Authors: Sophie Holloway
ack was more
comfortable in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel than almost anywhere else in the city. The staff knew him by name, and the service was always top notch. He had made some of his best deals over martinis at the bar, and the air there always seemed charged with the spark of winning.
When he’d texted Eva, it seemed only natural to suggest they meet there. Eva was raised in luxury, and a woman with her standards deserved nothing less.
But now, fielding the constant stream of “Good evening, Mr. Bennett”s from the staff as they curiously eyed him for being tie-less for the first time in years, he felt oddly out of place. He checked his Rolex, wondering what was taking her so long, surprised when he realized it was only 5:55.
He was early.
Laughing at himself, he had just made the decision to get a scotch at the bar and cool his heels when a voice called to him. He stood and turned to see Eva striding toward him, looking as surprised as he felt.
“You’re here,” she said, her face flushed. “Hi.”
His breath caught as she moved closer, so close that he could see straight down the V of her black dress. Her breasts were overflowing the neckline, nearly exposed. It was a fucking lethal dress. No wonder most of the men in the lobby couldn’t stop staring.
“I said six, didn’t I?” he muttered, feeling off his game.
“I know, but you’re on time.
in fact,” she said. “Is this a first for you when it comes to a date-like scenario?”
“I suppose it is.” He cleared his throat, then lied: “I had some business to attend to earlier in the bar and figured I might as well stick around.”
She reached up flirtatiously and touched the skin between his open collar. “With no tie? I haven’t seen you without a tie since…” Her fingers trailed up his neck. “Well, never.”
What’s gotten into her?
But then she started giggling, and he caught a whiff of her olives and sea salt breath and guessed it was a martini or three to blame for her sudden assertiveness.
he told himself.
You’re the teacher.
He took her hand from his collar and held it tight. “Had a few cocktails, have we?” he said pleasantly, leading her toward the elevators.
She danced on her toes, wobbling a little but obviously feeling no pain. “I had to. Thinking about that monster in your pants drove me to drink.”
Jack looked sharply around.
She laughed harder. “It’s true. And then I swear someone was following me when I was leaving the bar. It was weird.”
Jack’s brows knitted. “Someone followed you?”
She waved a hand. “No, I’m just getting paranoia-ed. Paranoid,” she corrected with a hiccup. The elevator dinged, and he led her inside before pressing the button for the top floor.
She blinked. “Oh, did you get a room?”
“I was contemplating a few drinks at the Oak Bar first,” he said dryly, making a mental note to quiz her more about her alleged paranoia when she was sober—he wanted to make sure she was safe. “But that’s probably not a good idea. I like my dates to be conscious.”
The smile vanished from her face. “Oh. Okay.”
“I wanted to thank you again,” he said. “For what you did in the board room. Your point of view was meaningful.”
“Good.” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “All I said was the truth.”
He looked at her, surprised. He hadn’t been sure how much of her speech to the board was part of the deal, and how much she actually believed. “Is that so?”
“Of course,” she said curtly, staring up at the numbers climbing over the door as if she’d rather be discussing anything else. She’d always seemed bored whenever her family would go into their business discussions, excusing herself while they talked real estate. He’d already started to change the subject when she clucked her tongue. “Jack. That meeting was ridiculous. There’s no question about it. You deserve to be on top.”
Her confidence in him filled him with sudden lust. “What if I’d rather
be on top, instead?” He winked, savoring the way her cheeks flushed as he spoke. He took her hand and drew her body toward his. “I am the teacher, after all. You’ll have to do as I say, or you’ll be punished.”
She didn’t laugh. She trembled a little in his arms, and her voice was all but a whisper. “All right.”
He studied her, threading his warm fingers through her cooler ones. She couldn’t be having cold feet about this arrangement—not now, when he was one hundred percent in and desperate to discover every inch of the beautiful body beneath her wicked little dress. “You’re really nervous about this?”
“Not at all,” she insisted, her eyes darting from his.
Something new flickered inside him. Most women, by now, would be all over him. He was the king of elevator sex, after all. For a split second he felt the urge to protect Eva from men like himself, to take her hand in his and promise he would never hurt her, but he shook that inclination away.
No, she was still his innocent Eva, but she wanted an education in fucking, not hand-holding.
As the elevator ascended, he drew her mouth toward his, urging the wild Eva he’d met Sunday night to come out and play. The alcohol was definitely doing the trick. After only a moment, she returned the kiss with hungry abandon, her arms wrapping around his neck as she boldly drew him closer. She pressed against him and moaned softly, clearly wanting more, much more. He ran his hands up the sculpted curve of her bare back, to the silken tie around her neck, his fingers fondling the fabric, relishing the thought of letting it loose, putting her perfect tits on full display.
“What are you teaching me tonight, Mr. Bennett?” she murmured as his mouth roamed over her jaw, finding the flesh of her earlobe. She was wearing little diamond earrings.
He took the entire lobe into his mouth, tasting the warmth of her perfumed skin melding with the cold stone of the gem. He could feel her hanging on his answer, so he decided to make her wait a little longer. When the elevator doors parted, he led her down the hall to the suite, opened the door, and flipped on the lights, allowing her to enter before him.
She stepped inside and tossed her clutch on the settee before wandering across the room to set her phone on the bedside table. Veering back toward the center of the luxurious space again, she looked back at him for reassurance. “So…” she muttered awkwardly, clapping her hands, a
what do we do now?
tone in her voice.
He tipped his chin toward the table, where a bottle of Dom was chilling in an ice bucket. “I’d thought you might need something to help you relax before this next lesson. But it appears you’ve taken care of that on your own.”
She raised her eyebrows and licked her lips. “Now I’m worried. Is being sloshed a requirement for what you have planned?”
He took her hand and brought her toe-to-toe with him. She gazed up at him, eyes wide and alert. The alcohol hadn’t deadened her senses, which was a very good thing. If she were truly drunk, he would have had to call a time out and he really didn’t want to spend another night alone, wishing she were in his arms. “I thought you trusted me?”
“I do, but—“
He put a finger on her lips. Then he strode to the table, opened the champagne, and poured himself a glass, deliberately taking his time with every movement.
He drew the blinds closed. She watched him, clearly on edge. He could nearly hear her heart beating, swift and eager, from across the room, and he relished it.
“I believe you told me,” he announced, “that you wanted to learn how to drive a man wild.”
He reached for the desk chair, pulled it out, and pointed it in her direction. He sat down, took a sip of champagne, and placed the flute on the desk. When he looked at her next, she was standing there in her fuck-me heels and painted-on dress, but fidgeting like that little girl who used to follow him and Antonio around.
He’d never seen anything sexier in his life.
“Is that what this lesson is about?” she asked, unsure.
“Quiet. Do as you’re told. Come here,” he ordered, leaning against the backrest and getting comfortable in the chair.
Visibly shivering, she started to totter over to him in those ridiculous heels.
He held up a finger. “No. Slower. Shoulders back, take your time. Own the room.”
She stopped. Her face flushed as she drew her lower lip between her teeth. Fuck, that was even hotter. She took a step. Then another. She moved slowly, deliberately toward him, cat-like and graceful now that she’d shifted her focus. “Like this?”
He nodded, satisfied, and motioned to her head. “Your hair. I want it down.”
She stopped, wobbling a little, then reached behind her head.
“No, Eva,” he demanded. “
She seemed confused by his command.
His voice was firm, but soft. “Eva. From now on, I want you to take twice as long with everything I tell you to do.
Every. Little. Thing.
No matter how small or inconsequential it may seem. Count in your head if you must. One...two...If something takes you five seconds normally, it should take you ten. Fifteen. Twenty would be even better. Do you understand?”
She blinked. Then understanding filled her eyes, the understanding that these were the lessons she’d asked for. He began to reach for his champagne flute but was caught off guard when she dipped her chin, and, at a maddeningly calculating and deliberate pace, freed her hair. Dark tendrils fell in a waterfall, bit by bit at first, and then all at once, her hair splashed wildly over her shoulders, partially veiling her face.
For a moment, time stood still as their eyes locked, and his mind went blank. He’d planned quite a lot, but it all seemed to float off into oblivion as he stared at Eva, fucking gorgeous Eva, standing there, waiting expectantly for his next command. His fingers reached out absently toward the desk, and he nearly knocked the champagne flute to the ground.
He wrapped his hand around the stem, brought it to his mouth, and took a deep, thirsty gulp, followed by a cleansing breath. “Have you ever stripped for a man, Eva?”
She shook her head quickly. “Is that what you want me to do?”
He exhaled. “Yes. And I am going to teach you how to do it to drive a man fucking wild.”
She seemed to run that through her head for a beat, two. Then, with painfully measured movement, she tilted her head to the side and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I feel silly,” she mumbled.
“I assure you, you look anything but silly. You’re stunning. Now untie your dress,” he said, gesturing to her neck, letting her know what he wanted her to do. “Slow and confident, you’re unveiling a priceless, precious work of art…”
She took a breath and continued. Her fingers crawled up the sides of that tight-tight dress, pausing at her tits, then snaking their way behind her neck. They lingered back there, until he was sure he’d go mad with anticipation. Finally, she loosened the tie, and pulled the pieces apart. Inch by inch, no, centimeter by centimeter—what an incredibly fast study she was—the fabric gave way, down down down, exposing more of her soft golden skin. He drew in a shaky breath, desperate to see those tits he’d only felt through too-thick fabric.
She had seamlessly crossed the line into goddess territory, and by the Mona Lisa smile on her face, he suspected she knew it. Slowly, she turned her back to him.
Maybe he’d taught her too well, because this was damn near excruciating. He’d found it amusing when she’d referred to his dick as the monster in his pants, but here he was, creating a monster of his very own, a woman who slayed him with every subtle shift of her hips.
“That’s right,” he murmured. “You’re doing it perfectly.”
Turning to look over her shoulder at him, she let the dress fall to her waist. She had an elegantly sculpted back, like that of a dancer—the kind men wrote poetry about. Innocence still flared in her eyes, making her all the more enticing. She had no idea how dangerous she was becoming. His cock twitched again, filling him with the urge to take her on the carpet, make her his that instant, but he clenched his fists.
Control. Take back the control.
He reached for his champagne flute, but it was empty. When the hell had he drained it?
Taking her sweet time, she lowered the dress down her waist, shimmying a little as she peeled it leisurely over her wide hips. When she let the fabric puddle at her heels, he couldn’t stop himself from reacting. He let out a groan. There Eva stood, in nothing but a black g-string, garter belt, nylons, and fuck-me heels. That ass was irresistible, full, round, and for a moment he thought she was just playing innocent for him. After all, where could angelic Eva have found such a devilish ensemble? How could she have been hiding this?
His cock wanted to call the shots now; his dick ached, throbbing painfully in his pants, demanding to be attended to. He leaned forward, toward the edge of his seat. His hands tightened over the arms of the chair.
He bit down hard to control each word, but they still came out in a growl. “
She tossed her dark hair to the side again—god, she had a lot of hair, wild hair, all wavy and messy, the way he liked it. She turned to him, finally giving him a view of her lush breasts. He put out a hand to stop her from coming any closer, and she obeyed, standing there with her legs slightly parted in heels and barely anything else, breathing in short, rapid breaths. It was those little breaths, those wide eyes, that told him she was still his Eva, though everything else about her had transformed.
His eyes roamed her from head to toe, and he had to fight a good fight to make sure that he did every part of her justice, that he took his time—his gaze lingering on every exquisite feature—just as she had taken her time for the strip tease. Her face—well, that had always been beautiful. She had dark eyes, shaped in such a way that she always looked like she had a little something up her sleeve, full lips that had been the color of candy from the day he first met her. Her limbs weren’t lanky anymore—her every feature was creamy and soft around the edges, like an Italian goddess statue. Her tits weren’t heavy, but full and perfectly curved, with pink nipples, already hard with excitement. There was a slope to her belly, a natural one, that suited her, and the small lace V that made up her panties was bordered on the underside by two of the most gorgeously shaped legs he’d ever seen.