Page 35 of Tease Me

I turn to find a beautiful woman with gray hair swept up into chignon and sapphire earrings at her lobes. I’ve never met her, but I know this is Tina Letterman. It’s been said that she’s been running the company in the background while her husband remains the face of it. I give her my most charming smile, pleased at my good fortune. Letterman is a drunk, but Tina has a sharp shrewd look about her. Maybe I’ve been planning to suck up to the wrong Letterman.

“I’m sure they were envious of him dancing with such a beautiful lady, not the other way around.”

She gives me a laugh. “Back then, Reg was quite the catch. And it had nothing to do with his fortune. Back then we barely had two cents to rub together, but, oh, he was a handsome fellow.”

I can’t picture Reginald Letterman as being anything other than the rounded red faced man he is.

“Now it seems that everyone is jealous of him,” she continues. “It’s the men who are jealous. Your cousin is very beautiful.”

I follow her line of sight to where he and Lucinda are dancing. Then I glance around. She’s right. Everyone is watching them, but could they be jealous of him or do they just want to talk to Letterman like I do? His time is precious.

“I’ve not really thought about it,” I lie chugging back the last of my whisky and ordering another one. I don’t want to look at the pair of them and I don’t know why. I’m the one that encouraged Lucinda to dance, but now it’s turning my stomach.

“She’s blind?”

I nod. “Has been since birth. Another lie. I hadn’t planned on coming here and lying about everything. The evening is unraveling around me. I’d wanted to talk business and get my foot in the door, not discuss Lucinda’s fake history.

“She’s dancing beautifully, but you can see how nervous she is. It must be quite difficult for her to come here without her cane.”

Shit. I’d not even thought to bring a cane for her. It never occurred to me because she doesn’t have one. She kind of feels her way around the apartment and she managed to run through the forest to the cabin without a cane. At least I don’t remember seeing one in the cabin. It’s another oddity that a blind person wouldn’t have one. It only strikes me as odd now that it’s been pointed out. Why doesn’t she have a cane? Her father can certainly afford to give her anything she needs. Hell, after all the modeling contracts and acting credits to her name, she’s independently wealthy enough to pay for everything herself.

“I think she wants to be normal for one night,” I say, watching her dance. It’s clear Letterman is leading her, but she’s following his lead as though she can see where her feet are going. She really is beautiful. In her white dress, she looks like an angel being spun around. If she still had her long blonde hair, I’d almost expect her to fly away. Fuck. She’s way too pretty for her own good. Even in the amazing disguise, men can’t keep their eyes off her. Jealousy punches me unbidden in the gut as I take in their stares, desire obvious in the way they look at her. It’s not a surprise to me that men desire her. Hell, she’s been on the cover of most fashion magazines for years and I’ve never taken much notice, but watching her now, how gracefully she moves and knowing how skin tight her dress is beneath the shawl has me thinking about her in ways I shouldn’t. I’m not Mercier who can’t keep his dick in his pants or Nix, who is crazy over her despite the front he puts up. She’s a fucking pay check and nothing more. I pride myself on my control, but watching the way she’s being coveted has me feeling agitated and something else entirely. I watch as Letterman cups his hand under her ass and my blood boils.

I leave Tina with a sharp goodbye and storm across the dance floor, ready to punch Letterman for being a disgusting old letch. I’m furious, but as I sidle up to them, I see my future in crystal clarity. If I punch my new boss out, I’ll never be able to make it on my own. I’ll be blacklisted before I even start. Fuck it. I stand, stiff, my hands curled into fists, but it’s only when Letterman shoves his hand right between her legs, that I can clearly see her ass cheeks through the thin silk and she cries out, that I make the move I know I shouldn’t.

“May I cut in?” I hold my hand out in a way that offers no other answer than yes. Letterman gives me a disappointed stare as he reluctantly lets go of Lucinda. Fucking asshole.

I take hold of Lucinda before he can put up a fight. He’s not an idiot. He must have seen the anger in my eyes. It might have cost me my chance to talk with him, but I’m willing to bet he’s so drunk he won’t remember any of this in the morning. I watch as he walks toward his wife, who passes him another drink.

Lucinda’s breathing becomes deeper, making me turn my attention back to her. The shawl has slipped slightly, showing off her shoulder and the top of her tits. She feels fucking weightless in my arms. I can see why Letterman grabbed her ass. It’s taking every ounce of control I possess not to do the fucking same, but I’m not the letch he is, so I run my arm under her shawl and around her waist. I take her other hand in mine. She seems momentarily confused and unsure of what to do.

“Put your hand on my waist,” I tell her.

She does what I ask without question, her perfect lips parting slightly as I pull her body close to mine. I twirl her around the dance floor a couple of times, acutely aware that all eyes are on us... on her. I’m under no illusion that they are staring at me. The music changes from the slow melody to something more sultry. As though she’s one with the music, she pulls her hand from mine and places them round my neck. I run my hands round her waist, going with it. Her body pushes against mine, and I find myself grinding into her. I don’t know if she’s forgotten where she is, or who she is, but she’s rubbing her body against mine, grinding her hips as we sway to the music. We’re practically vertically fucking on the dance floor. I do what I promised not to and grab her ass, pulling her closer to me. Her lips part slightly in surprise, but then she laughs. I just about fucking lose it. All kinds of thoughts run through my mind about what I’d like to do with those lips and what I’d like her to do with them. I feel like a fucking fifteen-year-old boy who's just discovered he’s got hormones. I want to dance her right out of this room and rip that fucking shawl from her and take her. I want her. The realization that I’m no better than Mercier or Nix or one of the millions of men that fawn over Lucinda Waldgrave sobers me up for a second, but it’s not enough to stop the aching need within me. Just because I can recognize it doesn’t mean I can do anything about it. I don’t want to do anything about it, because right now, nothing else matters. I just want to taste her and feel her lips on me. I want everything and most of all, I want the world to know that she’s mine. I take one hand from her ass and angle her face up toward mine with a finger under her chin. They way she looks at me, full of expectation, is a fucking thrill like no other. I lean into her, inhaling the scent of her. Not perfume, but clean soap and under that a scent that is only her. I let my lips brush her neck just below her ear. She gasps lightly as I pull back, then she bites her lip, which only makes her all the more delicious. Then she does something that almost sends me over the edge. She leans forward and snuggles her head into my shoulder. Fuck, I want her so badly and I don’t care how insane the thought is anymore. I was crazy to think I could not succumb to her when every man she’s ever met has not been able to. Her body rubs against mine as I spin her round slowly, sensually. The shawl has come away from the broach and has fallen lower, showing off more of those gorgeous tits of hers. The restraint I’m showing by not licking the top curve of them over the top of her dress is astounding.

“You saved me,” she whispers, almost making me cum in my pants. She’s a fool if she thinks I’m saving her. At the moment, she’s in a lot more danger with me than she ever was with that odious old perv. He would have groped her and stopped. I plan on claiming her and making her mine. Fuck what I told myself. Letterman made me realize that I don’t want every other man thinking he can lay claim to her. I want her and I’m going to have her. Lucinda Waldgrave. All mine. Just the thought alone has me imagining the feel of her pussy. My cock is straining by the time the music segues into another piece.

I pull her hands from my neck and grab one before she has a chance to run away. “We’re going.”

This time she doesn’t argue, but follows me through the crowd. Everyone is watching us and I don’t give a shit. Let them. I shouldn’t have told people she was my cousin, but I wasn’t expecting to even speak to her tonight, let alone do the things I plan to do. To think I’d planned to let her sit at the side while I talked business. My head is in a dark place as I wait for the valet to bring the Merc around to the front. If anyone asks on Monday, I’ll say she wasn’t feeling well. I’ll pass her resting against me as a headache. I still don’t know why she chose to cuddle up against me. Maybe it was because she was afraid to trip, but she didn’t seem to have that problem when she was dancing with Letterman. In fact, she was dancing as far away as his short pudgy arms would allow. No, there was another reason for it. One I really fucking want to explore.

The valet parks right in front of us. “Get in,” I urge, more forcefully than I planned. She’s silent the whole drive home. When I sneak a look at her, her eyes are closed and I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. She only had two glasses of champagne, but they seemed to affect her more than they would most people. Especially people like Lucinda who probably pour champagne on their cornflakes.

Just having her in the passenger seat while I’m driving is distraction enough. She moans slightly, and it nearly sends me over the edge. All kinds of filthy thoughts run through my mind as I navigate the late night Manhattan traffic. I never thought I’d want Lucinda Waldgrave. The whore of the elite, the desire of the common man. I was above such desires, not needing an image in a magazine or on a screen to get off, but now she’s sitting next to me, flesh and blood. I finally understand the appeal and I want her. I want to do things to make her forget the other men she’s been with. Forget Nix. He gave up on her. I want all of her. I’m salivating over the thought of tasting her.

I don’t want her asleep, nor do I want her inebriated. I want her to be completely aware of everything I’m going to do to her. By the time I screech into the apartment block’s underground parking lot, my cock is aching from pressing up against the inside of my pants. Driving home with such a distraction was downright dangerous, but the only danger in the air now is what I’m going to do to Lucinda. Sin. That’s what Nix calls her, but right now she looks the very opposite. Even with the strange haircut Mercier gave her, she still looks like a fucking innocent angel. I let out a low breath. It’s this and this alone that stops me from taking her right here in this parking lot. She might have fucked half the men in Manhattan, but the way she holds herself says otherwise. Even with unseeing eyes, there’s fear in them. She’s not the whore the newspapers paint her as. I run my hands through my hair, pausing just a moment to decide what to do. I can’t rush this. She’s worth so much more than a quick fumble in the front of a car. I make to open the door, but she stops me with one hand to my arm.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply, knowing she’s talking about me saving her from Letterman. She should be thanking me for saving her from me. She has no idea how close she is to me taking her right here. Lucinda Waldgrave, the woman that’s fucked everyone, and I’m letting her go... For now. It will be a different story once we are upstairs. “Get out,” I snap, pulling the handle to open my door. She grabs my arm where she was resting her hand. With one quick motion, she leans across and kisses my cheek, using her other hand as a guide.

The blood thickens in my veins and my cock hardens and strains more. I grab her wrist, anger and desire mingling together as I take in the angelic face, fear, but curiosity in her eyes that are looking right at me as though she can almost see me.

She might be angelic, but I’m no angel. And she’s started something that I’m going to make her finish.

28

LUCINDA

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