“Not that I’m not impressed, but what happened to dinner?” he asks, and I can hear a hint of irritation.
“My father had a welcome home party. I’ve been schmoozing and looking like-”
I don’t get to finish as Zane interjects, “A hot piece of ass?”
I laugh and move further into the apartment. I place my clutch onto the nearest surface and stand there, placing my hands on my hips. I feel sensuality swirl around me, latching onto me as I stand before Zane feeling like a goddess.
I tilt my head to side, feeling ready to play this onwards. “How about you show me how hot I am.”
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise with that comment, and the small smirk that begins to curl at the corner of his mouth forces me to act impatient.
“What I have in mind will mean you have to trust me with that pearl necklace,” he speaks, still lounged back casually in the seat acting as if he is king. “Can you cope with that?”
“Depends what you’re planning,” I ponder. “If I’m going to beg for freedom and fight my way out of whatever then you aren’t getting near them.”
“Oh no,” he muses, before turning the television off and sitting forward to push the foot rest of the seat down. He places his beer down, kicks the bottom of the couch back and stands before me in nothing but sweats once again. “It’s more or less to stop you getting touchy feely and trying to take control.”
“Oh,” I manage, my interest piquing. “Well, I guess I could be attracted to learning more.”
“Good,” he responds, and I see a sanctimonious expression settle. “But first, I’d prefer you with less on.”
He walks over to me, takes my hand, and leads me more into the middle of the room. As I’m left standing, he moves around me, and I feel his knuckles on my back as he takes hold of the top of the zipper. Slowly, he pulls downwards, revealing my back and my bra clasp. When he hits the bottom, he releases it sending the dress into freefall. There’s enough room for it to slip over my hips and pool at my feet.
I now stand before Zane in sheer black panties and a plain, silk strapless black bra with my pearls as my only accessory. I feel a light breeze overcome me as my skin begins to prickle, and I wonder where the sudden feeling of tenterhooks has come from. As I feel him walk around me, I look out of my peripheral to see where he is and watch as he circles me, scrutinizing me. The vulnerability this forces over me is unlike anything I have ever felt before, but the thrill begins a riot of butterflies in my stomach. Each one dances against my ribcage, each striking their own chord of almost lyrical anticipation as I await my fate. Their wings batter against me, sending waves of heated keenness, beating me with eagerness and they only seem to calm once Zane is standing before me.
Reaching up, his hand grazes across my jawline gently, and my eyes close as I instinctively lean against his palm. Even as it courses so, his fingers thread themselves up into my hair. The intimacy is garnering momentum, my body is becoming more alive with every passing minute on the clock, and I slowly open my eyes to look at him. Suspended in this heated rush of emotions, this building sense of sexual craving with this inner plead of salvation from yearning, Zane keeps the moment punctuated with glorious drips of expectancy. Slowly, he moves his hand down the curve of my neck, only stopping when he’s touching the necklace and now I see what he’s been waiting to show me – rapt intent. He’s preparing something wonderfully torturous, and I know I’m not going to be ready for what will come.
I lift my head slightly, seized by his intimate approach, and feel my pearls begin to move. Zane starts to unhook them from my neck by passing them over my head, making one long line of pearl glory. Soon, I feel extremely naked now that my neck and chest are becoming bare, and my eagerness falters and transforms into nervousness.
When he’s gotten me free of them, he moves away again, this time to my back, and I await his next move. His hands touch my mine, bringing them back and gently placing my fingers to interlink. Forcing my hands together in unison, Zane loops the first line over my hand and begins to gently hook and loop them around my wrists, at times making it tighter in places than others. This is not total surrender; this is just for him to prove a point that he can run the show.
When it stops, I feel him take a step back, and I’m well aware of my newfound susceptibility to his will. He can command and conquer, and he knows I’ll take it because the fear of breaking this necklace will have me cautious. What a fucking bastard! He knows my weakest points, and I walked straight into this.