“Good girl,” he says. Then he stops, turning towards me. “Oh. And one more thing. Leave the dress alone. You look fucking incredible.”
Then he kisses me.
It’s hot, sweet, rushed, and brief. When he pulls away, his eyes go down to my breasts, and I swallow hard.
“You’re going to make my nipples hard,” I whisper because I can’t manage much else at this point.
“And that would be bad because…?”
“I’m not wearing a bra,” I remind him.
“I’m aware,” he says, and I can tell by the way he is clenching and unclenching his hands that he wants to touch me. I know that Damien is going to get what he wants.
“People will be staring at me,” I tell him.
“So let them stare,” he says grittily, bringing his hands up to my breasts and tracing my nipples with his thumbs. My jaw unhinges just enough for my lips to part. “That’s the whole point.Everyone wants you, but you are mine” he says before he teases my nipples again.
“Fuck,” I gasp, and his lips tip in the corners to form a perfect smirk.
“Alright, Mariposa. Let’s go.”
Damien leads me into the room. It’s a maze of couches and chairs, a bar and tables. Music similar to what was playing in the other room except darker is playing loud enough to drown out people’s conversations, but not loud enough that anyone has to yell.
But that’s not what has my mouth propped open. Upon every surface, from chairs to couches to pillows on the floor, people are all over each other. As in kissing, groping, fingering, licking, thrusting and everything in between.
“Smile, Annelise,” Damien reminds me as we weave in and out and around everyone.
“Of course,” I answer, forcing my mouth shut and my lips into a smile. “Anything you say, Mr. Graves.”
“Damien,” he says.
“Sorry?” I ask.
Damien stops and looks over at me, his face close enough that he could kiss me again if he wanted to. “Call me Damien when we are here.”
“Okay…Damien,” I say, and his lips go a little slack. I swear for a moment that it did something to him.
“Good girl,” he says. “Now let’s get a drink. You’re too rigid.”
So are you,I think to myself, because I very much know that he’s struggling as much as I am not to be turned on right now. His slacks are tighter than they were five minutes ago.
Damien orders himself a rum and soda and then turns to me. “What would you like, Annelise?”
“Something fruity. But sour. A little spice too,” I answer.
“Fun,” the bartender smiles. Then he looks at Damien. “She’s fun.”
My lips quirk in a smile, but my eyes lock on Damien. He smirks as well and tips his head in approval. Test one, check.
A moment later, a guy sets a girl on the bar next to us. Her short dress hikes up around her hips, exposing hot pink panties.
“Good evening, Mr. Graves,” the guy says as he parts the girl’s legs.
“Xavier,” Damien says. “Enjoying the party?”
Xavier looks at the girl who bites her lip. A smirk crawls across his lips, and he slides a finger up inside her apparently crotchless panties. “It’s great. As always.”
We get our drinks, and Damien’s lips tick again before he holds his glass up to Xavier’s, who cheers him with one hand and makes the girl moan with the other. I skip the cheers and take a deep gulp of my drink.
