Chapter Eight

"Fuck margaritas. You're looking delicious enough to make some cherries pop!" She said as she glared at him with enough power to rope him into two inches of her face.

"So, are we gonna be anonymous in each other's bodies, too? I am Bruce." Bruce said with an accent so deep, his throat reverberated confidence.

"Wait. You're not just super-hero level handsome, you also happen to have the name of one of my faves? Take me to Gotham, big Bruce." She spoke so fast, you could read how invested she was into getting herself laid. In this rush of dopamine taking over her body from her senses, her right hand, which was a little below the counter, hit the table in her fit of gesticulation and the margarita in front of her which was a little away from the edge of the table shook and a bit of it spilled on her dress.

Bruce paid more attention to it than she did, as she was still smitten by his Erotic aura.

"You are …wet" Bruce said as he stared into her eyes with enough passion to set a room ablaze.

"Good try, Bruce. But I am Ciara." She replied him as she chuckled lightly with her blush becoming evidently wider.

She didn't get what he was trying to say. She barely even noticed that she had accidentally spilled a bit of her margarita on herself, and even if she'd noticed, she had more concerns at the moment.

Bruce, who was seated about 11 inches away from her, got up from where he sat, removed his handkerchief from his back pocket and moved closer to her.

He neared her face so well that he could smell her lavender cologne and feel her summer breath. She was even prettier up close, with a chin so lovely carved, he'd be tempted enough to touch.

Ciara was confused, but in a good way as Bruce came closer to her and she was struck as though a god was right in front of her, except that she was so keen on making babies with this one. She awkwardly tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing her beautiful neck to Bruce's eyes that exuded colours of passion.

Bruce leaned towards her while he stood, with his head a little below her face, and he used his handkerchief to wipe off whatever remained of the margarita on her gown, over the top of her thighs.

He slowly and carefully wiped her gown and he could feel the warmth below the gown and within her thighs. He had mastered his art of seduction so well that he didn't need prophecy or a confession from anyone he was with before identifying how badly they wanted to have him over their naked, fluent bodies.

After half a dozen erotically patterned wipes over her gown, he looked her straight in the eye, and he saw her dilated pupils wondering so patiently where they were headed after this steamy and arousing moment. As he took his handkerchief off from her gown, she let out a very deep breath that one could easily mistake for an ecstatic moan.

She felt a little ashamed after letting out that sound under her buried breaths, so she intentionally shifted her eyes away from his gaze.

Bruce understood this attempt of hers, and he stood up fully, with his manly half-smile plastered on his face, and took her hair which had fallen towards her face again, slowly placing it behind her ear.

"Ciara, you're beautiful." With an enchanting accent and a rock-solid gaze on her face, he uttered these words as his tenderly-nurtured fingers with no trouble-causing fingernails hovering over it traced down the edges of her face down to her chin.

"What are these devils roaming for joy in my belly?" Ciara thought to herself as the butterflies in her stomach reproduced in astronomical numbers. She couldn't resist him, even if she tried, and she had no intentions of doing that.

"Thank you…" She said a little too low for Bruce to hear.

At this point, the bartender who'd been a little less-busy had been watching the chemistry and the thirsty banter between these two. He, however wondered how quickly the girl's "bad girl" confidence surrendered to the masculine charm of Bruce.

Bruce, lifting his fingers from her face, extended them towards the margarita which had spilled on Ciara earlier and shifted the glass away from the edge. This gesture was yet another hit move from the playbook of Bruce, and even this time, it didn't fail to ignite a freak show of muscle movements on her hot red cheeks.

"Wanna get out of here?" Bruce asked as he leaned back and took his lethal posture a few inches from her face.

How could she possibly say no to the charm of Prince Charles in Chris Hemsworth's body with an Ansel Eghort face?

"Yes, please." She replied him with every cell within her body doing one ecstatic and acrobatic stunt or the other.

Bruce, keeping up with his charm, extended his palm which she openly received and he helped her out of the sit she was in.

While she was up and still god-struck by whatever this was, and wherever this was headed, Bruce brought out his wallet, pulled out a 100 and put in on the table with the attention of the bartender who was dazed and impressed by his generosity.

No one around them needed some paranormal powers to read the room for some pheromonical connection between them both.

Ciara, with a smile on her face, headed towards the door with her hands in his warm and soft hands.

At the door, she needed to get her coat from the man at the door, so she slipped her hands out of Bruce's to reach on to her turquoise coloured silk coat that the man extended.

"Wait here. I'll be right back. Let me pull the car around." Bruce said as his hands confidently stood in his pockets and he brought out his car key from the left pocket while he trekked towards where he'd parked his car.