She takes a deep breath and bends her knees, swaying her body as she dips down. “I can dance, you know. I’m not a complete social moron.”
A smile creeps up my face as she does her little wiggle move. Her mouth is so close to my dick, I might explode. “It’s not bad,” I say playfully. “But you need to practice.”
“Hmmm,” she says, standing back up. Her hands are in her hair now, and she rips out the little ponytail holder, letting her long brown locks spill over her shoulders. “See,” she says with a smile that reaches all the way up to her eyes. “I can seduce you.”
“You sure the fuck can,” I mumble.
“But you’re horny and shit, Fletcher. You live for sex. Cole is…”
“Boring? Blind? Gay? Maybe he’s more interested in Claudio?”
“Oh, God.” Tiffy bursts out laughing. “Claudio wouldn’t sleep with Cole if he was the last man on earth. He thinks Cole’s pudgy. Besides, he’s sort of in lust with Steve.”
“My Steve?” I laugh. My cock starts to calm down with the fun conversation. “They’d make a good couple, actually. Maybe I should set the two of them up instead. Keep you for myself?”
She laughs a little more, but her arms are still swaying above her head and she does another little dip before standing back up and turning her back to me. She peeks over her shoulder like a flirting professional, batting her eyelashes, a move that never works on anyone—except me, right here, right now—and says, “I’m not your type, Fletcher. I’m serious and conservative. And you’re not.”
She turns her head, and I have to look in the hotel window to see the reflection of her face. Her eyes are closed now. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I should let you teach me how to seduce him with a lap dance.”
And then she stops and walks over to the dining table and pulls out a chair, facing it towards me. “Here. Sit. Let me at least try.”
I’m suddenly without words. But my feet know when to accept an invitation that my brain has a hard time coming to terms with. So two seconds later I’m walking to that chair. “Your move, Miss Preston.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fletcher is easy. He’s always looking for a fuck. Cole is not.
Fletcher is a professional seducer. Cole is a professional… well, professional.
So maybe Fletch is right? I need to make Cole want me. I need to make him desire me. I need to seduce him. And I think I can do the dancing. I’m not inept at that. I’ve been clubbing with Claudio enough to have those moves down.
I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl. But I had that with Fletcher. I was witness to one of the best flirts in the business as he tried to seduce me. So all I really have to do is be the Tiffy Preston version of Fletcher Novak, right?
But if I think about who I’m practicing on too hard, then I’ll lose my nerve. So when Fletch gets to the chair, I push him into a sitting position.
“What?” Fletcher laughs.
“Shhh,” I say, laying a single fingertip across his lips. “Don’t talk or you’ll scare me off.”
His mouth drops open but he stays silent.
I think back to the rock earlier today. How he was moving his body in front of my face. Demanding my attention. I take a step forward and straddle his legs. The sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs brushes up against his soft sweat shorts, and a shiver runs up my legs—straight through my core.
Just the thought of my panties rubbing against his hard cock is enough to start the throbbing. So I bend my knees a little and lower myself down. Just enough to brush my pussy over the open air between his legs.
I reach for his hair and when I brush the tips of my fingers against his scalp, he lets out a small, “Fuck.”
“Like this, Fletch?”
He nods. His eyes are trained on mine. I have his complete attention. “Yeah,” he whispers, and swallows hard. “That’s pretty good, Tiffy.”
I ease forward, my hips swaying back and forth just above the waistband of his shorts, my legs pressing hard against his. And then I ease down into his lap.
I like this, I realize. I like him. It’s dangerous, I know that. But I can’t stop now. Not even if I wanted to, and I don’t.
The moment my clit feels his cock, I let out a breath of desire. Will he fuck me again if I go too far? Or will he stop himself and obey his own rules? Should I try for it? Should I try to make Fletcher Novak want me?
But his hands on my ass again blow away my thoughts. He’s playing along. He rubs the muscles under my dress, and then a moment later they’re underneath. Caressing that tender spot between my upper thighs.
I want him to take it further. I want him to want me. But I don’t know what to do next. So I hear myself ask, “Now what?”
“Now,” he growls, “you close the deal.”
“How?” I whisper, leaning into his neck like he did earlier.
He grabs the hem of my dress and lifts it up, exposing my thighs and rubbing them all at the same time. “Take this off.”
Jesus. If I do that I have a feeling we might not stop. I know he’s a one-night guy and we had that already. But what if I succeed at this seduction thing?
“Do it, Tiffy. Stand up and take the fucking dress off. You make him crazy, just like I make those girls crazy on stage.”
A striptease, I realize. He wants me to do a striptease. “I don’t know—”
But he stands up and pushes me back. “Take the dress off.” He sits back down on the chair and leans back, spreading his legs slightly and getting comfortable. Like he’s ready to enjoy a show he typically gives instead of gets.
I’m suddenly flushed with embarrassment. I just know my face is turning red. But I want to do this. I want to learn how to make a man crazy with lust. I want to make Fletcher feel that insane, overpowering want he made me feel last week on the roof. The kind of want that drives men mad. The kind of lust that makes a man throw away all caution, and inhibitions, and rational thought. The kind of desire that has him screaming in his head, Fuck the consequences. I want him to crave me so bad, he can’t say no. I want that power, and I want it bad. “Where do I start?”
“Tease me,” Fletcher says. “With your dress. Lift it up, give me a peek, and then drop it again.”
I blink a few times. But the power is within my reach. I can feel it. I might not be a sex witch, but Fletcher Novak is about to be under my spell. So I grab the thin fabric and start rubbing it up and down my thighs. He lets out a breath, watching my fingertips as they do a dance with the dress.
He scoots forward in his chair and wraps the warm palms of his hands behind my knees.
I am immediately wet. I can feel it pooling in my lacy underwear.
He rubs small circles against the sensitive skin on the back of my legs and it feels so good, I lift the dress up and show him my panties.
“Fuck,” he mutters again.
I let the dress fall, and then lift it again. My body starts moving now, the way he does when he’s performing. I close my eyes and enjoy the beat of the music in the background.
“Take it off, Tiffy. And make it sexy.”
“How?” I say, opening my eyes so I can stare at the desire in his face.
“Slow,” he says, gripping me harder and pulling me towards him.
I bite my lip and think about all the ways I can make this more seductive. I turn, making his hands drag across my thighs until my back is to him. He starts rubbing my upper thighs, inching higher and higher as I continue to sway.
I reach behind me and grab the zipper of my dress and drag it down a few inches. “Pull it down for me, Fletcher.”
His hands take advantage of every opportunity on their way up my back. He caresses my hips, presses the pads of his thumbs into the muscles on each side of my spine, and then reaches around as they travel upward, brushing against my nipples, turning them into tiny peaks.