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With a renewed sense of purpose, mainly to knock Griffin’s socks off, or any other loose clothing items, I march toward the wall by the door and press the black button.
It takes me a few beats to recognize the song as “Maneater”by Nelly Furtado. It’s not the song we practiced to but there’s no way I’m going to call Lydia in here to fix it.
As I make my way back over to Griffin, my limbs feel warm and tingly, the scotch having already made its way into my bloodstream.
Griffin watches my every move. Because he’s entranced by my presence or because he’s concerned he’ll need to catch me, I’m not certain. His hands rest next to his hips and when he sees me approach, he spreads his long legs wider, creating a space for me.
My body feels looser from the scotch, but my brain is struggling to remember the moves I practiced.
Get low. That’s what Lydia preached. It’s all about the legs and ass and hips.
With as much confidence as I can muster given the situation, I place my hands just above his knees and do my best to lower myself seductively between his legs, before coming back up.
The material of his pants is soft, in contrast to the hardness of the muscular legs they are concealing. My heart is racing. I hope he can’t feel how sweaty my palms are through the material of his pants. Being this close to him gives me a head rush, and I nearly stumble on my heels and go face first into his crotch. Thinking back to the club in Vegas, it wouldn’t be the first time.
My first move is a little jerky and I have to stifle a giggle at how ridiculous I feel. When I’m upright again, I shake out my hands and give myself a mental pep talk. I can do this. Think sexy. Don’t be awkward.
I tell myself to focus and try again. I lower down again, this time sliding my hands up Griffin’s thighs as I drop. Beneath his slacks, I can feel his thigh muscles flex under my hands. I slowly pull back and lift up. Once I’m upright again, I roll my hips to the music and run my hands through my hair, gathering it off my neck. That was another tip from Lydia, your hair is a tool, use it.
I repeat this movement a few times, gaining confidence as I get more comfortable.
Griffin’s eyes never leave mine. He watches every movement. His eyes are narrowed, his lips slightly parted, like he’s really focused. I dance and sway until my back is to him, then perform the same slow lowering maneuver I did before. This time with my back to his front, arching my back so I can extend my ass toward him, just like Lydia taught me. With my hands on his knees, I lower until I can feel his thighs just under my ass. I arch my back and grind into him, circling my hips. His belt buckle digs into my lower back, a sharp reminder of how close my body is to his. It only makes me want to press further into him. I’m so turned on right now, the dance is becoming less about seducing Griffin and more about how I can rub my body against his to get some friction where friction is desperately needed.
My thighs are getting a killer workout. One they have not been conditioned for, and I can feel my muscles starting to quiver. For a minute, I let my weight rest on Griffin’s lap. My back is flush against his chest, and I can feel his warm breath against my hair, the heat of his body against my back. It’s the same position we were in yesterday during the photoshoot. I continue to rotate my hips, grinding into his lap, as I reach my hands up behind his neck and snake my fingers into his hair. Then I tug.
Griffin’s response is a growl and a press of his hips up into my ass. In this position, I can feel his hard length rubbing into me.
“Do you like teasing me with your sweet little ass?” His lips are right next to my ear.
I respond by grinding my ass down into his erection. His words make me feel sexy, and desirable. Somewhere along the way, instinct has taken over, or maybe it’s the scotch, but I find myself letting go.
Griffin’s hands are resting at his sides. I want to get closer. Put my hands all over him. And feel his hands on me. I’m desperate for him to touch me.
I lift up and turn to face him again. Moving closer, I slide my left knee between his legs, and place my hands on the back of the sofa, on either side of his head. I lean in close, letting my breasts press into his chest as I move. Our lips are inches apart. His emerald eyes appear almost black now. He would only need to lean forward an inch and our lips would meet. We’re so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. There’s a hint of scotch but mostly I’m surrounded by his familiar manly scent. Griffin still doesn’t make a move. My eyes lower to stare at his lips. They’re full and soft, a stark contrast to the surrounding skin sporting a two-day beard.
With one leg on the sofa, I’m feeling a bit off balanced. I think Griffin can tell because he brings his legs closer together, so I can straddle him. As my dress inches up my thighs, I’m highly aware of the fact that I have no underwear on. And that this lap dance has done nothing to soothe the ache between my thighs. My dress isn’t obscenely short, so there’s still plenty of material covering me, but the shameless urge to flex my hips and grind my pelvis onto Griffin’s crotch is overwhelming.
My hands slide over his shoulders, and behind his neck, finally making contact with his skin. It’s smooth and warm, and I have the desire to bury my face there.
A moment later, the song fades out, and the only sound in the room is our heavy breathing.
I’m overcome with a surge of pride. I did it! Now I’m not sure what to do. Take a victory lap? Ask Griffin to take off his pants?
I’m contemplating my options when Griffin slides a large hand behind my neck and presses his lips to mine.
CHAPTER25
Griffin
With Emma in my arms, I feel like I can breathe again. I hold her to me, devouring her mouth. Letting myself have this moment of unrestraint where I don’t question what I should be doing, and give into what I want.
It’s our night together in Vegas all over again, yet unmatched by the fact that knowing Emma, if only for two weeks, has made me even more attracted to her. My desire to be near her, protect her, hear her every waking thought is so potent, it makes me weak.
“That was incredible,” I tell her, stroking her thigh while I kiss her jaw.
I capture her lips again, letting my hands explore under her dress. I knead her ass, loving the feeling of her smooth skin beneath my palms. My fingers move up along her lower back. And that’s when I realize something is missing. I pull back.
“No underwear?”
