Who knew that a Mona Lisa smile brings out the animal instincts in a man? Here is Kimmie in part one of a new hot story:
ANIMAL INSTINCTS, Part One
That night, I went out by myself, without my girls to buffer me from my appetite.
I camped out prettily at an advantageous corner of the bar, Mona Lisa smile on my lips, inviting the worthy to inquire about my amusement. Again and again, men slid by me and performed an appreciative once-over, each one ending with an eerily similar expectant glance over their shoulders as they continued past me, hoping for an invitation that I would not extend. I watched many sets of male eyes around the bar settle on me then slide off, then find me again, only to wind up staring at the floor. If they felt themselves inadequate, I wasn’t about to argue.
I was looking in one direction when I felt a strong hand slide to my lower back from the other, and a rich, deep voice with lips brushing my ear said, “So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” My smile, reacting first to the voice and the grip, turned coquette. My head tilted sideways as my eyes found the face of the first man to finally attempt to lay claim to me that night. His smile was lovely and his eyes were already laughing at his ridiculous words, which made two of us. He squeezed my waist and then let go, stepping back just a bit to a more conversational distance.
He was pretty handsome and slightly taller than I, wearing jeans and boots with a white embroidered button-up with a black vest. He was lanky and lean, but nicely proportioned. “I’m Jon,” he said, offering me the hand not holding a martini. I reached for the glass instead, smiling my question. “Try it,” he smiled back. “I hope you like it dirty.” You have no idea, I replied in my head, as I sweetly took a ladylike sip of his drink. I didn’t really want it, but I was pleased that he offered. In the past, I’d forgiven too many men who didn’t want me to drink from their glasses. Silly men who apparently weren’t thinking ahead as to the possibilities of where else my mouth might go.
I handed him the glass back and touched my tongue to my lips, watching him as he watched my mouth. For a split second, his eyes turned predatory. Yes. That was the look I’d craved for far too long. I didn’t want the naked need or the hopeful-yet-disbelieving desire that betrayed those less dominant. I wasn’t looking for the desperate gratefulness of all the man-snacks I’d had before. To be hunted, I needed a hunter, and it seemed that I might have finally found one.
I thanked him for the drink, stepping into him briefly, hand on his chest, letting him register the full length of my body against his own for a moment. I moved back again, reaching for my water glass on the ledge behind me. I watched as his chest bowed out and his body started to follow my movement, unwillingly to let me get any further away. Excellent. His instincts were good. He hadn’t built up years of squelching the commands of his body like so many men I had met before. He wasn’t trying to hide or disguise what nature was commanding him to do. He had seen something he wanted. His body was ready to go after it. His brain seemed ready, too.
I chatted and flirted, continuing to turn into him and then away, pulling him to me and then withdrawing. He was intelligent and witty and very charming. Several times when conversation lagged a moment and our eyes met, I read a delicious blend of ownership and respect on his face as he looked at me. Any time another man passed by me with his once-over, I would feel an arm snake back around me and find him pressed up against me, smiling politely but dismissively at his potential rival. I loved the feel of his arm around me, his hand tucked between my arm and breast, and the way he let it trail off me again, sliding innocently and yet with a purpose down my back and slowly across my ass. He looked at me and cocked a grin, briefly lifting one eyebrow, challenging me to say anything about the liberties he was taking. Fat chance. There was no way I was going to challenge the masculinity of a man who had me teetering on the edge of being convinced that he might actually be exactly what I was looking for. I would let him protect me if that’s what he wanted to do, and happily at that.
I excused myself to the ladies room, taking my drink with me. I pushed gently through the crowd, not meeting any eyes, just smiling and moving on. I went the wrong way down a dimly lit hall, ending up at the men’s room instead. I stopped and turned to go back. He was right behind me. A startled squeal escaped me, making him laugh. “Did I surprise you?” he asked, stepping forward into me. My heart started to beat faster. There was no one else in the long hall. The anticipation was suddenly wrenching and delicious. This was it. This was the moment where I would find out what kind of man he truly was. Would he be a gentleman and step politely out of my way? Would he clown around and break the tension with a stupid joke? Would he turn red and start stammering, lost and confused without the protection of the crowd around?
He reached for my hands, sloshing my drink down one arm. He took the glass from my hand and set it on a side table. He lifted my arm and brought it to his lips, licking the drip from the inside of my elbow. He ran his tongue all the way to my wrist, gently sucking the thin skin there, licking away all evidence of the liquid. He stopped, still holding my arm, and looked straight at me, no hint of a smile on his face. I glanced up the hall to make sure we were still alone, but he looked only at me, apparently not caring one way or the other. I shivered. He took both hands again, pushing them gently against the wall on either side of my body as he leaned in to kiss me. He stopped, an inch from my face, and raised his gaze from my lips to my eyes. He smiled. I smiled. He closed the distance and pressed his lips into mine.
My heart thudded slowly in my chest as time stopped and my consciousness was reduced to those thin points of contact between us. I felt my pulse beating in my wrists where he was grabbing them. I felt the heat of his hands and his fingertips pressing into my skin. I smelled his face, so close to mine, breathing in the musk of his sweat, his aftershave and even his shampoo. I tasted his soft firm lips, and as he opened my mouth with his tongue, I tasted his drink as well.
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