Nika Dixon

“You are not going back there dressed like that.” Mark’s voice was low, the growling timbre sending a pointed shock wave through Jilly’s body. His fingers tightened on her upper arms, heat leaching through the soft leather.

“Why can’t I?” she frowned, confused. She’d already been at the party, what was wrong with going back?

“Leather.”

“Leather?”

“Leather,” he repeated, releasing her upper arms. “You asked why. Leather is why.”

“Leather,” she repeated stupidly.

What was wrong with leather? He wore it. Was there something specifically wrong with the outfit itself?

Jilly moved to the mirror in the corner of his room to give herself yet another head-to-toe once over. She’d repeated the same test a dozen times in her room before she’d even stepped foot out of her apartment. It was only at her best friend’s insistence that she looked just fine that Jilly allowed herself to be dragged off to the costume party dressed like Catwoman.

The dark material shone in the soft yellow lighting, the cat-suit snugly wrapped across her entire body, encasing her from toes to neck in soft, black leather. Dark gauntlets with short, pointed black claws covered her hands, and on her feet, a pair of very expensive black leather knee high boots. Aside from her head, only her throat and the top of her breasts were exposed. Even the back of her neck was protected by the high collar.

She had to admit, her wariness at wearing a leather bodysuit had given way when she saw how unlike her usual dowdy self she looked. She especially liked how the material pushed her relatively average cleavage into something more celebrity-esque. The material was softer than she’d originally anticipated, and not even the constricting tightness bothered her.

She’d wanted to look sexy, but judging from the expression on Mark’s face as he moved to stand behind her, she’d missed something.

Or maybe she shouldn’t have bothered trying to dress to impress.

But then again, she had impressed… at the party at least. A few wandering eyes had definitely given her the once over. But the one who’s eyes she wanted to see giving her the looky-look didn’t seem to think very much of what she was wearing.

In fact, he looked down-right pissed about it.

She just couldn’t understand what the heck she’d done wrong?

“Okay.” She sighed sadly, staring at Mark’s reflection in the glass. “I don’t get it. What’s wrong with it? I thought I looked pretty good?”

“Good?” he coughed.

“Yeah,” she nodded. She raised her hands and looked at the clawed gloves, flipping her palms over before slowly lowering her arms. It had been stupid to think she could pull it off. She shrugged and pursed her lips at her reflective self. “Guess I should have stuck with Bo Peep or something normal, huh.”

“Jilly.”

She hesitated a moment before meeting his gaze.

“Why did you choose this particular costume?” he asked.

Jilly inhaled slowly, tension charged air filling her lungs. She held her breath, debating her answer. Was it worth the potential pain of rejection in telling him the truth? She exhaled, knowing she’d never be able to lie.

“To look… sexy.”

“Sexy,” he repeated.

Jilly nodded once, staring at his reflection. His eyes were so dark she could barely detect any hint of color. Just a deep blackness that was unreadable. She’d wanted to wear it for him. To be slick and sexy for him. To see his reaction when he saw her dressed to kill in form-fitting black leather.

She just hadn’t quite expected this particular effect.

“Why tonight?” He angled his head, his nose almost brushing the side of her neck. His breath was hot against her skin and she fought the automatic shiver.

“It’s a costume. Not real. Pretend.” She stumbled over the words, distracted by the closeness of his body which touched hers in energy only. If she leaned back she would be pressed completely against his entire torso. Her traitorous body swayed and she locked her knees.

“You want to pretend?” he asked.

“No,” she exhaled sharply.

He nuzzled her neck with the tip of his nose. Goosebumps tingled across her body.

“Not. Yes. Sort of,” she mumbled.

“Pretend what?”

“That this is me?” she finally answered.

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, his nose buried in the leather along the back of her neck. “This is you,” he sighed. “And you… smell like leather.”

“Is that… a bad thing?”

“Depends on who’s smelling it.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “Well… you are?”

“Yes,” he opened his eyes and caught her in a deadly stare, “I am.”

He shifted his gaze down to the reflected image of her boots and up again, crossing her legs, her waist, her torso, chest, neck, and back to her face, which was now flushed with both heat and desire. Good gracious leather was warm.

“Someone else looked at you like that tonight?”

She swallowed, her dry throat sticking. “Not… quite like that…”

“So that’s a yes?” he raised an eyebrow.

Jilly couldn’t find her voice. The temperature in the room was definitely increasing – as was her inability to breathe. So she nodded instead.

“Do you know what they’re thinking when they do that?” he asked, lowering his chin until it was almost touching her shoulder, his breath teasing her right ear. “The guys who looked at you like that?”

“No?” She tilted her head to release the shudder rippling down her spine and instantly regretted it when he nipped the side of her neck.

“They are thinking,” he paused, “that you look edible.”

“Oh,” she whispered. Swallowed. Cleared her throat.

“First the boots,” he began, his gaze dropping to the reflection of her lower legs.

Jilly dropped her chin and shifted her weight, sliding her right leg forward. She rotated her ankle, creasing the soft material of the heeled boots.

“They’re picturing you with nothing on but those boots,” he said slowly, “wrapped around them while they drive themselves into you.”

“They are?” She jumped forward with a hiss when his palms landed firmly against her hips.

“You move differently when you’re wearing them.” He pulled her back against him, rocking her hips left and right, pressing his erection against the slope between her cheeks.

“They watch you walk away,” he continued, “your hips sliding while you balance… and they want nothing more than to feel you grinding against them while you scream their name.”

“They do?” She dropped her gloved hands on top of his, pressing the heat of his palms into her hips. She tried to stop his movement but he was much too strong and she was far to weak kneed.

Her arms drooped weekly to her sides.

Mark’s left arm circled her waist. He held her firmly, her back to his front. “When you turn around and grace them with the view from the front, there’s only one thing they’re thinking about when you’re dressed like this.”

“One thing?” Jilly had to force herself not to grind against him. The leather suddenly felt overly tight across her chest. She held her breath when Mark’s free hand brushed down across her hip. He caressed the inside of her thigh, his touch light yet deliberate.

“How many fingers…” he moved his right hand slowly towards the apex of her legs and slipped his middle finger between her tightly pressed thighs, “will fit.”

“Oh lord,” she gasped, shocked to know he was touching that spot while she was standing upright and fully clothed.

“One?” Mark pulled his hand back, paused, then slipped it forward again, riding the seam against her rapidly heating sex. Crooking his finger, he scratched his nail across the material as he withdrew his hand, making her gasp at the tiny vibrations. For a moment, Jilly forgot to breathe. Her hips jerked, adding friction to the motion. He teased his finger forward again, pushing firmly against the leather. With each movement Jilly felt the moisture building between her skin and the material, adding a slick lubrication to the cloth pressed so tightly against her.

Unhurriedly, Mark increased the pressure, pushing up with his hand while he moved his finger forward and back again. “Two?” he asked, adding a second finger beside first. Slowly. Agonizingly. Back and forth, teasing across the soft leather.

Jilly whimpered, grinding against his hand. Her nipples tingled and hardened into peaks, straining their tight nubs in protest at their confinement.

“Three?” Mark added a third finger, not losing pace with the methodical rhythm he’d set.

Jilly couldn’t stop herself from spreading her feet apart, allowing his hand more access, more control. More room, more touch, more pressure, more everything…

“Or maybe four?” Mark’s pinky joined the party.

She arched forward, desperate to grind herself against the heel of his hand but he pulled back before she could connect.

Jilly hissed with frustration, then cursed when Mark rewarded her with the return of all four fingers. “Oh fuck…” she whispered. Her hips bucked involuntarily and she spread her knees, sliding her feet as far apart as she could. She rubbed her very tingling, very wet center against the palm of his hand as it moved rhythmically against her.

It wasn’t enough.

Damn leather!

“Mark…” She moaned, her eyes locked on the sight that beheld her in the mirror. Strength and power coiled around her—enfolding her—locking her in place. Her arms were raised, hands gripping his biceps. Holding him holding her. She stared at their reflection, feeling the image, living the image.

“Oh but then they look up,” he whispered, his lips moving against the side of her jaw. “And they start to wonder…” He stopped and wedged his right hand firmly between her legs, holding her weight. He lifted his free hand towards the exposed valley between her breasts, drawing a heated trail across her exposed skin with his index finger. “They wonder…” he repeated, “they hope… you’re naked underneath.”

Mark reached for the zipper pull and dragged it down to her navel. The leather parted to expose her breasts, but cold metal teeth of the zippers caught on the hardness of her erect nipples. The feel of the cold metal against the sensitive peaks shocked her and she hissed, sucking in air. The motion spread the material further. Cool air swirled across her abdomen, sending a wave of goosebumps prickling across the exposed skin.

Mark swirled his index finger around each peak, taking his time to push the zipper off.

Jilly shifted her weight, leaning into his caress, the combination of his hands, his body, his heat, driving her further towards oblivion. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and index finger, sending a tremor of need it now straight to her toes. He resumed the exquisite pace between her legs, alternating between pressing up with his palm and sliding back with his fingertips.

Jilly groaned in desperation. She hovered on the edge, growing desperate for the final push that would send her over. She needed the clothes gone. Needed his cock inside her. Needed release. Now.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

Jilly complied, not realizing she’d closed them in the first place.

The picture that met her in the mirror was pure sex. She barely recognized the woman looking back at her. Face flush. Legs spread. Half exposed in the middle of the room. Gloved hands clutching the muscular arms of the man pressed so tightly behind her.

“This, Jilly… is who you are. Beautiful. Sexy. Wild.” He kissed the side of her neck. “Now let it go, Jilly,” he whispered. “Give it to me… Now, Jilly…”

With a violent tremor Jilly came hard and fast. Bucking. Clenching. Grinding. She twisted against him. Her head fell back, eyes no longer seeing. Chanting his name she rode her release against the heel of his right hand.

Light feathery kisses paraded along her jaw and down her neck. She shuddered, weak and helpless. If not for his arms she would have surely collapsed.

After a few moments, the darkness lifted and Jilly realized she was staring blindly at his ceiling. She lowered her head and struggled to settle her staggered heartbeat. After a moment Mark straightened away, leaving her abandoned to the chill of the night air. She shivered, immediately feeling the loss of his body heat. She watched him through lowered lashes as he adjusted the top half of her suit, carefully tucking her back into the formed material. He raised the zipper back to its original location, then stepped back.

Jilly swayed, feeling lightheaded and off balance. She inhaled and forced herself to remain still.

A knowing smile pulled at the edges of Mark’s mouth. “So, if you want to go to the party…”

“P-party?” Jilly stammered. “Party. Right.” Her eyes automatically dropped to the overly prominent bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans. That had to hurt.

“You’d let me go? After… after that?” Her attention returned to his face.

He raised his shoulder, no longer bothering to hide his satisfied smirk. “If you want. I won’t stop you.”
Jilly blinked, power in her own make-believe suddenly giving her a flight of fearlessness. She tilted her head. “Alone?”

“If you want.”

She felt the start of a smile tickling her lips and she raised an eyebrow, the challenge met. She took several slow, purposeful steps towards the doorway. The heavy wetness trapped between the leather and her pussy made it incredibly difficult to walk. She shifted her hips, feeling the stickiness slide as she worked on putting one foot in front of the other.

She paused in front of his closed door. “There’s something you forgot to elaborate on earlier,” she said over her shoulder.

“There is?”

Still facing the door, she nodded. “Smell.”

From somewhere behind her, Mark inhaled sharply. “Smell?” he repeated.

She placed her gloved hand on the door handle, “Now I smell like leather… and sex. But… if you still want me to go to the party… with all those guys who according to you, will be wondering how many fingers it takes… and after my boyfriend has clearly left me unsatisfied… alone in a room full of drunk frat boys…” she shrugged and turned the handle, pulling the door wide. “Then I guess I should go.”

She’d barely taken half a half step when his arms circled her from behind. Mark swung her back into the room and kicked the door closed.

“Unsatisfied?” he growled.

“Well…” She grinned, tracing a fingered claw up his bare arm. She smoothed the scratched skin down with the soft leather of her palm. “I guess I could stay… but on one condition.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Jilly grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the corner. Turning him to face the mirror she moved around to the front and dropped to a crouch before him. She trailed her hands up his legs, shopping to rest her palms on either side of the bulge protruding against his zipper.

She leaned forward and bit him through the denim, nibbling her way down to the seam at his crotch. “Now it’s my turn.” she whispered. “Definitely edible.”

Mark swore.

They never made it to the party.