Vicariously Yours,

Blindly Undressing

A predatory light shone in Marcelo's topaz eyes. His mouth had taken the controls and now, he was far too deep in this. The redness in her cheeks was glowing and to think he had a hand in it was far more pleasing than he would admit.

He noticed how she was playing with the loose seam of her pants at her knee. He was almost positive that she was unaware of what she was doing.

"I think about you." His head tilted, his eyes slowly heavy with lust and need assessed her. He could see clearly the way she breathed, her chest falling high and then, sinking low.

The street outside echoed in its traffic hum and the silence that hung over the room was cascading like a handful of sand slipping through the crease effortlessly.

"I think about you a lot, baby doll."

Her eyes blinked several times as if registering what he was saying. Marcelo found that to be highly appealing at the moment. Let it in sink in, baby doll.

He nods at her blouse. "That shirt is one minute away from being shredded fabric on this floor."

He grinned when she automatically tightened her small fist around her shirt's collars, closing it up to her chin. To think she can protect herself from him now. He chuckled, getting up.

She didn't move from her seat but her eyes watched him with a detective's calculated sharpness. He walked to the door and whirling the lock with a small click, he turned and slanted a look at her.

"Get up and sit on the arm of the sofa."

Isabella couldn't stop shaking. She had to thank herself for already sitting because if she were standing, her knees would have given in and she would have collapsed.

Mimicking his own tone, and setting up a stern face as she cocked her brow up. "No."

"Get up and sit on the arm of the sofa."

"No! And I don't appreciate being commanded-"

"Get up and sit on the arm of the sofa." His voice wasn't raised but his inflection was felt. It was hard, staggering and dammit, arousing.

"No! I will not-"

"Get up and do as I say, Isabella!"

Her eyes widened at him. Then, with a huff she got up and was about to sit on the couch when he cleared his throat. She glared at him and then shifted to sit on the arm of the sofa primly.

"Mount it."

God, no. What is happening out here? Isabella has never seen this side of him. This barbaric commander who seemed to be hot as hell, who was making her tremble in both fear and excitement.

"Marcelo-"

"Do it now, Isabella." Why she couldn't reply back or snark back when he used her name like that was out of her hand. The way he spoke her name was like he was sampling a good scotch. With a sense of defeat, she did as she was told.

With awkward movements, she hitched her knees astride the arm of the couch. When she carefully distributed her weight so that she didn't fall, she felt her clothed pussy lips and clit settling at an angle that made her frown in question.

When she peered up, Marcelo was already sitting on her chair. No one sat on her chair except her. And there he was. His legs widening in his stance. His broad shoulders taking up its place. His eyes was so focused on her mound, she wanted to cover it from his perverted eyes.

He didn't speak for long moments. Simply just staring at her.

"I want to know what you do to me." His voice was soft. On the contrary, it was the softest gruff she ever heard him utter.