All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.

Walt Disney

JENNIE

"If I step outside for a minute, can I come back in afterwards?" I ask the man guarding the door to what I think is a side exit. I've been dancing in the club for almost an hour straight without a break. My feet ache, and I'm in dire need of fresh air.

He glances at me, roaming his eyes up and down the length of my body in a violating scrutiny. It's the same look the bouncer gave Doyeon and me earlier, full of unrestrained judgment, contemplating whether or not we're good enough to be here.

To my relief, he nods. "Knock three times when you want to come back in."

As soon as I step outside, the cold New York air relieves the pain building in my temples. It's quieter out here, but I can still hear the music that's playing inside. What was initially hypnotic is now giving me a headache, making me desperate for the fresh air.

I press my back against the brick wall of the building, stopping to take in my surroundings. I'm in an alleyway, but the only entrance and exit is the door I just entered from—another security measure, no doubt. The narrow street has been blocked off on either side by mountainous brick walls. They're painted black, and Rogue's logo is stamped onto the center of each wall in white spray paint.

It's odd being in an alley that's not actually an alley—more like an outdoor room with asphalt for floors and the night sky as a ceiling. I'm grateful for the privacy the surrounding walls give, though, because a dark alley in New York City isn't exactly the safest place for a girl to be alone at night.

I jump in alarm when the doorway opens beside me. "Just another minute or so. I promise," I say, turning to face the bouncer.

Instead, I find the girl from earlier.

Brown Eyes.

She's staring at me with amusement in her face, so different from the coldness I witnessed earlier. "I think this will take longer than a minute."

My breath catches in my throat as I take in her words and the dark promises they hold. Her eyes are devouring me, skimming the length of my body and holding me captive. I scare myself when I take an unconscious step in her direction, wanting to be closer to her. To touch her face, her body, wherever she'll let me.

I clench my fists, forcing myself to stop that ridiculous line of thought.

Now I understand what heroines in romance novels are feeling when they meet someone. It's not insta-love. It's insta-lust, and it's so strong and overwhelming, it's easy to confuse the two. Lucky for me, I have my head screwed on tightly enough to realize that what I'm feeling is simply pure, unadulterated lust.

And it needs an outlet.

But this is a woman that followed me into an alleyway. A woman I neither know nor trust.

I level her with an accusatory glare. "Did you follow me out here?"

"Yes." There's no hesitation nor remorse in her voice, just a lingering truth that hangs boldly in the air. She eyes me warily as I take an instinctive step back, pressing myself against the wall again. "Tell me you don't want me here, and I'll leave. No questions asked."

I wonder if she's telling the truth. If she is, it would do wonders to ease my safety concerns. Because the truth is I do want her here. I want this. I want the promises of pleasure her eyes are giving me. I want to kiss those full lips. I want her hands to ravage me. I want everything.

So, I test her.

"I don't want you here," I lie, waiting to see if she'll leave.

She nods her head and turns around, rapping on the door three times—the signal to open up. I'm relieved to learn she was telling the truth. That I can have this night of pleasure without worrying for my safety.

When the door opens and the guard sticks her head out, I say, "Wait."

I mean it. I want this. I want her.

Call it instinct or insanity or probably a little bit of both, but I can already tell that, when she touches me, it'll be electrifying. Just from looking at her, I can see that this is a woman who takes what she wants. Right now? It's me. Tomorrow? Who cares? That's not what one night stands are for.

Brown Eyes nods to the security guard, who closes the door again. She turns my way, and the fascinated look of approval on her face sends a shiver of delight down my spine. "You were testing me."

I nod. "I was."

She takes a step closer to me. "And if I hadn't passed?"

I hook a finger into her belt loop and pull her nearer. "We'd probably be in the same position, only I'd be lying to us both when I tell you I don't want this."

She places her hands against the wall on both sides of my head, caging me in. "And now?"

My left toe brushes against her ankle, trailing its way slowly up the length of her leg until it's hooked around her waist. I use it to push her forward until we're pressed tightly against one another.

"I don't have to lie. I want this."

Her lips are on mine before I can blink, her tongue fucking my mouth the way I hope she'll do to my body. I respond eagerly, my tongue brushing against her and savoring the distinct taste of spearmint and amaretto. It's a filthy kiss, harsh and violent and messy, filled with the sinister promises I can't wait for her to unleash on my needy body. It's unfathomable how much I want this, how much I've thirsted for this since my eyes connected with her and saw the desire lurking within their depths.

Her lips move to the skin below my ear, sucking lightly before she bites down gently, sending a jolt of pain straight to the stiff peaks of my nipples. An animalistic groan escapes my mouth as her tongue flicks over the sensitive skin she bit, lapping away the delectable pain. Her lips trail down my throat, meeting her hands at my breasts.

She pinches a nipple with one hand, while her mouth sucks roughly on the other pebbled bud through the thin fabric of my dress. My hands tangle themselves into her hair, pushing her lower, wanting her there. She lets me, chuckling at my lack of patience, while purposely trailing her fingers slowly along the length of my inner thighs in a teasing touch.

I groan, taking the leg that was wrapped around her waist and hooking it over her shoulder. The movement lifts the skirt of my dress higher, exposing more of my skin to the crisp fall air. She leans forward and digs her nose into my sensitive flesh, dipping it into my slit through the cotton fabric of my underwear.

Hooking my fingers into the elastic band of my panties, I shove them downward, too eager for the skin to skin contact to wait. The vibrations of her responding growl send my hips thrusting forward, forcing our lips to clash.

I cry out at the feel of her tongue, tracing the length of my mound. She takes one of my lips fully into her mouth, sucking softly, before releasing it. The pad of her thumb brushes against my clit, spreading the wetness from my opening onto it and rubbing in slow circles.

When her lips take over her thumb's position on my clit, I nearly lose myself. She swirls her tongue around it, teasing me with the slow pace. I'm panting by the time one of her fingers enters me, pumping into my body with ease. A second finger joins the first one, and I ride them both, savoring the feel of her warm mouth on my clit and her long fingers in my body. With each thrust of her tongue, I can feel myself reaching the edge, coming closer and closer to the release I desperately need.

This is it. This is the moment I've waited for for years. The end of my dry spell. The beginning of ecstasy. I'm so close to coming. I can feel it in the quickening of my heartbeat; the phantom taste of her tongue in my mouth, her lips against mine; and the scrape of my nails against the nape of her neck.

I moan loudly, my voice thick from pleasure. "I'm close. I'm close. I'm so close," I say, gasping between each breath.

She pulls back suddenly, and the loss of her warmth is replaced by the still coolness of the air. "Can it wait?" she asks, her tone sharp and demanding.

"W-what?" I ask, struggling to settle myself through the dense haze of lust.

It's unnavigable.

Is she…?

I look down at her, following her line of sight. She's still staring at my exposed flesh down there.

My jaw drops.

Did she just ask my vagina if it can wait? To come?

Because the answer is a resounding no. It's waited, like, two years to come on someone's hand that's not my own.

I reach down and tug my underwear up from its position on my knees. When it's properly protecting me, I quickly cover it with my dress, realizing belatedly how ugly nude, cotton underwear is. I might as well be wearing granny panties.

There's a resounding silence as I wait for her to stop staring at my now covered crotch. When I chance a glance down at her beautiful face, I discover that she's not staring at me. She's staring into space—in the direction my ugly ass panties once were. I side step discretely, putting as much distance between us as possible.

She may be the hottest woman I've ever seen, but I don't hook up with Crazy. Even if she comes with a mouth capable of inconceivable pleasures. My eyes dart to the door, wondering if I can make a quick escape without her realizing I'm leaving.

"Fine," she says, and I gather that she isn't talking to my girly bits.

She's talking into an earpiece. It's smaller than the coiled ones the guards are wearing. Whereas theirs are larger and wired, her is wireless and tiny, fitting entirely into her ear and camouflaged by its flesh-like color.

She stands up, straightens her suit, and barks, "I'll be there in a minute."

With that, she raps on the door three times and enters the club as soon as it opens, leaving me to gawk by myself, my dry spell still intact.

No apologies.

No goodbyes.

The douchebag doesn't even give me the courtesy of looking at me.