Tom Holland smuts

Stockings

Another film, another wrap party. I finished applying my smoky eyeshadow and vivid red lipstick, before spraying a cloud of my favourite DKNY perfume into the air and walking though it so it scented every inch of me. I looked in the mirror at my stunning underwear, the deep red contrasting with my pale skin which peeped enticingly through the lace, and above my sheer black seamed stockings. I slipped into my heels enjoying the way it elongated my figure and pushed my butt out slightly. I smiled and lifted the black velvet dress off the hanger and shimmied into it, reaching awkwardly behind me to pull up the zip. There, perfect, as I bent my knee, allowing the slit on the dress to fall either side of my leg showcasing my toned body to perfection as the material skimmed my cinched in waist the inbuilt corset also pushing my breasts to their optimum presentation as I carefully tucked in a stray centimetre of red lace which peeked out. Maybe later, I thought as I left the room heading downstairs to where Tom was waiting.

He couldn't keep his eyes off me, from the moment I came down the stairs and his eyes almost fell out of his head as he gulped looking me up and down. "Like what you see my love?" I asked cheekily as he approached, running his hand across the material of my waist, beginning to reach for the slit of the skirt

"Like it? Baby, lets stay in tonight - fuck the party" he said as he stared at the creamy skin of my breasts contrasting with the dark material.

"Hmm, how about no. I spent over an hour getting ready. Plus you are the star attraction of the party so its only fair to go, think of everyone who has worked so hard on it...."

He sighed but aquiesced, motioning for me to walk ahead of him as he ogled the sway of my hips and my butt filling out the back of the dress before letting out a strangled sound at the sight of the seams and heels. "Damn it" he muttered.

The party was great, everyone was really nice and friendly and they certainly appreciated the speech Tom made about halfway through thanking them all for their incredible work and wishing them all success on their next projects. I was enjoying myself too, I'd had a couple of glasses of champagne and decided that Tom was looking far too unbothered next to me, so I began to raise my flirting game, playing with my necklace and gently touching my cleavage while making a point to the group, watching as his eyes dipped down following the movement of my fingers, inhaling sharply as he caught a hint of red lace; sitting by him and carefully uncrossing my legs to 'straighten' the seam of the stocking, as his eyes darkened at the sight. He became much more protective as the evening moved on and more drinks were taken, almost guarding me and chasing away anyone who he perceived as being too friendly towards me with no more than a stormy stare. We were dancing together and he was holding me rigidly, tightly, and scanning those near us; I knew my game was almost complete as his hot hand skimmed my waist drawing me close into him and he could feel the warmth rising from me. We moved apart slightly and my leg pushed out through the slit and he let out a strangled moan as he caught sight of the garter straps and the confirmation that I was indeed wearing stockings and not tights as he'd thought.

As we turned I was more in the shadows at the edge of the dancefloor and he slipped his hand into the slit of my skirt, running his hand over the lace of the stocking tops and the soft skin they encircled. He gripped my leg, tight, hard as he muttered sharply through gritted teeth

"Jesus Christ. Stockings! Fuck me, I am so hard right now. You better keep them on tonight. We are leaving. Now!" as he pushed me ahead of him, concealing the hardness in his trousers, undoing his jacket to help with the concealment issue. He offered some quick goodbyes as he rushed out to the car, unlocking it and swiftly climbing in and driving away, one warm hand placed on my thigh, playing with the lace trim and squeezing as he resolutely kept his eyes on the fortunately empty roads ahead.

Tom led me through the door of his house before closing it quickly and then pushing me back against it and kissing me deeply, almost devouring each other as we tried to make up for the agony and frustrations of the last few hours. He began to slide my dress up over my hips so he could feel the stockings and garter properly, reaching down to run his hands over the contrasting silky, then lacy material intersperced with my warm soft pliant skin, which he dug his hand into passionately, leaving bruises blooming. As he suckled on my neck and down, leaving dark marks all along my collar bone I gripped at his hair, as desperate for him as he was for me; all I could think of was him inside me, never had I been as desperate as I was now.