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Giselle
Giselle’s body was flush with complicated, hot, stuffy emotions. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her heart beat ran wild. She stood in the center of the studio, the digital glow of the machines reflecting primary colors across her face. Chills spread down her bare arms from her exposed shoulder. She felt her nipples stiffening under her tank top as the cool air rolled inside. Her eyes were lidded, her lashes thick and heavy as she batted them slowly. This was a side of Giselle nobody really knew. She tapped into it sometimes onstage, when the energy of the crowd reached a screaming high, and their collective enthusiasm was just too contagious. She knew how to play to a crowd. She held their emotions in the palm of her hand. In those moments, feeding off their hunger, she felt most in control of herself and her fate. She felt empowered, free, and sensual.
Rarely did she feel that way off the stage. Her swagger was partly for show, another layer of armor to protect her from feeling anything too real, too intimate. But now, standing before the objects of her seduction, she felt that power crackle through her veins once again.
These men wanted her with the same intensity that her audience craved her presence. Only they weren’t interested in a song and dance. They wanted her—the Giselle underneath.
Asher and Blaze sat in stunned silence. They gazed at her with their eyes wide and their jaws, hands, legs twitching. She could feel their tension, how they held themselves back. The desire to get closer to her, to let their boundaries drop away and touch her like they so badly want to… it was eating them alive. Giselle couldn’t deny it any longer; she wanted it, too.
She was tired of waiting—not just tonight, but her whole life.
“I mean it. Come do your job,” Giselle invited, with a gesture to her full body.
“That’s not what I was trying to imply,” Blaze murmured finally.
In response, Giselle slipped the other strap off her shoulder. The tank top dropped a couple of inches, revealing a devastating amount of cleavage. It clung to her body by a thread.
“So you’re telling me this doesn’t do anything for you?” she purred.
“Careful,” Asher said softly, holding up one hand as though he were creating a force-field.
“I’ve been careful,” she replied. “I’m done with that.”
“Are there cameras in this room?” Blaze asked.
Giselle glanced around defiantly, looking for cameras. She didn’t see one.
“I don’t care either way,” she said with a shrug. “I want what I want, and I don’t give a damn who sees.”
She began taking slow, deliberate steps closer to the boys, who were watching her with rapt attention. Giselle pulled the drawstring knot loose at her belly, and her frumpy sweatpants began to slide down, showing a glimpse of the black thong underneath. She swayed her hips from side to side, running her dainty fingers down her body.
“Fuck,” Blaze swore, swiping his hand over his jaw.
“Giselle,” said Asher in a warning voice.
“You guys couldn’t keep your hands off of me long enough to avoid the paparazzi on Sunday night, but now that we’re finally by ourselves, you’ve learned some self-control?” she provoked, getting frustrated now.
“What happened that night was never supposed to happen,” Asher said.
“But it did! And now you two are showing me your true colors. I thought you guys were tough. I thought you knew how to seize control and put me in my place, huh? Why don’t you try that now?” she dared them.
She let the tank top slide a little further down, almost exposing her perky pink nipples. She slid her sweatpants down to show the elastic straps over her hips.
“Stop that,” Blaze commanded.
He got to his feet with his hands clenched into fists and his jaw clenching with rage. He closed the space between them in two quick steps. He towered over Giselle, making her feel small and meek in his shadow. She could smell his masculine musk, feel the heat radiating off of his hard, muscled body. Giselle glanced down to see his cock straining at the front of his jeans. She licked her lips and looked up at him with a rebellious smile.
“Make me,” she whispered icily.
In one swift movement, Blaze grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them behind her back, pulling her tight against him in the process. He glared down at her while she grinned at him. Adrenaline rushed deliciously in her veins. She felt like she was on fire in the best way.
“Gentle, Blaze,” Asher reminded him.
She glanced over at him. “Gentle? You think I need to be handled with care? You think I’m some fragile little damsel in distress?” she goaded him.
He shook his head, rubbing his hands together as he slowly approached the pair of them. Blaze still held her tight, his fingernails digging into her wrists.
“No, Giselle. I don’t think that at all,” Asher replied. “You’re not fragile. You’re a bad girl, and you ought to know better.”
