Thread: The Manor (Mr. Quixotic & Malicious Lullaby)

Hawthorne was a little buzzed, three glasses of bubbly, and a scotch on the rocks consumed. That may have been the cause of his flirtatious and teasing behaviour, or it could have just been his nature. The admission from Izabel that it was her first night had piqued his curiosity, not to mention that the dress she wore, and what he envisaged lay underneath, aroused more than just that. However, what else had entered the host's mind, was that, if she were not one of the Madame's girls, Izabel shouldn't have been there. Who was the woman, and what was her intent? His gestures the touch of her body, and brush of their lips, had been designed to taunt, and elicit information. That it had been enjoyable at the same time, an additional benefit. How did this stranger worm her way into the manor, apparently without having been required to sign one of the confidentiality agreements he supplied to the Madame. Hawthorne Tisch didn't appreciate surprises that could upset his plans, and the wealth and power contained in the room were of too much importance for the man to take any chances, though he didn't allow his motivations to show in his demeanour. She still intrigued him in other ways, and what was to happen between he and Izabel would be dependent on how the night panned out, and what she revealed. The woman didn't always make the final choice. Fresh drinks ordered, Hawthorne's lips curled into a smile, and his countenance relaxed. The apparent nerves and sincerity with which she'd responded alleviated most of his concerns about ulterior motives, apart from those of which she spoke, and he found himself attracted to her honesty as much as the flesh underneath the black fabric. She was definitely different. Then a change appeared to come over her, and the confidence she gained, either in herself, or as a result of alcohol, became almost a physical presence. When she picked up her chardonnay and leaned in to whisper against his ear, he bit back a gasp of surprise. However, Hawthorne quickly recovered, and the suppressed gasp almost became a chuckle. Not that he found her actions funny, quite the opposite the touch of her lips, breath vibrating against lobe, press of body into his, and sweet scent, caused him to think about throwing her against the bar, hiking up her dress, and taking her right there and then but because he hadn't suspected her capable of them. Yet, he had. The attempt to tease, taunt and seduce in an effort to alleviate his wallet of cash was something Hawthorne regularly dealt with at these events. Izabel's purpose may not have been the same as those other women, but her actions were similar, and the man had learned to maintain control, even when his urges attempted to insist otherwise. His hand found her waist, and he moved forward to press her back against the bar, and stepped in front of her. The movement caused her lips to pull away from his ear, and as his green orbs locked on hers, he held her in place with a firm grip. Is this different enough for you, Izabel? His head tilted, and his gaze roamed the room to let her knew what it was to which he referred, then returned to her face. Just to be here? Or are you going to allow those inhibitions to disappear completely, and select one of these men, these complete strangers, to take you to a room, and ravish you in ways you never could have imagined? The smile on his lips grew, and his breath floated against her face. Are you truly going to let go, or are you not ready for that? Is it enough just to be here in this company, and fantasise about what could be, rather than live it? His free hand moved up to touch her wrist, and tugged the chardonnay glass from her grasp. His body now trapped hers completely, and the fragrant aroma of her perfume engulfed his senses. As if in slow motion, he placed the vessel on the bar, then his hand moved to cup her chin, and gently pulled her head towards his voice now a whisper. It is intoxicating, Izabella, as are you. It's your freshness which attracts me, and it's what would attract the other men, make them want to eat you up, if only they were knew. Don't attempt to be too much like Serafina, or the rest. Be you. The woman you want to be His thumb ran across her lower lip, and fingers caressed her cheek, then one hooked into her mask and drew it back an inch. As much as I'd love to discover what's under the dress, I'd be even more intrigued to see what's under this. His head inclined and his mouth brushed her neck, then as she'd done with him, moved to her ear. Would I see Izabel, or would she have disappeared? Hawthorne grazed her lobe with his teeth, then his lips made their way to her throat. His eyes lifted to meet hers. You know, Serafina should never have invited you, and for that, if the host discovers her deception, she could be punished. With a little nip to the skin of her throat, Hawthorne pulled back with a smile on his face, dropped his touch from her chin, and offered her his hand. Then, some women do so enjoy punishment, don't they Izabel? Care to dance?