I stand in the apartment, completely disorientated as he makes us drinks; silent and calm like we’re just up here to have our usual chat and arguments, and yet I am completely on edge and cannot relax. He seems normal, unfazed, unaffected, and he hasn’t made any moves to touch me since we got in the lift.
It’s weird, unnerving and I shouldn’t be like this. I’m not a virgin or an amateur. Sex is part of what I do or used to. I taught myself how to overcome all the shit that surrounded it emotionally and learned the art of making it feel good instead. Finding the pleasure in it and getting off instead of the trauma of my past. I separated the memories and the act and used sex as a tool to get ahead in life. It got me here to America for a fresh start and I have never looked back.
I like sex, I crave it and I have had it on my own terms many times. I have no reason to feel sick with nerves at the thought of sleeping with him, I have slept with hundreds of men in my lifetime and this won’t be any different. I just need to separate in my head who I have built him up to be and look at him as any other hot-blooded male. A gorgeous specimen who makes me wet and is built like a guy who should have a sizeable package and the skill to use it.
I jump when his fingers trail my arm from behind so softly that it sends warm shivers through every part of me and I realise in a flash of nerves that I am completely at a loss with him. I am always the seducer, the one in control and making the moves. Sex is always down to my own devices or needs and I target what I want and go after it.
It’s not the case here, far from it. I have no angle to work with by sleeping with him and in fact, I think I’ll lose an edge if I do, yet I can’t stop myself from wanting it. He has flipped the tables by being the one in control. My seductions failed.
He’s powerful, dangerous and makes me want to see what it could be like even if he does put the fear of God into me at every turn. His coldness and composure make me want it more than anything and this is completely new to me. A man who didn’t fall over themselves to get me naked.
‘’Take your dress off.’’ He leans in, whispering into my ear from beside me and I just erupt in goosebumps, sensitive to everything that’s him and unable to hold my calm and confident persona. I lose the ability to talk and just unbutton the front of my Gucci dress until I get it to waist level, sliding it down from my shoulders obediently, like some dumb mute bimbo. Letting it fall to pool around my ankles submissively, before kicking it away. I am left standing in my favourite navy Victoria secret lingerie set in transparent lace and shiver when his breath fans the back of my shoulders and ignites a sense of complete longing. I’m aware of him hovering to the right of me, almost behind me but not enough to make me scared. I have a thing about being approached right from the back and the touch of anxiety peeking around my head could just be that.
‘‘Maybe we shouldn’t,’’ I whisper softly, getting that niggle of doubt once again; being taken over by his air all over me and completely losing my courage. I am afraid that letting him possess me will change more than the dynamics between us. I can’t explain it, it's like I’m standing on a precipice and doing this will be like stepping off a cliff. I have no idea what this feeling is other than complete doubt and apprehension. I put it down to fear from the scene with Gino earlier and give myself a mental shake for my cowardice.
‘‘Losing your courage, London?’’ Alexi’s deep husky voice gives me tingles. I shiver as hot firm fingers trace my spine from the edge of my knickers, up my naked back to my neck, and close my eyes as the sensations overtake me. No man has ever ignited my body with just a simple touch and now I know for sure how stupid this is …. He influences me, some power I do not understand, and I should take my dress and walk the fuck away, yet I’m glued to the spot and my body won’t listen.