This book has imagines about Norman Reedus and his characters.
I take requests. I will wright any kind of story you would like.
I also do smut. So be prepared there will be smut in this book.
I hope you enjoy!!
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The club is dark, noisy, hot and the bar is a heaving mass of people all vying for the bartender's attention. You lean further over, raising your hand for him to see but his eyes skim past you and he turns his look to a busty blond, practically falling out of her top. You roll your eyes and mutter something about the origins of his mother under your breath.
You feel a firm hand slide over your ass, gliding against the silk of your dress and you spin round, about to give the owner a piece of your mind, only to find Norman standing behind you, smirking. He raises his hands in mock surrender as you playfully slap his arm, then moves completely into your personal space. You can smell fresh cigarette smoke on him, mixing with the musky scent of his cologne.
"I've been outside for 20 minutes and you still haven't managed to get us a drink! What have you been doing?" he asks, laughing.
"Well, if the jackass bartender could get his face out of Miss November's cleavage for a minute, I might have a chance," you reply, indicating the preoccupied guy behind the bar.
"Don't worry, babe, I've got this."
Norman leans across the bar and puts two fingers to his lips, letting out an ear piercing whistle, loud enough to be heard above the thumping music coming from the hundreds of speakers in the place. A few heads turn his way but, in a room full of people that know him, nobody is bothered by his antics and all resume their own agendas. The bartender however, races over leaving the blond with a disgruntled pout on her perfect lips. Norman tells him what you want and then turns his attention back to you.
His body is pressed up tight against you and you can feel the heat radiating through his clothing. His tie is pulled aside and the top two buttons on his white shirt are undone. Somehow he's managed to half untuck his shirt from his pants and he just looks a hot mess. He reaches up to push your hair away from your ear, then leans in to whisper in it.
"Have I told you how fucking sexy you look in that dress tonight, my love? All night, I've had to stand here and make polite conversation and all I can see is you, in that hot dress and those fucking heels that you know turn me on. And all I can think about is how I want to run my hands all over your body, caressing every inch of you until you're squirming at my touch and then I want to bend you over and ram my cock into you until you scream my name. I'm so fucking hard right now and it's all your fault for being so goddamn beautiful."
His breath is like fire against your skin and his words start a delightful ache around your pussy. You let out a small gasp as he tugs on your hair slightly before running his hand down your back to cup your butt cheek. He pushes closer against you and you know he's not lying as you feel the hardness of his length press against your thigh.
At that moment, the bartender returns with your drinks and Norman pays him and makes some lame joke with him before handing you your glass and steering you away from the bar. He takes your hand and leads you around the edge of the dance floor, stopping occasionally as people greet him on the way past, until you are headed to the horseshoe shaped booths at the back. A few are occupied and he chooses one at the end, furthest away from the crowds and slightly hidden by shadows. He steps back and lets you slide in behind the table first, then follows you in, sliding around to the back of the booth.
