"Salma, turn on the lights."
A random voice cut through the quietness, and a narrow ray of orange light pierced through the inky blackness in the cupboard a few seconds later. The room was a packed space where discarded garments were stashed. Yet my concentration was no longer on my surroundings but rather on the heat source crushing up against me.
I have had men press onto me before, specifically my ex-boyfriends, but I have always considered them nauseating. Whenever they held me in their embrace, it seemed like I was not meant to be there. The physical intimacies were more or less like an obligation that I have had to perform since I was dating them. It appeared as though I was just being with them or kissing them out of some unwritten relationship rule.
However, everything is different right now. My own pulse rate has increased beyond average, and every part of my skin that made contact with his exposed flesh has scorched like lava. My desire for Eugene has never reached such an uncontrollable extent. I needed him right then and there.
Our heights were not much different. The top of my head reached closer to his nose, his heavy breathing caressing my face and driving me insane. He had a chocolate and mint fragrance around him, and his seductive cologne was messing with my already wild hormones.
I had to summon all of my mental fortitude to refrain from leaping onto him. I was aware that he made me behave strangely, but this was still unexpected. I had never been so sexually attracted to any other person before, such that I didn't even mind doing the deed in this cramped closet. My torso was brushing up against his, and I swear our hearts were beating in unison, both frantic.
I was staring at the open space in his button-down shirt when I noticed something. A tattoo was inked in the center of his upper chest. His outfit concealed part of it, although the initial half revealed it to be a butterfly. But that was not it. Just one wing resembled a butterfly, whereas the other was something else.
I have always appreciated tattoos and have a few on me as well. Which must be why my hand surged upward almost by itself, out of sheer curiosity and adrenaline. Then I latched my fingertip on the first button and tugged it a little lower, unveiling his chest slightly.
I could feel him shudder beneath my touch, but I was just not paying much attention to it. My own hormones were raging so intensely that I assumed my heart had migrated and was now a resident in my throat. The light provided enough opportunity for me to examine the artwork, and I scrutinized it the way an archaeologist would inspect a recently excavated artifact.
It sported the framework of a butterfly and had one brilliantly designed wing. On the other half, however, crouched a skeleton with his skull in his hand, which looked bizarre but enthralling. There was something hypnotic about it, and the creepy bones kept me fascinated.
My right thumb stroked the ink reflexively, allowing me to immediately feel his throbbing heart against my palm. Was he affected by my touch? Does the near proximity drive him crazy, too?
One finger trailed down his torso, somewhere my inner goddess was aching to explore, but right before I could satisfy her, his muscular hand wrapped around my daring limb and clasped it in a vice-like hold. His skin felt warm, but so did mine.
"Don't."
His words came out as a raspy growl, and I almost couldn't believe it belonged to the soft-spoken Eugene. It was extremely hot and deep. Damn it! How am I supposed to move on from him after witnessing his macho side? It's literally impossible.
When I lifted my neck to meet his gaze, a thousand firecrackers erupted together in my stomach, enough to light an entire city. His eyes were boring into mine, and they were now laced with an unusual emotion. Something I never expected to see in him.
Hunger.
"I thought you were not attracted to me."
My own voice came out barely audible, and I could not even recognize myself. I might as well have been mistaken for a seductress if I hadn't known better. Even a siren would have been much more decent than me, or not. I never realized I had such an amazing talent buried in me. When it came to romance, I was just as oblivious as an art student performing her first caesarean, or so I believed. The woman flirting with this guy was either not me, or it was my body, now being used by the spirit of an enchantress. Despite the conclusion, I was having an excellent time. I assumed nothing could excite me anymore in this life, but I was wrong. So freaking wrong.
There have been occasional sounds coming from the outside, although we were both ignorant of them. At the very least, I was. I have been drowning in those dark brown orbs for the past few seconds, and I wasn't even trying to swim to the shore.
"If my memory serves me right, I did not give an answer to that question."
He responded huskily, melting my insides, but he was correct. We were interrupted before he had the chance to reply, however, I don't think I want him to answer that any more. Actions speak louder than words.
"Is that an invitation?"
I asked, leaning a bit forward, our faces almost brushing, and I really wished to fill that gap, but I didn't. I wanted his confirmation first. Eugene's breathing became more erratic, and his lips parted. I was also struggling to breathe, and I thought I would pass out shortly with all of these sensations pouring inside of me.
He wasn't replying to my query, and I was becoming ever more desperate with each agonizing second. The enchantress must be really restless inside me because I slithered my free hand around his waist and squeezed his flesh before drawing it closer to mine, literally sticking our hips with one another. I took a sharp breath at the impact and let out a shaky sigh. My body was reveling in his warmth and yelling at me to let it loose and stop holding back. I swear I nearly moaned in pleasure as his nose graced my cheek.
"Is. That. An. Invitation?"
I questioned again, emphasizing each word, and stared right into his eyes. Both of us forgot that humans were supposed to blink, and I didn't mind. Blinking isn't important now.
"I am a man, River. Don't push me."
Fuck. It was the most sensual thing I had ever heard him say. There was a hint of warning in his eyes, and I could literally see the man he mentioned in that look. This was not the Eugene everyone was familiar with. This was not the Eugene, whom people took advantage of. And this was definitely not the person Carla referred to as a 'darling'. This was a guy who was getting turned on because of the close proximity of a woman. And I was that woman. I have never felt happier to be a female, though my feminist side would not be happy about it once it regained control.
"What happens if I do? Will you take me right here?"
I could barely complete my sentence as his arms wrapped around me instantly, his fingers digging into my waist. It was kind of painful, but I don't think anything else has ever aroused me so fiercely. Is it possible that I am a masochist?
Eugene's eyes twinkled in the dark, and his gaze kept shifting between my eyes and my lips. I squeezed my thighs, and an unexplainable ache built between them.
"No, River. But I might do something stupid."
I was now both anxious and thrilled. I wanted him to break from his character. I wanted him to quit being so cautious. I wanted him to have his way with me.
I didn't say anything as I dipped my head and gently brushed my lips against his tattoo. Eugene's body stiffened, his already rough fingers tightening on me even more, and my breath hitched in my throat. His obvious need was now making its presence known in my lower abdomen. Hell, yeah!
"Shit."
Eugene cursed, and I was going to continue my slow assault on his now sweating body when he abruptly pushed me, causing the door to swing open, and I staggered outside, straight in front of three costume staff members.
They stopped cleaning and stared at me as if I were an extra-terrestrial that had just landed from space. Eugene remained standing inside the cupboard, a smirk playing on his lips. He had it all planned. This was the stupid stuff he was talking about, and it had nothing to do with what I expected he would do. That numbskull.
"Ma'am, what are you doing in there?"
One of the girls inquired, bewildered, and I glanced at her, my thoughts a mess. Since they could not see Eugene from the spot they were standing, I was to deal with this on my own.
"Uuhh... I came here to get my dress adjusted. I felt like something was crawling inside. But don't worry, I found no snake."
I laughed as if that was a hilarious joke, and they gave me weird looks while I straightened my hoodie. However, they did not inquire about how I ended up in a closed wardrobe for so long, obviously aware of my reputation as a bitch, and just asked if I wanted to use the washroom.
"Naah... I'm all good. Thank you in any case. Have a wonderful day."
I blabbered as I shut the closet doors with the guy inside, who was now biting his fist, his body shaking with suppressed laughter.
My expression was impassive as I nodded quickly at the employees before running away from the tent.
I am going to strangle that dickhead.
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