"I still think this is a fucking terrible idea," I mumble to myself, clutching the garment bag.
Seven years ago, Chad built a nightclub empire and Eliza began promoting it. She felt like she owed the guy. He was several grades ahead of her, but had her back in high school more times than she could count. His clubs now thrive—all thanks to her.
New Year's Eve is Chad's biggest event of the year. We go all out. Daring outfits and attractive people consuming copious amounts of alcohol to help forget the previous twelve months—along with any bad decisions we make that night.
Once a year I dress outside of my comfort zone and give Eliza complete creative freedom. Tonight is that night.
Tonight I choose confidence.
In most places, Halloween is the holiday people use as an excuse to dress sexy, but not in New York City. And not when it comes to my best friend. Not that she needs a reason.
Despite the fact that Chad is a grade-A douchebag, these parties have become a tradition for us. Even when the theme two years ago was personally offensive.
CEO's and office hoes wasn't just a coincidence.
The vinyl garment bag crinkles as I slide the zipper down, revealing a stunning crystal mini. I gasp and comb my fingers through the fringe, admiring the individually sewn jewels.
Why am I not surprised Eliza had custom outfits made for all of us before we even agreed to attend this party?
A rhinestone pearl headpiece hangs above a white floor length coat. The faux fur collar hugs the modern day flapper dress.
She would pick the 1920s for Axel and me.
I carefully guide the heavy dress over my thighs and move it up my body. The gaping V-neck and backless design makes me feel naked. Long beaded sleeves give the illusion I'm wearing more material, but the sheer fabric underneath the crystals shows literally everything. Boobs, ass cheeks, and all.
A box of adhesive pasties and a nude thong sits at the bottom of the bag.
She thinks of everything.
With a shake of my head, I slide on the panties. I turn the dress to the side and stick on each nipple cover. Placing the headpiece over my styled finger waves, I tie the champagne ribbon into a bow. I run mascara through my fake lashes and do a once-over in the mirror.
Throwing a red lipstick into my bag, I make my way to my best friend's room. Light floods the space as I flip the switch and spot my strappy silver heels in the corner next to her nightstand. I knew she stole them!
Bracing a hand against her headboard, I secure the buckles around my ankles. The heels echo off the walls as I hurry towards the kitchen to meet Axel.
Getting ready without Liza really isn't the same, but she and Mickey wanted their costumes for the decade party to be a surprise.
Knowing them, clothing will be optional.
Everything seems to be going perfectly to plan. Tony was nice enough to spare extra security guards and Axel hired a car service. Chad even texted, reassuring me Jack wouldn't be in attendance. And yet, that anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach screams something's going to go wrong.
Nothing tequila can't fix.
"Ready?" Axel asks. He lounges on a kitchen stool, bracing one leg along the foot bar.
While he stares at his phone, I check him out. An open black pea coat frames his toned physique, exposing a charcoal suit with a matching bow tie. A silver watch fob passes through the buttonhole of his vest. My gaze follows the chain to his pocket continuing all the way down to his—
"Goddamn, Olivia." His compliment jars me from my dirty thoughts.
I laugh and twirl, showing off the dress. He reaches for my arm and draws me close. Pressing my chest into his, he growls against my lips. "You're so fucking sexy."
"Oh, stop." I blush and pull away, dropping my house keys into a sequined clutch. "We need to leave. We're late."
"We can't yet."
"Why?"
"Because I'm hard as a fucking rock now." He huffs, reaching down to adjust his slacks.
"Really? That fast?" I place my hand over my mouth in an attempt to contain my amusement.
"This isn't funny. These pants are too fucking tight for me to have a hard-on."
"Poor thing." I stifle a laugh, pressing my body back into his and caress his bulge, teasing him. Fighting against the restrictive material, his excitement grows. I pause trailing my fingers and his breath hitches in his throat. "Should I stop?"
He responds by slamming his lips into mine, assertively shoving his tongue into my mouth. My body goes into autopilot as I desperately grasp for his pants and unbutton them.
His hands slip under my dress hem. Not wasting another second, he moves my panties to the side. He smirks while easing a finger into me, feeling my arousal coat it.
Fuck—we don't have time for this.
Lifting my dress up to my stomach, he gets on his knees. He yanks my thong down to my thighs and shoves his face into me. What's another fifteen minutes? My knees go weak and my pulse races as his tongue circles my clit. But before I can submit to this impulsive urge, a knock on the front door halts our movements.
"The cars are ready!" Bjorn bellows from the hall.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Axel looks up at me with a cheeky grin. "I'll be quick."
I push him away and back up. Pulling up my thong, I shake my head. "We can't. People are expecting us, it's rude to make them wait."
"But babe." He looks up at me with those puppy dog eyes, still kneeling.
"No. We have to go."
Sighing as he stands, he attempts to fasten his fitted dress pants. The fabric hugs his massive erection. He groans as he looks over at me with his bottom lip pushed out.
"You're seriously pouting?" I roll my eyes and respond to Bjorn's ceaseless knocks. "We're coming."
"If only that were true," Axel mumbles and kicks out his feet. He slaps his loafers onto the wooden floor as he walks, throwing a tantrum.
Fucking men.
I turn to face him before opening the door. "How can I make it up to you?"
His furrowed brows soften and his lips quirk upwards to form a devilish grin. "Car sex on the way?"
"Not happening."
"Why not? There's a divider in the SUV and the windows are tinted. It's sound-proof. There's plenty of room—"
"Fine." I cut off his winded attempt to convince me as I open the front door. He raises his brows, shocked by how quickly I caved.
It could be fun.
"Wait. Really?"
"Yes."
His eyes sparkle with delight. Without hesitation, he grabs my waist and throws me over his shoulder. He races out the door, tossing Bjorn his key to lock up.
"Put me down!" I wiggle in his arms, kicking and laughing. He tickles my hips with his tight grip. Holding my ass in the air, he eagerly makes his way to the elevators.
Thank fuck my jacket covers everything. The neighbors do not need another show.
He sets me down once inside and I shoot him an irritated glare. Scowling at the mirrored wall, I adjust my hair and dress. "Was that really necessary?"
"Sorry, babe. I'm just excited." He interlocks our fingers, swinging my arm back and forth as he smiles mischievously.
I want to be mad, but I can't. His boyish charm and adorable dimples resurface and break through that tough exterior. I love this side of him.
I'm putty in his hands.
"You know, you look really fucking good, too." My fingers trace the buttons on his vest. "The twenties suit you."
"Eliza said the same thing when she brought this outfit over. Said I was 'Gatsby-like' or some shit."
"Yeah." I giggle thinking back to our first encounter. "She told me that the night you and I met. Apparently you give off a Gatsby-esque vibe."
"Oh, really? What else did you ladies say about me?"
I shrug and curl my lips in, refusing to divulge any details. He laughs and nudges my shoulder as the elevator doors glide open.
Before we exit, I rise on my tiptoes, reaching for his hair to smooth a few flyaways. "The real question is how do you plan on concealing your identity without your Yankees hat?"
"Well, our conspiring friends thought of that, too." He whips out a pair of vintage-inspired sunglasses. Looking over his shoulder at me, he tilts the round frames downward, giving a glimpse of his golden hues. "What do you think, old sport? Do I fit the part?"
I chuckle, impressed with his use of the coined Gatsby phrase and his commitment to the character. "Even better than Leo."
———
A large black SUV with illegally tinted windows sits behind a neon green foreign car. Two men in suits stand in front of the vehicles, yelling across the private lot at Bjorn. As we get closer, I hear bits of their conversation, but can't understand any of it.
"Wait here." Axel approaches the security team. "I'll make sure we have some privacy." He walks up to the men, saying something in Italian that makes them laugh.
Please tell me that he didn't just share his plan to dick me in the backseat.
Note to self: get Rosetta Stone.
After several minutes, they break off towards their respective vehicles. A shorter man walks with Bjorn to the SUV and the other guy heads to the sports car.
"Why the Porsche?"
"It's a decoy car." Axel smiles like he's proud of himself for thinking of everything, and his confidence eases my anxiety. "No one will care about the security team in the Escalade. They'll be too focused on the celebrity in the foreign car."
Smart.
Ushering me into the luxury SUV, he closes the door behind us. A rich earthy aroma mixed with the classic new car smell fills the space. The cold leather bores through the thick fabric of my coat, sending a chill down my spine. An opaque divider glass does, indeed, separate us from the men in the front. The back of the car is surprisingly spacious too with plenty of room for activities.
Axel turns the seat warmers on and my frozen ass welcomes the comfortable heat. As the cars begin to move, he immediately reaches under my dress for my thong. I seize his wrists and he pouts again, meeting my gaze, looking adorably confused. "But...y-you said yes."
He's so fucking cute.
"I have one condition."
"Anything! I'll do anything."
I can't help but laugh at the enthusiasm behind his words. His eyes are full of sincerity. He really would do anything to have me right now.
"You can't ruin my outfit or my hair and make up."
"Deal." He playfully grins as he slides my panties down my legs. Folding my thong, he neatly places it on the seat facing us. He then unbuttons his slacks and lets them fall to his knees, taking his briefs with them. Grabbing for my waist, he commands, "Hop on."