STARFUCKER

there  was  a  moment  where  he  thought  ,  however  briefly  ,  that  he'd  stop  being  so  patient  .  that  he'd  fully  slip  his  fingers  inside  of  her  ,  that  his  thumb  would  rub  over  her  clit  ,  that  he'd  whisper  filthy  things  in  her  ear  just  to  see  her  try  to  keep  her  composure  .  but  no  .  because  for  somebody  like  oliver  ,  it  wasn't  necessarily  the  finale  he  was  rushing  to  get  to  ,  he  enjoyed  the  build  up  .  he  wanted  to  keep  her  just  on  the  edge  of  wanting  more  before  she  was  begging  .  and  so  his  fingers  danced  over  her  entrance  ,  ghosted  over  her  clit  ,  would  only  touch  down  on  the  skin  surrounding  where  he  knew  (  despite  being  delusional  for  pulling  this  stunt  anyway  )  she  wanted  him  most  .  how  arrogant  !

oli's  hand  fell  away  and  isabelle  found  herself  feeling  —  not  angry.  irritated,  maybe.  impatient.  she  could  think  clearly  without  the  heat  of  his  hand  between  her  legs,  and  instead  of  feeling  relief,  she  found  herself  missing  his  touch.  she  was  in  disbelief,  that  he  had  pulled  such  a  stunt,  in  disbelief  that  she  had  let  it  happen.  her  thighs  rubbed  together,  seeking  the  friction  his  fingers  had  offered,  and  shot  him  a  glare  like  she  was  saying  this  is  all  your  fault,  because  it  truly  was.  she  was  meant  to  be  on  her  best  behavior,  not  distracted  and  flushed  and  wet  and  needy,  desperate  to  feel  his  fingers  inside  her  cunt,  wanting  to  plead  for  more,  no  matter  who  might  see.  she  shook  her  head.  no,  she  thought,  feeling  her  anger  abate.  her  brother  was  right  there  —  everyone  else,  she  realized,  she  didn't  care  about.  if  anything,  the thought of being found out  excited  her.

A lesser man might've withered under that fierce gaze, but Dominic couldn't help but be both amused and charmed by the obvious fire in the gorgeous blonde. Few women that ran in his circle were brave enough to regard him with the sheer challenge that burned in Alana's eyes now. He had to admit, it was hot in more ways than one. Amusement curled his lips as he watched her mull the offer over, and then a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Oh, you don't strike me as the type to get boring, sweetheart." he said simply, tone laced with approval. Dom's smirk widened, his own head tilting at her promise. She'd certainly flipped the 'game on' switch with that one. His gaze flickered to her lips as he leaned closer, as if he might plant one on her right then and there, but he stopped short. "Then I guess I'll buy more than a few." he murmured before he shot her a teasing wink and then stood back up straight. "Give me a solid...six months." he proposed with a shrug, turning to move towards the minibar. "Six months of you at my side, playing the devoted little doll. Long enough for people to see your loyalty belongs to me." He fixed them each a drink as he spoke. "If and when your dear old dad balks, well — it won't really matter, will it?" Dom asked with a chuckle. "He's humiliated either way. Either he damn near sold you to me and I still managed to win you over, or you came willingly from the start. No matter how you slice it...I win." He stood over Alana once more, offering her the whiskey with a pointed smirk. "You've just gotta convince folks you like me."

She could tell, from the smirk dancing on his lips alone, that he did not take her as seriously as she would have liked — but she could work with that. Alana tipped her head up, stubborn in the way she held her ground, even as he leaned in, close enough that a shift of her body might have made their lips brush. The thought — and the promise of more, like he had said — distracted her for a moment, but his next words broke through the brief haze, and Alana found herself blinking at his back when she heard the gentle clink of glass on glass. Six months. She could do six months of whatever … This was supposed to be. Six months of being paraded around like a trophy, six months of him spending his money on her, six months of Alana convincing the city that he fucked her good enough to stay. Six months, at least, of guaranteed freedom. Her arms crossed over her chest, and she tilted her head as she pretended to mull it over. She already had her answer, of course — she would do anything to get out of her father's grip, anything to humiliate him just like he had attempted to humiliate her — but she wasn't going to give in so easily. Her gaze trailed down his body as he approached, a mirror of his earlier expression. “That I like you enough to let you fuck me,” she added dryly as she took the glass from him. She hid a smile against the rim as she sipped the drink, let the taste coat her tongue, felt the warmth of it down her throat as she swallowed. “Humor me, then. Tell me what it is you do that makes me stay.”  

muse a and muse b have been best friends for as long as they can remember and they do literally everything together. from visiting museums to having dinner dates, to cuddling and partying all night long, they’re inseparable. heck, they even work at the same place.