanting to look like I have a low tolerance or anything. "Want me to go up and get us eat another drink?" he asks, gently resting his hand on my thigh.

"Of course, thanks," I smile, handing him my glass. It's so sweaty and loud in here, but I can't say I don't like it.

He gives my thigh a squeeze before standing up to go get us some more.

Right before he walks away, I give his ass a hard slap, which makes him tense up, all his muscles tight, which makes me giggle as he glances back to roll his eyes at me and then walks away from me to get the drinks.

Then some random guy really decides not to wait at all. He leans on the counter next to me, swearing a smirk all over his face. He's some random white boy with brown hair dyed blond, thick waxed dark eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. He looks like the definition of a f***boy, basically. Not really something I want to engage with, but obviously he feels differently about me. "So, you're the woman of that footballer?"

"Yes," I say, not meeting his eyes. "And only 'that footballer', mind you."

"Hmm, alright. I saw you out there dancing."

"Did you?" I ask in annoyance, hoping Pablo comes back soon. "That's nice. Too bad I don't really care if you liked it or not."

"I know you don't care, but it was sexy."

"That was the point, but not for your pleasure."

"You're feisty. Most girls can resist me."

"That's pure arrogance, buddy."

"M-hm. And I'm sure your footballer has a lot of it."

"You're some British boy, aren't you?" I ask, rolling my eyes. Things never go good with British boys, but his thick accent gives him away.

"Yeah, I am, but why should you care?"

"British boys are annoying. So it makes sense you're British."

"That makes no sense at all."

"So why are you here in Spain trying to pick up girls that're obviously taken by guys much better than you?"

"Dunno," he grins. "You just kind of caught my eye."