187
I finally appraise myself in the mirror: smoky-eyed make-up, flawless full red lips, killer blush on my perfectly made-up face, and, of course, my see-through slip dress over the black lace lingerie, which has pushed and perked everything up. The high-cut lines and seductive contouring make my body look awesome. I’ve finished it all off with lace-edged black stockings, a garter belt, and a look on my face of pure unadulterated lust.
I slide my feet into the black stilettos I take everywhere like a security blanket and spritz perfume across my bulging cleavage. This bra does me wonders; my straining breasts spill seductively above the low-cut slip dress, and I bronze between them to enhance them even more.
Can always use a little extra help.
The thong panties show clearly under the shimmering dress; everything is made for seduction, and I’m mighty pleased with myself.
Look at you go, girl.
I pick up my phone with a smile. I’ve been up here for about an hour and a half now, and there isn’t much time before dinner tonight. According to Sylvana, most of the guests change into formal attire to eat. So, if I ask Jake to zip me up, he will assume I’m dressing for dinner. Standing in the center of the room, my blonde hair extra wild and falling over one eye, one hand on my hip as I pose, I text him and wait.
“I need your assistance in zipping up my dress for dinner and your opinion on whether I’m underdressed. Xxx”
My dress for dinner is lying across the bed, so if I fail at my ‘before dinner seduction’, it will be easy to pull over what I’m wearing, leaving him with a clear image throughout the meal. The dress is one of his favorites, classy, black, and tight. However, I’m betting on succeeding and skipping dinner altogether.
After a few minutes, he walks in, adjusting a cufflink, and pauses, seeing me standing sexily, legs apart, hands on hips, jutting out my bust toward him with a look of ‘fuck me’ on my face. He regards me up and down slowly, his stance physically changing to show his immediate apprehension, and I see the confidence waver in his eyes. I’ve at least thrown him, so I give myself a point for that.
Saying nothing, he moves past me, his eyes unable to tear free. He goes and picks my dress off the bed and holds it out to me from a distance. His face is such a picture of confusion it makes me inwardly smile.
“Maybe I need help putting it on.” I bite my lip seductively, and his mouth parts in response; he sighs heavily. Those green eyes are dark and heavy. He can’t conceal his longing from me.
Casanova Carrero, where have you gone?
He looks almost nervous, like a tongue-tied teen. I’m waiting as he starts to fumble with the dress. He seems ready to combust. He’s never met overly sexual and forward Emma. I’m kind of liking her.
Was it really not long ago that all sex was abhorrent to me, and I kept everyone at a firm distance? Look at me now!
“Sure.” He swallows hard and holds up the dress to find the shoulders as he tries to figure out how to drape it on me. He has already changed into a dark shirt and pants, looking devastating as always, with freshly styled hair. I wonder when he came in here to get a change of clothes, possibly when I was showering.
He walks forward, lowering the dress and holding it open for me to step into. His eyes skim me achingly as he pulls it up my body and over the tight mesh slip dress, carefully keeping his hands from touching me.
He doesn’t trust himself to touch me. Another point for me.
As we’re so close now, I notice his breathing is much shallower than normal, and his eyes are dilated; he’s almost ripping my clothes off mentally. I give myself a little internal applause. When he gets to face height, I lean forward smoothly and open my lips mere millimeters from him.
I see him stop.
He doesn’t move, just waits, anticipating my kiss. His eyes are heavily focused on my mouth, every muscle in his face pausing and waiting, and that overwhelming lust radiates from his expression. I tilt my head, gently breathe on his soft mouth and linger achingly close, inhaling and heating up with his closeness. It makes me ache badly, and my fingers are almost itching to touch him. I swear he holds his breath for a moment, his head moving forward a touch as his desire to kiss me grows. I pull away with a smile.
“Don’t want to ruin my lipstick.” I feign innocence, basking in the site of the furrow on his brow. He pulls the dress the rest of the way up with attitude. His eyes narrow, and he spins me, zipping me up a little forcefully and smacking me hard on my ass.
“Ouch,” I yelp and move away from him quickly. A storm starts brewing in his delicious face, and I can see his body stiffening and his muscles tensing.
“Dinner is going to be interesting,” he growls huskily; I can tell I have more than thrown him. He’s possibly about to self-implode. “Sure, you don’t just want to sign the contract and admit defeat, Bambina?” He moves close to me this time, his mouth even closer than I dared.
I shake my head as I watch him, our eyes locked. His hand trails my leg lazily, skimming the tight dress until he grazes my breast and ignites the usual sizzling response in me. His hand, feather-light, makes its way to my jaw until I’m almost breathless with its journey. He pulls me forward for the softest kiss of my life, his lips barely brushing mine, moving into me further, teasing and grazing. His hand skims along my jaw softly as his other comes to cup the other side. It’s soft and sensual kissing that contrasts every signal he’s sending off right now.
Moving deeper into my mouth, he teases my lips open with the sheer strength of seduction. He kisses me gently, easing in slowly to a more passionate motion. His tongue slipping across my bottom lip and tentatively touching mine. As kisses go, he’s never hit me with the expertise of this make-out session. This is a different kind of assault, a new tactic with sheer softness.
Soon I’m fully wrapped around him, dragging his arms to me to try and push the kiss further. I’m completely panting, surprised at how much he’s turned me on in a matter of seconds. Still locked together, tongues still caressing, and lips molded together, I am so close to surrender. If he had a pen, I would sign the contract while still being kissed this way. Jake knows exactly how to weaken me. He doesn’t need words or his body; he can always do it with a kiss.
Realizing that is exactly his plan, I pull away sharply, heaving in the air and trying to steady myself against him. He sucks in his bottom lip seductively, eyeing me with satisfaction, tasting me, and smiles, his mouth stained with my red color.
“Your lipstick tastes good. Pity it now looks pretty fucked-up.” He lets go of me the way you would drop a piece of trash and smirks before walking off toward the door, that look of ‘strike two’ on his face. Raging internally, I turn to the mirror to face the mess of my mouth and grit my teeth. He did this because I refused to kiss him on the pretense of ruining my lipstick, and now it’s so smeared and smudged that I have no alternative but to wipe it off and start again or go without. He’s made a mess of all of the makeup around my mouth. He grabs for tissues to wipe off the berry-shade evidence of his assault as he leaves with a whistle and a slight bounce to his walk. I just played right into his hands for the second time.
Asshole! He’s just too damned good at this!
He had me so close to giving in, and he didn’t even know it; as I become aware of this fact, my inner strength kicks in.
Well, that was my one weak moment, and from now on, I will strengthen my resolve. If he’s playing dirty, I intend to play dirty, too. Fight fire with fire.
* * *
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