The Boss's Son

11. I Need You

The club we entered was called Exclusive, Elio had described it as "very exclusive," and I could have figured that out just by the name alone, but the location made it even more evident. Nestled in the affluent part of town, it was surrounded by sleek high-rises and luxury boutiques, the kind of place where expensive cars lined the street. I couldn't help but feel slightly out of place, still clad in my TØP shirt and ripped skinny jeans, while Elio looked effortlessly stylish in his fitted jeans and a crisp blue short-sleeve dress shirt that perfectly accentuated his toned physique.

"You want a drink?" he shouted over the pulsating beat of the music, his voice barely cutting through the thumping bass that vibrated through the air.

I hesitated for a moment, weighing my options. "Sure," I replied, knowing I would only have one. I didn't want to regret it in the morning or end up losing control of the night.

What started as a single drink quickly escalated into four shots later, and before I knew it, I was dancing with Elio on the main dance floor. The atmosphere was electric, the crowd a sea of moving bodies, their silhouettes illuminated by flashing lights. Our bodies were pressed together, not just by choice, but by the sheer density of the crowd around us.

Being so close to Elio, I found myself captivated by him. His jawline looked so perfectly chiseled under the strobe lights, and an impulse surged through me—I wanted to run my tongue over it. Of course, I knew I couldn't do that in public, so I opted for the closest thing I could think of: I grabbed his head and pulled him down to me, slamming my lips against his. He seemed caught off guard for a moment, but quickly melted into the kiss, responding with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

The heat radiating between us was palpable; my body craved him, and I could sense that he was feeling the same way when his hands found their way to my ass, gripping me possessively. I started to question whether the shots were fueling my boldness, but then I remembered that Elio had only had two drinks—and he hadn't even finished the second one.

All I wanted was for him to touch me and to make me his once more.

As our lips separated, I leaned closer to his ear, my breath hitching slightly. "Please, Elio, I need you," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding music.

"Sorry, beautiful, you're drunk and I don't want to take advantage," he replied softly, his tone laced with concern.

I let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze. "Well, can we go? This music is really starting to give me a headache," I urged, my head spinning from both the shots and the thrumming bass.

Without another word, he took my hand in his, and we began to navigate our way through the throngs of people, the pulsating lights blurring around us as we made our escape from the club. The cool air hit my face as we stepped outside, and I took a deep breath, the intoxicating mixture of adrenaline and alcohol swirling within me, leaving me yearning for more of him, for more of this moment.