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The blush-pink satin is so her, the crisscross fabric across the front suggestive and yet innocent at the same time. It’s a hint of what’s to come. A promise that if I’m very good, I can unhook the lingerie, let it fall to the floor, and admire her completely.
“When I saw that color, I knew it would look perfect against your skin. I knew it would make you feel so damn sensual. Does it, CJ? Does it make you feel beautiful? Alluring? Irresistible.”
She nods, her lips parting, a soft little murmur falling from them. “All of that.”
“Good. Because you are.” My gaze drops to the matching garters that hold her stockings in place, and I groan. “So fucking irresistible.” I motion to her hair. “Now your hair. I want it down.”
“You want it down,” she echoes, reaching both arms up to work the band from her hair, setting it free to fall in glossy waves around her shoulders. “You’re a bossy one, aren’t you?”
“I know what I want. And right now, I want you to untie the bow at the top of your corset,” I say, my voice low and coaxing, daring her to own the moment. “Slow and confident, like you’re unveiling a priceless, precious work of art.”
Her breath hitches, but she obeys, pulling at the silk ribbon, making my pulse spike as she loosens the bow and her breasts spill over the top of the plunging neckline. My first glance is enough to make my heart stop. Her breasts are each a perfect creamy handful, graced by a dusky pink nipple. I’m dying to get my mouth on her, but not yet.
Not yet. Slow. Easy.
If I go too far, too fast, I’ll scare her or hurt her, neither of which is an acceptable outcome.
Her hands cross above her chest as she whispers, “I’m embarrassed,” proving she’s misunderstood my silence.
“Oh no,” I insist, shaking my head. “No, no, don’t be. God, you’re beautiful. I was just lost in thought.”
“That can’t be a good sign, if I’m taking my clothes off and you’re lost in thought?”
“Thoughts about how much I want to get your nipples in my mouth,” I say, desire thick in my voice. “How much I want to taste you. Every inch of you. You’re driving me crazy, Butterfly, so please don’t stop. Show me more of you. Torture me, slow and sweet.”
Awareness flickers across her face, like the sun rising in the morning. Like the power of her sensuality is dawning on her at this moment. It’s intoxicating to witness. It’s a privilege to see her step into her sexual beauty.
“Torture . . .” she repeats.
“Exquisite torture,” I add.
With slow, deliberate flicks of her fingers, she draws the ribbon through one eyelet and then another, loosening the corset until the last bit of ribbon slides free and the silk boning falls to the floor at her high-heeled feet, leaving her in nothing but the lace garter belt, matching panties, and thigh-high stockings.
“Good?” she asks, running a finger beneath the waist of the garter belt.
“So good,” I murmur, my dick so hard there’s no way she hasn’t noticed the totem pole erected at the front of my pants. “Now the stockings.”
Inch by inch, no, centimeter by centimeter—what an incredibly fast study she is when it comes to driving me out of my mind—she rolls the stockings down her toned thighs to the knee, then to her ankle, exposing more of her soft skin. I pull in a shaky breath, desperate to feel every inch of her bare beneath me, writhing and calling my name as I glide in and out of her tight heat. She’s crossed the line into goddess territory, and by the Mona Lisa smile on her face as she slowly turns her back, peeking at me over her shoulder as she grants me another killer view, I suspect she knows it.
“How do you feel about stripping now?” I ask. “Now that you’ve driven me out of my mind with wanting you?”
“Pretty good,” she whispers with a nervous laugh. “But just FYI, I’m not going to be able to get the garter belt off in a sexy way. It’s designed so that I have to take it on and off over my head, and it tends to get stuck on certain . . . obstacles.”
I laugh too, partly because the sound of her laughing is infectious. Maybe also because it can be fun to laugh even when you’re burning with lust.
“Obstacles like your perfect tits?” My heart pounds as she wiggles out of the garter belt with her back to me, slaying me with every shift of her hips.
“You really think they’re perfect?” she asks, freeing herself and tossing the belt to the floor as I make a mental note to consult with my design team for a garter fix.
