There was something carnivorous in his eyes. A long lost predatory gleam awakened in genetic memory by me. Perhaps I’d brag if I hadn’t trembled. I was dressed for my own kill. A maroon dress finished with a short pleated bottom. I had wished to play the role of the huntress but that look told me at once that I was the hunted.
The coy touching and playful glances at my bare legs sent shivers up my spine. Those eyes, I thought, were playing a game that I had laid out in elegant precision. This was chess and I was three moves ahead.
His clothes came off and I licked my teeth in anticipation. A curled finger and I drew him to me as if I pulled a string. So clever, I was, a powerful woman with my claws in this man. His lips and tongue played against mine in a chivalrous embrace. Not too hard, not too soft. Unlike his cock that was growing beneath my finger tips. That was growing harder by the second.