He says.
“Oh, okay. Well good.” I turn away from him and focus on my reflection as I put my earring in. He chuckles and slides up behind me, placing his hands on my bare hips and bringing his lips so close to my neck that I can feel his steady breath on my skin. “You’re cute.” He mumbles, the roughness of his voice making me shiver. “And just so you know, there’s no one worse for a reputation than me.”
Oh, god. Which makes him perfect. I take a deep breath and turn around, but he doesn’t move. I slowly lift my eyes to his and immediately feel weak, imprisoned under his gaze. His fingers flex, digging into my hips as he pulls me flush to his body. I can feel his hard dick pressing against my stomach, his breath on my face, the heat of his body through his shirt.
There’s this pull between us that seems to crackle to life, and then, my hand is on his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart under my palm. He doesn’t move, but the look in his eyes becomes so intense I feel like I can’t breathe. All I can hear is the hammering of my own heart beat in my ears and feel the steady thrum of his. I want him to kiss me and fuck me, dominate and own me. I fucking crave it.
I blink and try to focus on anything but him. “We…I need to get ready.”
He flashes me a small smile and steps away. I suck in a deep breath and it’s like I’ve been under water and just come up for air. What the fuck is that shit he does?
“Do you?”
Do I? I could just stay here and fuck him all night. That sounds much more appealing. Wait, what? I called him here for a reason and it wasn’t a booty call.
“Right, that’s it.” I scowl and slap him on the chest. “Out. You are not helpful to the getting dressed situation.”
He laughs, tracing a finger along the edge of my bra, just above my nipple. I feel like a fucking pendulum around him. I find some resolve, he touches me, and I’m drawn right back in. His finger hooks under my bra strap, slipping it off my shoulder.
“Agent Provocateur. Doesn’t get better dressed than that.” He smirks, his eyes daring me.
What kind of guy has an in depth knowledge of women’s underwear? Oh, wait, the one who looks like he was put on this earth for the single purpose of getting them out of said underwear. “Creeper.” I say. “I swear to god if my knickers start going missing, I’m coming for you.” He laughs again. “Out.”
He turns and slowly strolls out of the bathroom. “I’ll be in here, going through your knicker drawer, and Duchess…remember to wear floor length.” He winks. “Not that I don’t like to see your ass cheeks making an appearance every time you bend over.”
I roll my eyes and close the door so I can finish getting ready without the risk of slipping over in my own fucking juices. I’m going to use him to piss off my father, and if he uses me a little in the process, I can’t say I’ll be disappointed.
I look in the mirror at my finished product. The dress is perfect.
The floor length skirt is a dove-grey lace with a slit all the way up the thigh, stopping at the edge of the ‘other’ skirt which just covers mid-thigh. It also shows a lot of cleavage and my entire back, including the enormous phoenix tattooed across the width of my shoulder blades—all covered by lace, of course. Black tie is all about semantics.
Rhett will want to fuck me senseless and my father will shit himself. Winning.
I swipe some bright red lipstick across my lips and I’m done. It’s slut chic.
I step into the hotel and immediately want to turn around and walk back out. I can pretty much smell the pretentious bullshit before I’ve even spoken to anyone.
“I changed my mind.” I say. Rhett wraps his fingers around my arm, squeezing and forcing me to keep walking.
“It’s just a party, Blake. I know you love a party.”
“Correction. I like the kind of parties where hallucinations, stripping, and public sex are very real
“Oh, okay. Well good.” I turn away from him and focus on my reflection as I put my earring in. He chuckles and slides up behind me, placing his hands on my bare hips and bringing his lips so close to my neck that I can feel his steady breath on my skin. “You’re cute.” He mumbles, the roughness of his voice making me shiver. “And just so you know, there’s no one worse for a reputation than me.”
Oh, god. Which makes him perfect. I take a deep breath and turn around, but he doesn’t move. I slowly lift my eyes to his and immediately feel weak, imprisoned under his gaze. His fingers flex, digging into my hips as he pulls me flush to his body. I can feel his hard dick pressing against my stomach, his breath on my face, the heat of his body through his shirt.
There’s this pull between us that seems to crackle to life, and then, my hand is on his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart under my palm. He doesn’t move, but the look in his eyes becomes so intense I feel like I can’t breathe. All I can hear is the hammering of my own heart beat in my ears and feel the steady thrum of his. I want him to kiss me and fuck me, dominate and own me. I fucking crave it.
I blink and try to focus on anything but him. “We…I need to get ready.”
He flashes me a small smile and steps away. I suck in a deep breath and it’s like I’ve been under water and just come up for air. What the fuck is that shit he does?
“Do you?”
Do I? I could just stay here and fuck him all night. That sounds much more appealing. Wait, what? I called him here for a reason and it wasn’t a booty call.
“Right, that’s it.” I scowl and slap him on the chest. “Out. You are not helpful to the getting dressed situation.”
He laughs, tracing a finger along the edge of my bra, just above my nipple. I feel like a fucking pendulum around him. I find some resolve, he touches me, and I’m drawn right back in. His finger hooks under my bra strap, slipping it off my shoulder.
“Agent Provocateur. Doesn’t get better dressed than that.” He smirks, his eyes daring me.
What kind of guy has an in depth knowledge of women’s underwear? Oh, wait, the one who looks like he was put on this earth for the single purpose of getting them out of said underwear. “Creeper.” I say. “I swear to god if my knickers start going missing, I’m coming for you.” He laughs again. “Out.”
He turns and slowly strolls out of the bathroom. “I’ll be in here, going through your knicker drawer, and Duchess…remember to wear floor length.” He winks. “Not that I don’t like to see your ass cheeks making an appearance every time you bend over.”
I roll my eyes and close the door so I can finish getting ready without the risk of slipping over in my own fucking juices. I’m going to use him to piss off my father, and if he uses me a little in the process, I can’t say I’ll be disappointed.
I look in the mirror at my finished product. The dress is perfect.
The floor length skirt is a dove-grey lace with a slit all the way up the thigh, stopping at the edge of the ‘other’ skirt which just covers mid-thigh. It also shows a lot of cleavage and my entire back, including the enormous phoenix tattooed across the width of my shoulder blades—all covered by lace, of course. Black tie is all about semantics.
Rhett will want to fuck me senseless and my father will shit himself. Winning.
I swipe some bright red lipstick across my lips and I’m done. It’s slut chic.
I step into the hotel and immediately want to turn around and walk back out. I can pretty much smell the pretentious bullshit before I’ve even spoken to anyone.
“I changed my mind.” I say. Rhett wraps his fingers around my arm, squeezing and forcing me to keep walking.
“It’s just a party, Blake. I know you love a party.”
“Correction. I like the kind of parties where hallucinations, stripping, and public sex are very real
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