Three Means 1

Control

Dulce glared up at Pierre. There was something in his demeanor tonight , something cocky, teasing, defiant even that unsettled her. Normally, Pierre was quick to please. Never like this. Tonight, his confidence felt sharper.

She raised an eyebrow, trying to take control. even as his hand settled at the small of her back, pulling her closer than she would've liked. "You're acting bold tonight," she said. "Don't forget, you're supposed to be a good boy for me."

Pierre's lips curved into a wicked (A/N: I just watched the movie LMAO) smirk, his fingers pressing more firmly against her back. "Oh, is that what I'm supposed to be?" he whispered, his voice dipping into something that made her wet. "Funny, I don't remember agreeing to that."

This wasn't like him. Usually, he played along with her, softening beneath her touch.

"You're being awful." she said, her nails curling into the fabric of his sleeve as they moved in slow circles on the floor.

He leaned in against her ear. "Maybe I don't want to be a good boy for you right now."

Her stomach flipped, though she'd never admit it. "Be careful," she warned.

His hand slid lower on her back, just enough to make her body become stiff. "Why do I have a feeling this is exactly what you want?"

Dulce pulled back slightly, searching his face, trying to figure out whether he was serious or maybe just trying to get under her skin. Either way, he wasn't backing down.

"You're out of line," she said, her cheeks heating.

His free hand moved to her waist, holding her firmly in place as they swayed to the music. "Maybe you've forgotten I'm not as obedient as you think. Or maybe," he added, his voice dropping, "you don't want me to be."

Before she could speak, he tilted his head closer, his lips brushing very close to her ear. "Admit it."

She hated that he was right.

"No," she warned again, her voice quieter now. "You're not the one in charge here."

Pierre chuckled softly, his thumb brushing the fabric of her dress. "Whatever you need to tell yourself," he said. "I think we both know who's in control right now."

    Her thoughts scattered. She could not deny his claims.

    "Let's just go home," he whispered against her ear. "I want to feel every inch of you again."

    Dulce froze. Her heart skipped a beat as his lips brushed the curve of her neck. The room seemed to tilt, the music and laughter of the dancers distant and muted. She flushed bright red and her eyes darted nervously around the room.

His lips lingered softly. "Careful," he copied, almost playful. "You're bright red, darling. They'll notice. They'll see how wet you are for me."

She whipped her head toward him, scandalized. "You-" she started, but the words caught in her throat. She could feel the dampness in her underwear, and the infuriating part was that he knew. Of course he did.

Pierre tilted his head. "Ah, no clever comeback this time?" he drags. "I suppose it's hard to think when all that delicious blood is rushing somewhere else."

"Stop it," she said.

"Stop?" he repeated, his lips grazing the edge of her ear. "Is that what you want? Because I don't think it is." His fingers slid lower, feather light, teasing the fabric at the edge of her thigh. "Tell me to stop, Dulce. Say it, and I will."