Well, at least the boy was detail oriented, maybe perverted, but definitely detail oriented. “No, you go with Sam to go work, I think Kathy is preoccupied.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Well, Nelson and I are going to go work on a spreadsheet and samples and leave you to your meeting.”
Nelson got up. “Isn’t Kathy going to work on the spreadsheet?”
Kathy continued to stare. Part of him really wanted to know what was so interesting. She wasn’t even looking at the clothing, or him, or anyone.
He gave her one more minute to respond, one more minute where Luna didn’t arrive. “No, Kathy doesn’t intern here anymore.”
At last, the woman reacted. This time she simply walked out.
Blake returned to staring at the computer or more accurately watching the clock.
“Come on, Nelson.” Sam corralled his charge.
The click of the door closing let Blake know his friend left. Something told him if she were to show, she would have been right on time. He ran his hand over his face and contemplated sleep. “All I ask for is a little help. Everyone here has to be useful. I can’t have people just standing around.”
“Isn’t that what models do?”
The only voice he wanted to hear rang though his ears, and he opened his eyes. His whole body jolted at vision in front of him. “No, that’s what one of my interns does, or did. Actually, modeling is quite a difficult job.”
“Well, I suppose I’ll believe you, you were right about one thing.” She stepped over the threshold.
“What might that be?” He approached her feeling not unlike a crazed animal in heat stalking his mate. Something about her made him insane, and he needed to take it down a notch.
She smoothed her hands over the dress and tugged at the hem. “It fits. Well, I got everything fastened, so I used that as a qualifier.”
“Stop fidgeting. Just let me take you all in.” Yes, he needed to appreciate her as a woman and an art form. His eyes wide, he circled around her. The fit was perfect, the shape ideal, everything exactly as he planned. Her red hair flowed down her back and she put on her usual makeup complete with a copious amount of black eyeliner. “You are mouthwatering.”
At his assessment and compliment, a blush added color to her pale complexion. “I hope I got everything in the right place.”
Not through checking her over, he put his finger to her lips, his focus going right to her chest. Talk about mouthwatering. “Are you wearing a bra?” He raised his hand to find out for himself, but stopped mid-stream. Though his body protested, he needed to work with his mind, set his resolve and not only have sex with her.
“Is that something all designers ask?” She narrowed her eyes, but caught his hand and pressed his palm to the side of her breast.
“When you are my model, your body is my canvas and I need to know everything.” His resolve waned at the soft flesh just beneath his fabric and he moved behind her to check the fit of the dress from a different angle.
“What about when I’m not your model?” As if testing him, she popped her backside out at him, hitting him in exactly the right spot, or the wrong spot depending on how he looked at things.
“Same rules apply.” His resolve was the only thing that waned, everything else in his body waxed, or swelled. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over her. “I see we decided against panties.”
“I didn’t want to create any lines that weren’t supposed to be there.” She gave him a little wiggle. “Plus, I seem to be missing a pair.”
“Red lace, barely there, I recall those, they are now freshly laundered and in my dresser drawer. I wasn’t sure if you would show, and I needed a souvenir.” With his lower half taking over, he reached around her, cupping both her breasts in his hands. The full mounds were ripe, perfect for a taste.
“Is this part of being a model?” She looked up backward at him.
“No. That’s me copping a feel.” There was nothing between her and his clothing, and that knowledge aroused him to no end. With a wink, he gave her a quick kiss on her nose and returned to her front, taking her hands and holding them out. “Would you like to see what you spurred in me?”
Her gaze traveled right to the front of his pants.
“Aside from that, which is a given.” He grabbed his resolve back and swiped his arm around the room. “Welcome to my Fall/Winter Collection. Edge, destruction, revolution."
Rather than direct her, he waited to see which look she would gravitate to first.
“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.” She began by taking the whole room in and finally went toward the outfit with the skintight leather pants and a fitted jacket.
“That was made for you.” He stepped back, willing himself to be quiet and let her experience the clothes.
With a nod, she took in one of the sketches featuring a pencil skirt with corseted lacing going up one side. One could leave the laces loose showing some skin, or tighten them for the workplace.
“I thought of you when I sketched that.” He bit the side of his mouth and watched her go to the next one, studying the fabric board for another dress. This one had a plunging neckline and sleeves that appeared as if the wearer would have been running away from monsters, shredded and distressed. “Your breasts served as the inspiration for that, I’m quite taken with them.”
She studied each design, flitting from one to another, and gasped in front of one of the only semi-completed evening gowns.
Floor length, fitted bodice, her black lace overlay, a full skirt held in strategic places with buckles revealing peeks of deep blue satin.
Unable to control himself, he joined her. "Would you believe me if I told you the dress would fit you?"
"Actually, I would." She reached out and touched the fabric. "How do you do this?"
The sarcastic undertone that always accompanied her voice disappeared to be replaced with wonder.
"I always loved clothes, loved what they could do and how they could change someone. You can hide or magnify just about anything with a different outfit." He unbuttoned the side of her dress revealing a glorious stripe of skin. "When I first went into design I worked in men's wear, but the real creativity comes in dealing with women's clothing."
"I thought I was modeling." The undertone reappeared full force.
"I know you’re modeling." He removed the dress from the form. "Anyway, my family invested and I decided to start my own brand. After finally opening the doors, I was overcome with designer's block, it's similar to writer's block."
"I understand."
"I think all creative people have it. Our minds work differently and screech to a halt if we are unsure of something." Dress in hand, he turned and stopped. Luna stood in front of him stark naked except for her heels. The dress she wore draped over her arm. His body heated. "Well." He really had nothing after the well unless it involved getting a condom.
"Don’t you want me to try on the other dress?" She handed him her outfit. Now nothing impeded his view of her in all her glory, and glory wasn't a glorious enough word.
Somehow he managed to nod and put her original outfit aside without taking his eyes off her.
"So, what were you unsure of?" She put her hands on her hips.
"My vision, what I wanted. I think a writer would call it putting it into words, I would call it putting it in an image." Though he longed to give in to his desire, he chose to hold out the dress. "Then I saw you and your look and your attitude spurred something in me."
Without coaxing, she stepped into the dress.
"Once I experienced you on a different level, the fog in my head cleared, and the line I wanted was born." Holding onto the dress, he moved them in front of a floor to ceiling mirror and worked the fastenings.
"So, in order to keep your creativity flowing, do we need another level? We already tried a wall and a bar, what's next?" She gave him a sideways glance.
On the floor, bent over his desk, a chair, anywhere he could have her. Before
Luna, he might be considered what one would call conservative in matters of the bedroom, but now every location held potential, but potential he needed to capitalize on after he knew something other than how her legs wrapped around him. “My God, you are stunning.”
The color in her cheeks deepened.
“Let me show you something.” Wanting her to understand, he reached over and retrieved a long scrap of her lace and wrapped it over the top of her chest. “If I decide to add this, I am giving you a more demure look. The woman who wears this wants edge, but doesn’t want too much skin showing.”
Her brow furrowed as she took in her image in the mirror.
“If I lower it slightly, it turns into someone who is just trying too hard.” He slid the lace down.
She shook her head.
“Now watch.” He wrapped his arms around her and tucked the lace following the deep neckline of the dress leaving only a little peeking out. “Now I’ve added a detail that needs to be there. It screams that this is high end, yet the wearer of the dress is incredibly sexy and classy.”
They both looked in the mirror. The sides of her mouth flicked as if she stifled a smile, and he knew she got it.
“Let me see you walk.” Like an old-fashioned gentleman, he took her hand and led her in a circle around him. He almost felt like bowing and asking her to a cotillion.
The dress flowed exactly the way he intended, a black wave, elegant yet tough. Luna’s red hair played perfectly off her skin, the dress and her ice blue eyes. "They're blue."
"What's blue?" As if trying to balance, she held out her other arm and stiffly straightened up.
"Your eyes. Every time I've seen you it's been a dark club." Rather than lead her, he pulled her in and put his arm around her waist. "Relax, you carry trays of drinks and never spill, that’s all the balance you need. Walk normal, don't strut, don't stomp, don't march, simply walk like you own the place because everyone's eyes will be on you. Just like mine."
Again, they stopped in front of the mirror.
"Brown-black." She pressed her body to his and glanced up at him.
"What is?" Spying an errant thread he picked it off the bodice.
"The eyes that you say are on me." In an unexpected move, she pushed back, took the skirt in her hand and turned like an expert and walked away. "I better practice."
"How do you feel?" He watched her use the perimeter of the room as her runway.
"I can't talk, I'm too concerned with not strutting, stomping or marching, but I think I still need to do my own thing." With a bit of an attitude, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, put her hand on her hip, and sashayed around the last corner.
Right as she approached him, her heel caught in something and she tripped.
Male instinct took over and in a move that would no doubt impress his fathers, he lunged forward and caught her. “Are you all right?”
At first she hid her face in his chest, then she tensed and tried to push him away.
Something told him to hold her tight. “Luna?”
She lifted her face to his but didn’t actually look at him. “Let’s stop the play acting now, okay?”
“What?” Unsure of what caused the sudden sharpness in her tone, he waited for her explanation to what felt like an accusation.
“You know, for a moment I almost believed I could do it and it would have been an experience of a lifetime.” She put her hand over her eyes. “I believed I could model for you. When I saw you were actually a designer with a studio and everything, I really thought everything you said was the truth.”
Though he wanted to gnash his teeth together at her doubts, he needed to ask the next question. “When did I lie to you?”
At last she met his eyes. “I’m not a model. I know this and deep down you do as well.”
“I’m going to be honest with you.” Most women would fall all over themselves to be a model or to help him, and he was glad she didn’t take her responsibility lightly. He took this opportunity to go after what he really wanted. “I don’t know what you are or not. All I know is I met a woman who inspired something in me in every conceivable way, and I want to get to know her. However, something tells me you can be whatever you want, damn the convention. That personifies my line, what I want and what I know.”
“Blake.” With her soft voice full of wonder and her even softer caress against his chin, he was lost.
The first night they were together, he went in for the kiss first. Last night she definitely made the first move.
Today, they acted together. In unison their mouths met, their lips parted, their tongues connected.
A certain electricity took over his body every time they kissed, his body surged with a want unlike anything he ever experienced. Instead of holding her so she wouldn't get away from him, he embraced her, needing to feel her body up against his.
Unable to control taking what he wanted, he bent her back and cupped one of her glorious breasts in his palms, his fingertips instantly traveling to her nipple. Even with the thick fabric covering her, he could still clearly make out her tight peak. The urge to taste her cleavage overtook him and he slid his lips down her neck and to her chest.
Her breath hitched, her body trembled.
He backed them up to a long couch he had set up along one wall of his studio, gathered up the enormous amount of fabric surrounding Luna and sat down placing her on his lap. Already his erection strained against his jeans, he needed to stop them. “Luna.”
She answered by crushing her lips to his.
They kissed deeply, a mixture of passion and urgency.
All too fast, she had unbuttoned his shirt and his hands roamed under her skirt and up her legs. Before his fingers reached their goal, he broke their kiss. “Luna.”
“You got me in the dress, you need to figure out how to get me out.” She slid off his lap and lay back on the couch lifting her knee, but the long skirt still hid everything.
Though he longed to dive in those layers of fabric and satiate both of them, the last bastion of his resolve shined through. “Tell me what you write about.”
“Do you want to talk about writing?” She leaned up on her elbows. Their activity had shifted the outfit and her breasts threatened to spill out of the top of the dress.
“I want to talk about you.” He ran a finger up her calf.
“I thought you wanted to take things to a new level.” Once more, she leaned back.
“Yes, I thought I would learn all about you.” His hand disappeared under the skirt and found its way to her knee.
“Here’s everything you need to know.” She took it upon herself to lift the skirt up giving him a peek of the treasures underneath.
“And what’s that?’ His own hands betrayed him and he rubbed his palm over her thigh.
“The fact I want you inside me and you’re wasting time talking when I’m throbbing for you.” She hooked her other leg over the back of the couch.
Tales through time spoke of the pull of the moon on human behavior. Nothing compared to the pull of Luna on him in the most primal way, and his resolve finally surrendered. “I hate to waste time.” He practically lunged for her.
The intensity of their kisses rose, demanded more. Their touches were designed to torment, stoke the other’s need.
He worked his way down. With both hands he did one of his favorite things and pressed her breasts together, accentuating her already amazing form and dipped his tongue in the deep crevice he created. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“I’m right here for the taking.” She arched her back and tried to shimmy the strapless dress down.
"Then I'm going to indulge." He reached to the side of the dress, found the seam and pulled. The stitches down to the waistline created at succession of satisfying pops as they broke revealing the goodness underneath the dress.
"The dress!" Luna gasped and put her hand over her chest.
"Don't worry, it's just basted." Though warmed by her concern, he wasn't ab
out to allow anything in the way of his quest. He swiped her hand away and turned his attention to her hard, aroused nipples, taking his turn with each one.
A low moan escaped Luna's throat. Her sounds only spurred him on to a new resolve…satisfy his muse, and he slid down between her legs.
With too much fabric to tear away, he delved under the skirt to the place that had become his own personal wonderland and took a taste, just a small, light lick to whet his appetite. Sweet and salty, perfectly feminine and purely Luna, the moment the flavor uniquely belonging to her overtook his taste buds, a hunger unleashed in him that he knew would only be quenched by more helpings. Rather than a rush to enter her, he took his time and let his lips and tongue indulge.
"Oh." She squirmed.
With one hand, he moved her legs further apart, while with the other he entered her with two fingers. Already wet from want, he had no trouble treating her to a little fondling.
Instantly, her muscles clenched down on his offering. "Blake."
He responded to her calling for him by flicking his tongue over the one spot that required the most attention.
She bucked her hips. "Please."
Now he took her sensitive nub between his lips.
"God." Her and her body shook. “Like that.”
He wondered if she would stop him before she came or let him finish her off. Though he would love to bring her to orgasm and feel her explode in his mouth, he also wanted them to climax together.
"Blake." She clawed at the dress moving the fabric up to her waist.
Pretending not to hear her, he continued, alternating between swirling his tongue over her and sucking the one bundle of nerves destined to bring her pleasure.
“Blake! Stop!” Her panting overtook the room. “I need you inside me now, hurry!”
Her pleas and her words resonated through him. With no more prodding needed, he stood to get rid of his clothes.
“I can’t wait.” Her hand instantly went to her center. “Come on.”
His mind surged at the amazing scene before him. “You are so fucking sexy.” Adrenaline raced through him, and he fished through his pocket and dumped out his wallet to find a condom.
Come Undone: Romance Stories Inspired by the Music of Duran Duran Page 5
