Show Off, page 7
Less than an hour later, Elle pushed the buzzer to Reiko and Yolande’s apartment. The simple sign didn’t have a name on it and for good reason. Aside from the fact that Reiko didn’t like people knowing that she was from the Inoue Media family, this was the type of expensive apartment building where everyone valued their privacy and anonymity.
“Come.”
Elle didn’t have a chance to say something cheeky, like ‘I intend to’, because the door beeped and she needed to push it open and enter the building. The lift in the lobby had a no-touch system, and she sanitised her hands while she waited until one of the elevators opened. It took her directly to the penthouse suite. There were only two apartments on this floor; one decorated in a lush soft style chosen by Reiko and Yolande with a purpose built cat play area and house for their cats, Captain and Bounce. The other had a stark minimalist decorative style to suit the wealthy owner who occasionally stayed there when in London. She’d designed both places; Reiko had kindly offered to get her father to feature her place in an article, and the PA for the owner of the other apartment, Georgie, had contacted her about his place. She still didn’t know the owner’s name, only one of his company names, Beautravers Investments, because that’s who she’d been told to invoice. Georgie hadn’t given away many clues either, except to say her boss travelled a lot for work and he would approve everything via email. Whatever. It’d been a great challenge to take what was essentially the same space and design two very different interiors to suit the owners.
She stepped out of the lift and knocked on the front door for the apartment. After a long minute, Elle’s toes started to jiggle in her shoe until Charlie, finally, opened the door. The white top she wore stole Elle’s breath away; it was tight with lacing that drew her gaze to Charlie’s tits.
“Come in.”
Elle swallowed. “Come now. Come. Come in.” She repeated all of Charlie’s various comments, ones that had cycled around her head as she’d sat on the tube on the way here, trying to distract herself with the latest Fiona Zedde erotica. It had only left her needy and desperate to see Charlie, who stood in front of her with her tits right there. A shiver raced down her spine and she was already wet and ready.
“Yes. What took you so long?”
“I live at Crouch End.” Elle lifted her gaze up from Charlie’s tits. The little smirk on Charlie’s lips sent a flush of heat across Elle’s cheeks.
“If you want to touch these—” Charlie shook her tits a little, “—you’ll need to follow me.” She spun around and walked into Reiko and Yolande’s apartment. Elle gasped. Charlie wore black fishnet stockings on her long legs with a seam line that ran up the back of her legs from her red stilettos all the way up to her arse. The world’s tiniest g-string in matching red was barely visible under the fishnets thanks to the colour, and of course, when Elle finally moved her feet to follow Charlie inside, Charlie slapped her hands on her arse. Oh. Elle couldn’t hold back the moan. The door closed behind her with a quiet click. Elle licked her dry lips.
“You don’t have to dance for me.” Her voice sounded like it’d been dragged along a gravel road behind a motorbike.
Charlie glanced over her shoulder. “What if I want to?”
“I wouldn’t say no.”
“Sit.” Charlie pointed to a chair and Elle sat, barely noticing anything except Charlie. They could’ve been in a basement, or on a beach, or anywhere, and Elle wouldn’t have seen anything except Charlie. Charlie, who leaned forward seductively, in a deliberate burlesque move that Elle had seen her do on stage a million times. Why was it so much hotter when it was just for her? Her tits spilled against the gap in the top she wore, and Elle’s fingers itched to pull it off.
“Take it off.” Elle found her voice, although it grumbled under a groan as Charlie shook her tits again. How did she do that without moving her shoulders?
“Patience. Don’t you know that burlesque is all about the tease?”
“Maybe I don’t want to be teased. Maybe I just want to rip off those stockings and lick you.”
Charlie pursed her lips. “Maybe I’d let you...” She smirked a little, “—except I haven’t danced for a week thanks to the fucking disaster that is my mother’s life.”
“I can help you forget.” Elle could kiss all that frustration away until Charlie cried out for her.
“How?” Charlie walked towards her, slowly pulling her top upward, exposing her taut belly. She stopped a few inches away from Elle, close enough that Elle could see the way gooseflesh rose on Charlie’s skin as she blew a long breath over Charlie’s belly button.
“Keep doing that and you’ll find out.”
“And if I turn away?”
Elle grinned. “Try it.”
Charlie turned slowly—so slowly—then bent forward so her arse was right in front of Elle’s face. Elle leaned forward on the chair and did the most obvious thing. She licked right between Charlie’s legs, tasting only fabric at first, and then, yes, Charlie’s wetness coated her tongue and she licked again. The little hint of rose came through under the overwhelming perfection of Charlie. The fabric rasped on her tongue, opposite to the soft texture of Charlie’s skin.
“I thought you were going to rip them off first.”
Elle chuckled against Charlie’s g-string and licked her again. She gripped the edge of the chair to stop herself using her hands; she wanted Charlie to keep herself there of her own choice.
“Go on.”
Elle licked again and this time, Charlie was even wetter. The fabric didn’t have the best texture but it didn’t matter, the taste of Charlie dominated. “You do it. You wanted to dance.”
Charlie only groaned in reply, then slowly pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the ground beside her. She bent her spine and spread her legs a little more, so Elle had to change the angle of her head to keep her mouth against Charlie’s sex.
“There’s too much fabric here.”
“Patience.” The word was almost lost in the moan from Charlie, and Elle wanted to make her do it again.
“Or...” She stretched higher on the chair so her chin rested on the top of Charlie’s arse. “Or...” She waited, purposefully, to see how Charlie would react. Charlie jumped forwards, leaving a whisper of cool air and without somewhere to rest her chin, Elle nearly toppled forward off the chair. Good thing she was clinging on with her hands. Charlie spun around. Her tits looked great in a matching red bra with lace edging.
Elle twisted her hands together in her lap; better that than reach up and grope Charlie. She wanted Charlie to decide their pace today because it was Charlie’s need who mattered most after being hounded by the press. How stressful. Charlie wriggled her hips and slid the stockings down over her g-string. With the waistband hooked around the top of her thighs, she danced, slowly gyrating and twisting. As much as Elle appreciated the performance, she had Charlie’s taste on her tongue and she wanted more.
“That’s enough.” Elle stood up and marched over to Charlie. She reached up, slinging her arms around Charlie’s shoulders, and pulled her down for a kiss. Elle kissed her hungrily. She’d missed this, the tangle of their tongues, the way Charlie danced in a kiss, always teasing and taunting, and yet, when Elle pushed, Charlie gave way perfectly.
Together they lowered to the couch, mouths still tangled, and Elle couldn’t hold back a sigh as she lay on top of Charlie. She could just stay there, pressed against her gorgeous body, but she knew that Charlie needed more than that.
“How long have you been stuck here?”
“A couple of days. The press followed me home after work and wouldn’t leave. Reiko rescued me.”
Elle grinned. “She’s such a good friend.” She kissed Charlie again.
“Yeah. I don’t want to think about it now. Not with you and your curves all over me.”
Elle flushed. She swallowed back the question filled with doubt about her body and sucked in a deep breath. Why doubt when Charlie obviously wanted her? She kissed her again, deep and passionate, until Charlie groaned into her mouth. It was so easy to nibble along Charlie’s jaw, down her throat, and press a kiss to the hollow between her collar bones. She held Charlie’s face, then slowly and deliberately used her fingers to trail after her kisses. With a wriggle, she shifted off the couch to kneel on the floor. It gave her more space to explore Charlie’s incredible body.
“So fit and strong.”
“Benefits of the job.” Charlie winked with that little smirk on her lips again. Elle reached up and pressed her fingers against Charlie’s lips.
“Shh.” Uncertainty still plagued her, something that didn’t usually happen in the presence of Charlie and her amazing body. Maybe it was the change of location; she’d never fucked Charlie anywhere except at Seraph’s and always after a show ... Except for the other day. This would be the second exception. She should just embrace this. Embrace Charlie. What was stopping her?
Chapter 7
Charlie understood patience. The art of burlesque was all about anticipation, building people up and making them wait for the final moment. And never quite giving it to them. So she waited, with Elle’s fingers on her lips. The gentle touch wasn’t enough to keep her in place. Elle’s command was. She wanted to see what Elle would do next. One of the reasons Elle was her favourite hook up was her vast imagination. Charlie only had to wait long enough for Elle to cast off her uncertainty, the shield of caution that she carried with her, and step into herself. Because when Elle decided what she wanted, it was incredibly hot.
The change in her demeanour was like watching a shape-shifter turn from a timid human into a bold lioness in charge of the herd. When Elle knew what she wanted, she became a queen. The commander of Charlie’s body. Charlie wanted that more than anything; to lose herself in Elle’s directions with all of Elle’s focus on her. It was like being on stage, but with only one person in the audience, with all the intensity that came from that. Too many hook ups let their minds drift during sex, and Charlie could tell when they weren’t fully committed.
Elle never did that. The silence from Elle stretched and stretched, and with each passing moment, Charlie became wetter. She wanted to rip off her stupid stockings. Why did she choose ones that went up to her waist over single legs ones with a garter belt? Garters were hotter. Her mouth dried out and still Elle didn’t move. Charlie groaned, needing something.
“Shh.” Elle stared, casting her gaze up and down Charlie’s torso, leaving spots of heat as if she’d touched her. Hopefully Elle was planning where she would kiss Charlie. There, yes, right there. She’d already had her mouth on her and Charlie wanted more.
Charlie lifted her hips, rolling her pelvis slightly so she wasn’t flat on her back on the couch, but tilted towards Elle a little. The hint must have been enough as Elle puffed out a short breath, then leaned forward, placing one hand on Charlie’s ankle and with her other hand, she slid her fingers down from Charlie’s lips and pressed on the base of her throat. With Elle’s hands spread out like that, her breasts brushed over Charlie’s stomach and Charlie wanted to complain that Elle wore too many clothes. Instead, she pinched her lips together and Elle chuckled.
“Good.” Elle inched her hand up Charlie’s leg, tracing the squares of the fishnet stockings in random patterns, until she reached her knee. Damn it, Charlie had taught her the art of patience too much. Waves of heat flowed up her legs to the point where Elle’s other hand rested lightly—too lightly—on her throat. She wanted to beg and writhe, and she pushed her spine against the couch to stay still. Her thighs started to tremble as Elle continued her anguished path up her skin. Elle plucked the stocking and let it fall with a little sting on her sensitive skin.
Charlie yelped.
“I thought I said shush.”
Charlie nodded and held her lips tighter together. She adored this tension, and when Elle did it again, she held the yelp inside her mouth. Her skin flushed with heat, surely she would be pink all over by now, but she didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see Elle’s hands on her thighs. Feeling them was overwhelming enough.
She kept her gaze on the side of Elle’s face, where the light from the huge windows created dancing shadows across Elle’s light brown skin. A long time ago, Charlie hadn’t been able to hold back her curiosity and during a memorable hook up, she’d asked about Elle’s heritage. Her dad was white and her mum was third-generation English-born Indian. Elle had rolled her eyes at Charlie when she’d said nothing more and Charlie had stumbled over asking why she’d done that. The frustration in Elle’s voice had been apparent when she’d talked about how people assumed her Mum didn’t speak English properly, and how that discarded the long colonial history England had with India. Charlie had apologised and wished she hadn’t asked the initial question; they didn’t know each other that well, and Charlie had overstepped the boundary of their relationship, if it could be called that when it was a hook up. She’d never needed to explain her own white heritage in this country, no one ever asked, they just assumed she was from here.
Thinking about her own privilege while Elle literally stroked her skin into a furious fire created an odd juxtaposition in her brain. It couldn’t be helped. Charlie was here thanks to the current fuss about her own parents. It was easy enough to remember a similar conversation and how she felt like she’d messed it up.
She shook off the thoughts. One thing she hated during sex was when the other person was obviously distracted or paying only some attention, and now she was doing just that. She blinked long and hard and focused on Elle’s hands. The one at her throat pressed infinitesimally harder, not enough to restrict her breath, but certainly enough that Charlie noticed it. It felt like a thread connected Elle’s hands, a long zap of electricity coursing between them, up and down her body, until she wanted to groan and pant and writhe.
Elle leaned forward and used her teeth to pull the waistband of the stocking off Charlie’s thighs where she’d pushed it down to earlier. Charlie held her breath, waiting for the inevitable slap of elastic on her skin. It didn’t come. She waited and waited until she couldn’t hold her breath anymore. She dragged in a heavy breath and only then did Elle let the elastic go. It pinged on Charlie’s skin and she gasped. Elle hadn’t said anything about not moving, so she grabbed her stockings and pushed them down her legs as far as she could reach. The elastic scratched her skin, surely leaving red marks behind, but she didn’t care. She needed to be bare for Elle.
Elle’s hands joined hers, stripping her of her stockings and g-string, and then Elle stood up. She pulled the stockings all the way down to Charlie’s feet, then quickly undid her stilettos and took everything off. Charlie half sat up on her elbows, needing more, needing to watch what Elle was going to do next.
Elle hummed under her breath and Charlie wanted to beg her to just pick something. To touch her. Anywhere. Elle licked her bottom lip and Charlie swallowed as the little pink slip of her tongue traced across her full lip. Oh come on. Just touch already.
Frustration built and her pulse beat unsteadily as her lungs craved more air. Elle tilted her head to the side, as if she were considering her options, and Charlie let out a strangled cry. On purpose. She wasn’t allowed to talk or make noise, but she could still disobey and see what happened. She loved this game of ebb and flow between them. Elle grinned with the complete confidence of someone who knew she was playing with fire and did it deliberately. If Elle ever danced, she’d be the type who did fire-spinning or sword swallowing, something that risked physical danger. Just as Charlie was distracted, Elle moved. She knelt on the couch, one knee either side of Charlie’s feet, and bent forward to cover Charlie’s mound with her mouth. Charlie instinctively tried to spread her legs, but Elle had her legs trapped.
“Patience. Isn’t that what you said?” Elle lifted her head away from where Charlie wanted it most and Charlie stared at her for a long moment until she did what Elle was obviously waiting for. She nodded.
“Then you should be able to take what you dish out.”
Charlie’s back arched in reflex. “Not fair.”
“Shh.” As Elle let the vibration of the word drift over Charlie’s clit, Charlie bucked again. Fuck, she needed all of Elle’s mouth on her. Temptation beckoned. She reached out and held Elle’s head, letting her fingers spread through Elle’s soft black strands.
“Charlie,” Elle warned, but Charlie was done with her teasing. She pushed Elle’s head down.
“Enough. Suck me now.”
Elle laughed against Charlie’s skin and the warm air made everything better. Elle followed the laugh with her tongue, licking and nipping and sucking, until Charlie moaned and cried out.
“Good. Make more noise. Show me your appreciation,” Elle spoke with her chin pressed against Charlie’s clit, then shifted to suck her again.
Charlie’s grip on Elle’s hair tightened, reflecting the pressure in her core, until she closed her eyes and let the waves of pleasure wash over her. Elle didn’t stop, didn’t give her any respite. She kissed and licked and nuzzled her as if she loved doing it and never wanted to stop. Charlie came and came, so hard that bright spots burst across her vision and she heard herself cry out over and over. Eventually Elle kissed Charlie’s stomach and Charlie sank into the couch, her head resting somewhere soft with her eyes virtually rolled back in their sockets. All the drama and tension of the last few days was gone, whipped away by Elle’s incredible tongue. Her limbs were heavy and she could barely keep her eyes open.
