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She seemed confused by his command.
His voice was firm, but soft. “Eva. From now on, I want you to take twice as long with everything I tell you to do. Every. Little. Thing. No matter how small or inconsequential it may seem. Count in your head if you must. One...two...If something takes you five seconds normally, it should take you ten. Fifteen. Twenty would be even better. Do you understand?”
She blinked. Then understanding filled her eyes, the understanding that these were the lessons she’d asked for. He began to reach for his champagne flute but was caught off guard when she dipped her chin, and, at a maddeningly calculating and deliberate pace, freed her hair. Dark tendrils fell in a waterfall, bit by bit at first, and then all at once, her hair splashed wildly over her shoulders, partially veiling her face.
For a moment, time stood still as their eyes locked, and his mind went blank. He’d planned quite a lot, but it all seemed to float off into oblivion as he stared at Eva, fucking gorgeous Eva, standing there, waiting expectantly for his next command. His fingers reached out absently toward the desk, and he nearly knocked the champagne flute to the ground.
He wrapped his hand around the stem, brought it to his mouth, and took a deep, thirsty gulp, followed by a cleansing breath. “Have you ever stripped for a man, Eva?”
She shook her head quickly. “Is that what you want me to do?”
He exhaled. “Yes. And I am going to teach you how to do it to drive a man fucking wild.”
She seemed to run that through her head for a beat, two. Then, with painfully measured movement, she tilted her head to the side and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I feel silly,” she mumbled.
“I assure you, you look anything but silly. You’re stunning. Now untie your dress,” he said, gesturing to her neck, letting her know what he wanted her to do. “Slow and confident, you’re unveiling a priceless, precious work of art…”
She took a breath and continued. Her fingers crawled up the sides of that tight-tight dress, pausing at her tits, then snaking their way behind her neck. They lingered back there, until he was sure he’d go mad with anticipation. Finally, she loosened the tie, and pulled the pieces apart. Inch by inch, no, centimeter by centimeter—what an incredibly fast study she was—the fabric gave way, down down down, exposing more of her soft golden skin. He drew in a shaky breath, desperate to see those tits he’d only felt through too-thick fabric.
She had seamlessly crossed the line into goddess territory, and by the Mona Lisa smile on her face, he suspected she knew it. Slowly, she turned her back to him.
Maybe he’d taught her too well, because this was damn near excruciating. He’d found it amusing when she’d referred to his dick as the monster in his pants, but here he was, creating a monster of his very own, a woman who slayed him with every subtle shift of her hips.
“That’s right,” he murmured. “You’re doing it perfectly.”
Turning to look over her shoulder at him, she let the dress fall to her waist. She had an elegantly sculpted back, like that of a dancer—the kind men wrote poetry about. Innocence still flared in her eyes, making her all the more enticing. She had no idea how dangerous she was becoming. His cock twitched again, filling him with the urge to take her on the carpet, make her his that instant, but he clenched his fists. Control. Take back the control.
He reached for his champagne flute, but it was empty. When the hell had he drained it?
Taking her sweet time, she lower
ed the dress down her waist, shimmying a little as she peeled it leisurely over her wide hips. When she let the fabric puddle at her heels, he couldn’t stop himself from reacting. He let out a groan. There Eva stood, in nothing but a black g-string, garter belt, nylons, and fuck-me heels. That ass was irresistible, full, round, and for a moment he thought she was just playing innocent for him. After all, where could angelic Eva have found such a devilish ensemble? How could she have been hiding this?
His cock wanted to call the shots now; his dick ached, throbbing painfully in his pants, demanding to be attended to. He leaned forward, toward the edge of his seat. His hands tightened over the arms of the chair.
He bit down hard to control each word, but they still came out in a growl. “Come. Here.”
She tossed her dark hair to the side again—god, she had a lot of hair, wild hair, all wavy and messy, the way he liked it. She turned to him, finally giving him a view of her lush breasts. He put out a hand to stop her from coming any closer, and she obeyed, standing there with her legs slightly parted in heels and barely anything else, breathing in short, rapid breaths. It was those little breaths, those wide eyes, that told him she was still his Eva, though everything else about her had transformed.
His eyes roamed her from head to toe, and he had to fight a good fight to make sure that he did every part of her justice, that he took his time—his gaze lingering on every exquisite feature—just as she had taken her time for the strip tease. Her face—well, that had always been beautiful. She had dark eyes, shaped in such a way that she always looked like she had a little something up her sleeve, full lips that had been the color of candy from the day he first met her. Her limbs weren’t lanky anymore—her every feature was creamy and soft around the edges, like an Italian goddess statue. Her tits weren’t heavy, but full and perfectly curved, with pink nipples, already hard with excitement. There was a slope to her belly, a natural one, that suited her, and the small lace V that made up her panties was bordered on the underside by two of the most gorgeously shaped legs he’d ever seen.
He wasn’t prepared for this. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, a sound of weakness would come out, so he beckoned her with his finger.
This time, it took too long to bridge the distance. By the time she reached him, he was desperate to touch her. From the edge of his seat, he reached out and, almost violently, yanked her to him. The air whooshed out of her lungs as she stood before him, gazing down into his eyes.
“I was supposed to drive you crazy,” she said breathlessly. “You’re entirely too calm.”
He snorted. Could she not see the hunger in his eyes, hear the racing of his breath, see the bulge inside his pants, vying for her attention? Not wanting to scare her, he took her manicured hand, and planted it flush against his chest. “Feel that?” he breathed.
Her eyes widened.
Now she was so close her warmth burned his skin, setting him on fire, and he hadn’t a clue what to do first. Over the past few days, he’d contemplated this moment over and over. Now everything was unfolding, more sensuously than he’d even imagined, and she was close enough to hold and kiss and taste.
But what to do first? He sucked in a breath.
“What now?” she murmured, entwining her fingers with his, her breath warm on his forehead.
Carefully, he planted his hands on the backs of her thighs, drawing her closer, then dragged them up over the ample curve of her ass. He could feel her tremble as he brought his mouth to her belly and kissed his way to her navel, her hipbone. Her skin tasted sweet, and his lips ached for more. He opened his mouth fully on her skin, wanting to lick every inch of her at once. She gasped as he hooked his fingers in the straps of her barely-there panties and began to slide them down her hips.
