I dress quickly in the elevator before calling down to the security office to tell them to delete the video footage of me walking nude from the penthouse. I wouldn't want my impromptu attempt—to shock the hell out of Johnathan's confidence—to cause a phenomenon of exhibitionism in the halls of the Barron Hotel.
When I get off the phone, my body collapses against the wall of the descending rectangular box, waiting for my heart to steady. My breath expels and retreats at a rapid pace while my skeleton trembles from the heat traveling through my body. My flesh is blazing from a fire of emotions that have chemically ignited inside me...threatening combustion.
My inferno of anxiety has two defined sources. First, I'm furious to learned that Ernest House had the audacity to keep my mother's estate—after he kicked us out—and is now using it as a vacation home for his family; making a mockery of my mother's struggles...her heartbreak...and her death. When Johnathan revealed this to me over dinner, the truth about what his family did to mine, almost came tumbling out in a holocaust of intensity. Which would have promised maximum devastation killing this deal altogether and my chances of getting the Barron back.
But thank God I managed to pull myself together long enough to proposed a way to get the estate back...which leads to the second source of agitation. The kiss we shared.
My fingers crawl up to my quivering lips in remembrance of the way Johnathan's lips felt against mine as an unexpected twinge of desire pinches my heart. The searing memory of me grinding against his hard cock while his tongue possessively claimed me, pulls a moan from the depths of my throat. The ache between my thighs beats rhythmically against my clit in testimony of the passion Johnathan's smooch dragged from me.
"Oh God...I can't feel this way..." I moan.
But my legs separate in mutiny. In search of some relief. My fingers slides from my lips...down my throat...to my hard nipples...my stomach...until they glide to the hem of my dress. Pulling the red material of my minidress to my waist so my fingers can give my pulsating clit what it needs.
As soon as my middle finger brushes my swollen nub, my body twist on the wall of the elevator like crumbled paper slowly unraveling. My whimpers boomerang off the glass and marble interior, creating a crescendo of desire that whispers to me...commands me..to open my legs wider. In obedience, my legs yawn open, allowing the tips of my fingers to circle my clit unrestricted; while my mind envisions Johnathan's fingers fondling me instead of my own.
My teeth possessively grabs my bottom lip while my eyes roll to the back of my head in satisfaction. Thoughts of his intense, brooding eyes undressing me, and that damn mischievous grin mocking me, squeezes my hard nipples, almost like his teeth are possessively gripping them. The thought of his tongue teasing my nipples, makes my fingers stroke my clit faster and faster while my hips push into the friction, almost losing control.
"What the hell are you doing Huntley..." I breath out in scrutiny before sliding my fingers away. My urgency...my need....the heat... are all residual effects of that damn kiss. And it's dangerous.
My body slides to the floor of the elevator to a seated position just thinking about it. The kiss was so breathtakingly consuming, that for two painstakingly exhilarating minutes...
I couldn't move.
I couldn't think.
I couldn't even breathe.
All I could do was feel.
My pulse quickened with his touch. It was like his hands were familiar with all my secrets and fantasies. His knowing grazes sent me through a weird kind of haze, an unexpected obscurity I'm now craving. A passion I've never experienced before. And his smell...it was a heady scent of cinnamon and earth mixed with a shot of expensive cologne; acting as an aphrodisiac that silently testified to how he takes care of himself. And how he might take care of me. It was almost enough to push me over the edge...Enough to make me forget why I was there.
"Pull it together Huntley," I whisper in the air, as my mind wrestles with how to reconcile these feelings. Because no matter how much my body wants to trust this warmth I'm experiencing, my mother taught me better:
Never give my heart to a billionaire.
Never loose my identity.
Never be just seen...always be heard.
Never be controlled.
Never sleep with Johnathan House.
The sentiment about Johnathan was added to this list the moment his lips touched mine. And I suspect this hymn will be a recurring anthem on my mind's playlist...Especially after I move in with him tomorrow. My self control will truly be challenged by the electricity that seems to be constantly pulling us together. I feel it every time I'm near him.
"You should have never kissed him." I berate myself, before standing to my feet. All I was suppose to do tonight was plant seeds of intrigue and seduction. Just enough to rope him in so my plan—to get him to fall in love with me—would work. And it was going well until I discovered his dad was
using my mother's estate as a goddamn summer home; that's when I totally went off script. I was willing to do anything to get our estate back from his family.
So I bartered with the only thing I knew might get him to sign it over to me...his attraction for me. Now, that I know it's substantial, I can use it against him. Make him so desperate for me that he would do anything for me. The only problem is, the more I try getting him hot for me, the harder it becomes not to become absorbed by him. My plan is good in theory; and it will work... if I can just keep my damn emotions out of it.