You were on holiday in Monaco when you met Charles. You had never been in love before, and you weren't expecting that you'd find your love there. You came there to enjoy the french riviera, get yourself some tan and laugh at rich people's outfits. You wondered what it felt like to love someone and to be loved. You'd lie in bed at night sometimes and wonder: Who would he be? What would he look like? Will he be all that I imagined? Later, I learned the answers to those questions. He was nothing like I pictured. he was nothing I imagined.
I was wandering the streets of Monte Carlo when I met Mathis. A tall, blond Monegasque with an adorable French accent who ticked all the boxes except one on my "perfect boyfriend" list. He was gay.
He was holding a glass with a mojito when you first saw him. He was adorably tipsy. Thanks to the alcohol, he also lost his scruples and started to talk to you immediately, and before you knew it, he was holding your hand, dragging you to one of the best parties in Monaco, in his opinion.
"Oh, and that's Charles Leclerc," Mathis pointed to the newly coming guy. He was tall, brunet and fit. The minute he walked into the room, you couldn't help but smile at him.
"Who is he?" You asked him because you noticed that all eyes were turned at him. He certainly needed to be someone famous or somehow important.
"You don't know the golden boy of Monaco? He's an F1 driver. People here love him," Mathis explained to you enthusiastic. "Just look at him, girl. He is boyfriend material. I'm totally crushing on him," he was so excited about him you even started to be a little worried.
"Well, now I know him. I understand why, Mat. He is fit," you acknowledged when you turned back at him.
"Girl, I don't want you to panic, but he's coming our way," Mathis said in a high voice since he was overreacting himself.
"Sorry, but I don't speak French. You lost me at 'salut'," you giggled. A smile stayed on your lips.
"My apologies. I have mistaken you for my Parisian friend," he apologised politely. His mouth may be polite, but his eyes were sinful. They were scanning every inch of your body in a tight black dress.
"An invitation for a drink could fix this," you said calmly. You were so good with courtship. Mat next to you gasped when he heard you, but Charles didn't seem to mind it in the slightest. He liked girls like this. You usually weren't like this. Actually, you could barely recognise yourself. Being close to Charles turned you upside down.
"Okay, then let's go fix my reputation." You were hypnotised by his perfume. You never thought you'd be touching him when you saw him walking into the room. You were holding your breath because you were new to this, and you tried desperately to hide it.
"So, now, would you tell me your name?" he asked you when you held a glass of caipirinha.
"Oh, yeah, sure. I'm sorry. I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you," you introduced yourself.
"Nice to meet you too. I guess from your accent that you're not from here." Oh, you fell for that accent. It was so sexy. He was smoking hot in a plain white T-shirt and black jeans, making him look like every hot guy from posters.
"You're guessing correctly. I'm here on holiday." He didn't say much afterwards. You were dancing, drinking, laughing. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, whispering: let me get you drunk and steal your secrets. So, you started to drink more and talk about meaningless stuff.
The party was almost over, and you hoped that you're leaving with him, and you actually did. It was something around two in the morning when he offered to call you a cab. You were halfway to his apartment when you began to make out. You felt like the way to his apartment took almost two hours, but he was definitely trying to make it more enjoyable. At one point, you were biting your lip, and at another, he was pressing his lips firmly to yours.
You couldn't make it to the bedroom, so he pushed you to the ground. His every touch was literally scorching. You could feel his hands all over your body. The pleasure he was causing you with his fingers was breathtaking. Everything was so intense, and your moans were filling the room. You were both pretty loud, so you got worried about his neighbours. His lips pressed against your neck made you quite quickly forget about them again. Everything seemed so right at that moment.
The next day you woke up, and your eyes wander around the room. Actually, you examine the floor. Your black dress was thrown by the door, and his white T-shirt was a few steps away. Down by the chest of drawers were black jeans, and a black bra from Victoria's secret was lying next to them. Your eyes wander closer to the bed, and you found the lower part of this black set. The black boxers Calvin Klein also settled next to it. All you had after yesterday night was a headache and blurry memory. All you could remember from last night was the pleasure Charles was causing you. His name stuck in your head, no wonder since you were screaming it last night over and over again. You turned around in bed to look at him again. You were in shock when your eyes laid on his face. How could you not recognise him yesterday? That's why he seemed so familiar. He was a guy from posters, after all.
"Hope you weren't thinking about sneaking out without giving me your number." A husky voice interrupted you from getting out of bed.
"No, I left a note on a nightstand." You explained and pointed at a small table next to the bed while getting into his skinny jeans. When he turned around to see if you weren't lying, you opened his wardrobe and stole one of his hoodies. "By the way, I'm stealing your clothes, so you will need to call me if you want it back," you winked at him before leaving his bedroom in a rush.
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