Wicked
Alexis Tae, Zac Wild Pic(s)
The air itself felt heavy with a primal perfume, a mingling of expensive bourbon and the warm, musky scent of female skin. Across the dimly lit room, her silhouette was a study in languid grace, one long leg crossed over the other, a stiletto dangling precariously from her toes. The deep crimson of her dress was a slash of bold color agat the dark leather booth, the fabric clinging to every curve as if painted on. She lifted her glass, her lips leaving a faint, glossy imprint on the rim as she took a slow, deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving his. A slow, knowing smile played upon her mouth, a silent promise of things to come that sent a jolt of pure anticipation straight through him. The low thrum of the bass seemed to vibrate up from the floorboards, syncing with the quickening pulse he could see at the base of her throat. She uncrossed her legs with an unhurried fluidity, the whisper of nylon a secret sound meant only for him in the noisy haze. Leaning forward slightly, the neckline of her dress gaped just enough to reveal the shadowed valley between her breasts, a glimpse of paradise that stole the air from his lungs. In that charged silence, her finger traced a slow, wet circle on the condensation of her glass, a simple, devastatingly erotic gesture that sealed their unspoken pact.
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