I feel him exhale at the side of my neck and then a tiny nibble of the sensitive skin at my collarbone. “Also sweet,” he says. “You covered yourself with apple juice?”
I can’t help laughing now as he leans back to look at my face, still guiding me with his strong arms. “I love making you smile,” he says.
Then he pulls me close and nibbles my neck again. “I’d like to make you do more than just smile. I’d like to make you call out my name and beg me to taste you again,” he whispers into my ear. It’s like an electric jolt from my ear to between my legs. It shouldn’t be this easy to turn me on — the man hasn’t even touched me — but I’m pretty sure my cotton panties are soaked.
His hands touch the bare skin at the back of my neck and shoulders. Goose bumps follow the trail of his fingertips on my sensitive skin. He looks at my face with an evil smile. “I want to see you flush with desire.”
I turn bright red at that, and he laughs at me. “That’s not what I meant, but it’ll do for now.”
I can feel his erection pressing against me, and I swallow, trying not to think about touching it. His eyes are on my throat now, and I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing. Or maybe the swallowing. Is he imagining me on my knees, pulling it out and bringing my lips to him? I can feel my face heat up as I image running my lips alongside it before opening at the tip of his shaft.
“Tell me,” he whispers. I can’t speak. “Tell me what you are thinking.” His voice is a low growl as he maneuvers me closer to the speakers, drowning out the rest of the party. “It’s written all over your face, Crystal, I want you to tell me.”
“I was thinking I’d like to touch you.”
He pulls me closer at that, and we move slower, no longer moving around the dance floor. “How?”
I’m embarrassed but also so turned on. I feel like it must be visible to everyone around us. The thought of that turns me on even more. I take a deep, shuddering breath and go for broke. “I want to get on my knees and pull off your pants and…” My mouth is dry, and I’m both frightened and turned on.
“Say it,” he says. “Talk dirty to me.”
“I want to pull out your cock.” Somehow, saying the word makes a dam break inside of me, and I’m now whispering fast into his ears, my eyes closed. “I want to touch your cock and then run my lips along it. I want to press the tip into my mouth and taste you. I want to taste the whole thing.”
He groans and pulls me tighter to him. “You are a dangerous little minx,” he whispers. “So sweet and innocent looking, but a little hellfire underneath. I bet you say that to all the men.”
I know I’m more innocent than he can even imagine, but he’s right. I feel like my very blood is on fire, heating up my pussy as I imagine him touching me, taking me. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him right now. But I’m not telling him that. He’s already got way too much control over me.
“I want to take you right here,” he whispers. “I don’t care who is here, I don’t care who sees.”
My breath catches at the thought. I know he wouldn’t… he couldn’t. But the idea of it is like a drug, and my panties are wet with lust.
I’m dizzy with his words of what he wants to do to me, not to mention the dance and the music and the smell of his cologne, and I’m pretty sure I could cling to his hard shoulders forever, but he leads me to the edge of the dance floor. We need to get out of here before I do something I regret. Then, as the music fades, he holds me close for a moment longer. “Stay there.”
“What?”
“I need to think about baseball for a moment,” he says. “Cover me.”
It takes me a moment to take in what he’s saying, and then I start giggling like a school girl. “Seriously?”
He runs a thumb over my cheek. “Don’t blush, it makes it worse.” Then he leans to whisper in my ear. “Say you want me, too.” His breath is hot. I swallow again suddenly finding it hard to breathe. My body is already arching against him like it has a will of its own.
“I’m not sure you’re still talking about baseball,” I whisper back.
He laughs out loud at that, even though I’m kicking myself. What’s wrong with me? The sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and all I can do is make stupid jokes.
A male voice interrupts us. “Knox!”
Knox’s eyes meet mine for one long, lingering second, and I imagine I see regret, that he doesn’t want to pull away. But he turns with a broad smile. “George, how are you! Can I introduce my friend, Crystal?”
George takes my hand and raises it to his lips. “You always have the most beautiful friends,” says George, looking at me like I’m a piece of fruit he’s considering taking a bite out of.
Knox frowns and puts his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. The hands-off message is clear, and George raises his eyebrows.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” he says and holds my hand a moment longer than seems appropriate.
Another man walks up, and Knox introduces me to him. Apparently, both of them are on the board of directors of his company. George finally lets go of my hand and is scanning the room. “Have you spoken to her?”
“I’ve not seen her,” says Knox. “But she agreed we could talk about the waterfront deal tonight.”
Knox ends up deep in conversation about the deal, and I feel a yawn coming on.
I’ve been on my feet all day, and I’m really starting to feel it. I wait for a break in the conversation. “I’m just going to the powder room, back in a moment,” I whisper. He nods and smiles at me, so I feel free to slip away. I don’t dare stop where Jeanette or someone similar can corner me into conversation, so I wander through the house, looking for somewhere quiet to hide.
It’s easy to find the kitchen by watching the staff carrying the silver trays. In there, I find a back door leading out to a garden. No one stops me as I cross the room and go outside, carefully leaving the door cracked behind me so I can’t get locked out.
I kick off my heels and lean against the side of the house, taking a deep breath of night air. As my eyes become used to the darkness, I realize I’m not alone. There’s an old woman in a severe black dress sitting in a high-backed wooden chair on the grass.
She raises an eyebrow as I make eye contact. “Shouldn’t you be in the party, dear? I am sure I’d recognize you if you were working in the kitchen, and this area is for staff breaks, not for guests.”
“I…” Great. Now I’ve been caught wandering around the premises. I wonder if she’s in charge of the kitchen and whether I can flatter her with kind words about the meatballs. I hope she doesn’t drag me in front of Mrs. Scaravelli. Knox would just love that.
In the end, I just go for a straight apology. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t sneaking around, I just wanted a breath of fresh air.”
“I see.” She takes a sip of water. “Stop looking so nervous, like I’m going to search you for missing silverware.” She looks me up and down. “Not that that dress would leave you anywhere to hide it.”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment as my hand instinctively goes to my cleavage to try to pull the neckline up. “I’m sorry, I’ll go back inside. I didn’t mean to disturb you on your break.”
I’m struggling to get my shoes back on when something moves alongside me. A black cat rubs itself on my ankles before jumping onto the wooden armrest of her chair and then circles onto her lap. The woman strokes his head, and he settles, closing his golden eyes with a purr of contentment. He looks more like a miniature panther than a house cat, all sleek and sinuous.
“Wow.” There’s me with the great command of the English language again. “That’s the most magnificent cat I’ve ever seen. He’s like something out of the jungle.”
Something like a smile crosses her face, and she strokes the cat again.
He opens his luminous eyes and looks towards me in curiosity, and I can’t stop myself. I reach my hand out for him to sniff.
The cat wrinkles his nose at me and then stretches
as if he doesn’t care. I step back again, bend down to fix my shoe strap, and the next thing I know, he’s leaping from the woman’s lap to the floor to wind himself around my feet.
“Max is a Bombay,” says the woman. “Basically, a Burmese and American short-hair cross. They make for a good house cat as they are suckers for a friendly face. Complete sluts for attention.”
The cat head butts my hand, and I give in to his demands and stroke him, glad I don’t have to look this woman in the eye. Did she really just say that? “He’s beautiful,” I say, for lack of anything better.
“You like cats.” She phrases it as a statement, not a question, but what the heck. It’s true.
“I have two. Both just tabby mixes, nothing special.” I reach out and pet Max under his chin. His fur is as soft as silk. He looks at me expectantly, and I stroke him again. “Mine are not as beautiful as you, no, but don’t tell them I said that,” I tell him.
The woman laughs. “Max knows he’s the most gorgeous cat in the universe, you don’t have to tell him.”
I smile back and stand up. “I better let you get back to work,” I tell her. “Sorry for intruding.”
“Yes, well, no harm done. But please, stay out of the kitchen in the future, or I’ll find you a job to do.” Her words are stern, but she’s still smiling as the cat head butts my ankle in complaint.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” I say, and head back into the party.
Knox is still talking to his friends, but as I come up behind him, he reaches out and takes my hand. I find it remarkable and a little bit breathtaking that he’s so aware of my presence. I let their conversation wash over me for a few minutes.
“There’s our hostess,” says George. The three men turn to look. “Go charm her, Knox.”
“I’ll do my best.” He squeezes my hand. “I need to talk to Mrs. Scaravelli, but I’ll be right back.”
I smile to let him know that’s fine; that’s why we are here, after all. But as I turn to look, my jaw drops a little bit. Over by the sitting room door is cat woman in the severe black dress.
I chew my lip. Have I messed this up? But I have no chance to tell him, because he’s already striding towards her, nodding hello. I scurry to catch up. I’m going to have to apologize, or something.
She sees him and nods. “Knox Lockwood, I know you’ve been looking for me. Come sit down with me in the sitting room and say your piece, if you must.”
It’s an order, not a request. I’m struck by the tone of voice: a woman who is used to getting what she wants. I can imagine her and Knox head-to-head, and it wouldn’t be pretty.
He glances back at me. She follows his look and clearly notices me for the first time. I can’t help but wince. I’m sure she knows I thought she was the housekeeper.
She doesn’t say anything about recognizing me, just raises one eyebrow. “Well, Knox, aren’t you going to introduce me to your pretty companion?”
“My name’s Crystal,” I say and manage to keep from sticking out my hand to shake this time. I should have let him answer, but I’ve already screwed this up so bad.
“Martha Scaravelli,” she says, like I haven’t already worked it out. She glances at Knox and then back to me. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Crystal, I’m afraid we have some business to discuss.” Knox looks apologetic, but I know there’s nothing he can do.
George catches up to us. “I’ll look after her for you, Knox, don’t worry.” His smile looks like a leer to me. I don’t want to be stuck alone with him, but I don’t think I have a choice.
I’m pretty sure I’ve kept my dismay from my face, but Mrs. Scaravelli isn’t fooled.
“Actually, I think Max was hoping for a chance to sit with her, ” she says, dismissing George with a wave and turning back to me. “You go keep Max company for me while I talk to Knox. He’ll be near the kitchen, no doubt.”
“Max,” I say. The cat. She’s setting up an escape route for me. For once, I manage not to say anything stupid. “I’ll go find him now.” And, before anyone can say anything else, I walk away.
As I leave the sitting room, I look around the party to find Crystal. Unfortunately, I find George, instead.
“I haven’t seen her,” he says. He looks disappointed, and I make a mental note to make sure Crystal’s never left alone with him. It would be bad form to kill one of my vice presidents.
He wants to know how my conversation with Mrs. Scaravelli went, but I brush him off to go find Crystal. Truth is, I’m not sure how it went. I went over the numbers, talking about the profits involved and that we were happy to cut her in on it. She seemed distracted and, although she seemed to give me her full attention, I didn’t feel like she was listening to what I said.
And now I’m not listening to whatever George is babbling on about, searching the faces of the New York A-list for a pretty little waitress from Queens.
One of the catering staff sees me and dashes off to the kitchen, and a moment later Crystal appears. What’s she doing in there? But she’s smiling at me, looking more relaxed than she has all evening, and I decide I’m probably better off not quizzing her.
I grab her wrist and pull her back with a quick spank on that beautiful ass. “Are you ready to go?”
“Am I ever!” Once in the car, she kicks her shoes off and leans back in the seat, closing her eyes. It gives me a moment to just stare at her luscious form, stretched out next to me. Of course, from there I start to think about her stretched out underneath me, and the engine hasn’t even warmed up before I’m sporting another erection. I’m half amazed at myself — no one has done this to me since I was fifteen. I slide the car into gear and pull onto the highway.
“So, who’s Max?”
She laughs and opens her eyes. “Just a guy I’d met earlier.”
“Just a guy? How’d you meet him?”
“Are you jealous?” Her eyes gleam in the street lights. “Max is very charming, actually. Dark and handsome.”
I grip the steering wheel tighter, a flash of something cold in my gut. She looks like she’s going to say more, but I don’t want hear it, don’t want to admit the surge of possessiveness rising in me. I put my hand on her thigh and stroke along the edge of her dress to distract her. It works, she gives a little gasp of surprise. Her eyes widen, and her lips part. My cock stiffens to rock hard just at the look on her face.
I stroke my fingers along her thigh and push her dress up a little higher. “Why don’t you open up a little bit. You seem tense. Maybe all those men flocking around you like bears to honey.” She looks at me then, but as I press her legs apart, she closes her eyes, her head tilted back. She opens her thighs with a tiny moan that makes me want to pull over on the spot.
I keep my eyes on the road as my fingers run up the insides of her thighs. Her legs part further, and I brush against the damp fabric of her underwear. She shivers at my touch as I stroke a finger back and forth as slowly as I can. I don’t push the fabric aside, although I’m dying to touch her.
I want to save this for a better moment, for example when I’m not desperately trying to keep half my attention on my driving. At the same time, I can’t find it in me to stop. I want to hear her cry out for me.
As I stroke the fabric, she tilts her hips towards my hand, begging for more. I press against her clit, easy to find under the damp cotton, and she bucks against my touch. I can’t resist looking at her, stretched out on my seat, her dress bunching around her waist. Her hands are in fists, her back arched, and I know she’s close to climax. I press the damp fabric against her most sensitive spot, and she moans loudly, lifting her hips to meet me.
“Please, don’t stop,” she whispers.
There’s no way I can, not now, and I run my fingers up and down, barely able to resist pressing the fabric aside. “Come for me, darling.” My voice is a deep growl, my body on fire for her. The wind wipes my words away as we race down the road. A truck goes past, and I know they can see straight in, her dress arou
nd her waist, my hand buried in her soaking wet pussy. “Come all over my car,” I tell her. My cock is so hard, I’m worried I’ll rip the tux pants.
“Oh my God, yes,” she screams. Her thighs clench around my hand, trapping me in place. And with that, she goes over the edge, bucking hard against my finger as she cries out. She whimpers, her eyes closed, as I stroke her gently again.
I almost miss her exit as she writhes in the seat in the last throes of her orgasm. I’m tempted to miss it on purpose, as it is going to mean removing my hand currently pressed in her hot and wet center. With what feels like superhuman willpower, I withdraw my fingers, ignoring her whimper, and take the turn-off. She lies collapsed on the seat, a small smile on her face.
As I pull up to her apartment, I find myself wondering if she’ll invite me in, or if I should offer to take her somewhere else. Somewhere we can finish what we started.
She stretches and looks around. “Oh, we’re here.” She looks down at herself, a blush spreading across her face. Then she opens the car door and steps out, barefoot. “I guess you’ll want your dress back. I’ll just run up and change, won’t be a minute.”
It’s not quite as direct an invitation as I was hoping for. “I’m happy to come up.” I get out of the car and to her side, pulling her to me, crushing her breasts against my chest. Her lips are parted, and I bend down to kiss her.
I’ve been wanting this woman since I first saw her in that stupid Lido’s Loco uniform, if I’m honest, and the kiss is like a dam bursting. My hands drop to her ass, pulling her tightly against me so she can feel how badly I want her. I’m hard as diamonds, and she’s the only one. Her softness is the only thing that will give me relief. She moans and squirms against me, grinding against my hardness.
“I…” she’s trying to talk, but I don’t want to stop kissing her long enough to hear what she has to say. I trail my way down her face and to her cleavage, pulling the straps down over her shoulders. We need to get inside before I pull this dress off of her in the middle of the street. She clearly thinks the same thing, because she backs up, her cheeks bright spots of pink.
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