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Then, as if seeking to put distance between us, he saunters to the couch and removes his blazer as he sits down. My teeth tug over my bottom lip as I watch him loosen his tie.
I realize I want to undress too. I want him to see my lacy undergarments beneath.
I walk closer to him and stumble on my light-blue heels, but he catches me, holding me by the waist as I stand between his legs.
I grab the zipper of my dress, but when I get to the point where I can’t reach, I sit on his lap, waiting on cue for him to zip it all the way down.
His hand traces over my back, bringing down the zipper so slowly I feel like forever has passed. My breath catches in mythroat when he’s done, and he pushes off the sleeves of the dress from my shoulders with both hands.
I angle myself sideways on his lap, eager to see his reaction when I slip my arms out of the dress, letting the material fall.
I love when I see the bulge of his Adam’s apple. I love how his eyes darken instantly when they fall to my breasts in my light-pink bra. I love how no words are needed between us.
“What happened to cotton, hmm, Gemma?” His raspy voice fills the room, and my stomach flutters with anticipation. He tugs the dress down my hips, then cups my ass underneath to remove it. When the dress reaches my ankles, I toss it on the carpet.
“You don’t like my new lingerie?”
He pushes my hair behind my ear, then softly traces my cheek before pressing a kiss over it. I close my eyes and bask in the sensation that ignites inside me. I’m so, so happy to be back in his arms. So much so I’m emotional thinking about it.
“I do. But I miss the cotton. Don’t change who you are for me.”
Did I do it for Damon?
I won’t lie—I loved seeing the look on his face when he saw me in my first set. But he also had the same look the first time he saw me in Calvin Klein cotton underwear. He never discriminated against my choice in lingerie.
I won’t deny the boost of confidence it gives me to wear satin and lace. Couple that with the classy work outfits I’ve been wearing, and I know I can take on a man like the one staring at me.
“You’re very beautiful,” he whispers close to my ear. My nipples perk up in response, and I seek relief. “But I won’t fuck you tonight.” He thumbs the front of my neck, urging me to swallow.
“I know,” I almost pant.
He cocks his head. “You know?”
As I nod, I stare at his beautiful lips, then his eyes. “Even though you like to pretend otherwise, you’re a good man. You won’t fuck me if you think I’m drunk.”
An ice-cold chuckle fills the room as he pulls down one strap of my bra, then situates my tit over the cup.
He eyes my nipple piercing with awe, as he always does, then seems to remember my comment. “Are you using reverse psychology?”
“No, unless you want to do naughty things to me.”
He curses. “Naughty things ... like what?”
His breath against my neck sends shivers down my spine. I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m tipsy and warm and cold, and I’m losing my mind around him.
I shrug in answer to his question, folding my fingers behind his neck. “Depends. What do you want, Damon?”
A shake of the head is all I get in response until he pinches my nipple and covers my breast again with my bra. “Go put a shirt on.”
I eye him for a second longer before I reluctantly go grab a shirt to cover myself.
I sit on the couch next to him, my throat dehydrated. I’m swooning, my cheeks warming when he scoops me up, and I land on his lap with his arms tight around me.
He smells so good. And he looks even better.
So dashing. So fucking hot.
My head nestles in the crook of his neck as I breathe him in. The Damon Dreygon scent—it’s addictive.
