As delicious as that sounded, she wanted to arrive calm and still put together, rather than already in a fevered frenzy. Especially given what she was wearing. Under her cranberry-red dress, a silky number that hugged her curves, she wore the peach lingerie and Jack’s gift.
When she’d opened the pretty black shopping bag at her apartment she wasn’t surprised to find a white box with the silver J embossed on it. Still, the possibilities of what it might be thrilled her. She’d held the bag close in the elevator, holding onto her naughty secret, then tighter still as she walked down her hall until she reached 7E, where she lived. Once inside, she’d opened it with eager fingers, so damn curious and admittedly, already turned on, to see what he’d given her.
After showering, blow-drying her hair, and applying make-up, she’d put on the gift underneath her panties.
She’d never felt so sexy in her life, knowing he wanted her to wear it on their date.
Now, anticipation threaded through her, like a plume of smoke from a genie’s lamp. A promise of wishes coming true. Of pleasure enveloping her. The driver pulled up at Lincoln Center and her gaze landed on the gorgeous fountain in the middle of the plaza, water shooting up in arcs, lit up like fireworks as the sprays cascaded. She’d been here many times for shows and events, but the fountain always awed her with its beauty.
The driver opened her door, and she grabbed her clutch purse, then she thanked him before he drove off. She gathered a bit of fabric from the dress in her hand so she could walk up the steps more easily, even as the toy rubbed against her from inside her panties. Her Louboutins clicked against the stones as she joined the sea of art lovers—men in tuxes and suits, women in formal dresses and gowns, milling about on a warm evening, waiting to see the ballet, to watch a play, to listen to the New York Philharmonic play a Brahms symphony.
She scanned the crowds for Jack, hunting out his dark hair, his chiseled jawline, his dark blue eyes, and his strong body. She’d know him anywhere, the feel of him, the shape of him, the cut of his shoulders, the trim lines of his waist. How his suits and shirts and pants hung on him so well. But he was nowhere to be seen. She turned in a circle, laughing to herself because her twirl was timed to a string quartet playing several feet away. An older couple ambled past her, the woman with her hand clasped around the man’s forearm. Across the plaza, couples and families made their way into the Vivian Beaumont Theater to see a Sondheim revival. On the other side of the fountain, a young woman in a form-fitting dress sat with a man in a suit who was making her laugh.
Michelle looked once more for Jack, checking her watch. He said to meet her at 7:50 at the fountain, and it was 7:51. Jack was an on-time kind of guy. Most military, active or not, were pretty damn punctual, so she was surprised.
Then her breath hitched, and she clasped her hands over her belly, as if that would somehow hide her reaction. She did her best to stay still even as the silent vibrations sped up ever so briefly between her legs. Holy hell, this wearable butterfly was stronger than she’d expected.
As quickly as it started, the sensation stopped, fading away in an instant.
Michelle surveyed the plaza again, making a quick lap around the fountain, but Jack was still not in sight. She wanted to see him and wanted him to know that one quick burst of pleasure from the remote control was already working, ratcheting up her longing for him. But she could only wait until he appeared or did it again. She walked through the crowds to the middle of the plaza, weaving through the throngs of people when the rattling began anew. She nearly stopped in her tracks because the pleasure was so intense, the quick hit of buzzing on her most sensitive spot from the butterfly inside her panties.
A flurry of tingles ignited in her belly, spreading rapidly through her chest.
The buzzing grew stronger, and the intensity of the vibration was centered completely on her clitoris. She drew another sharp, silent breath, swallowed and turned around, coming face to face with a wickedly grinning Jack Sullivan. The man was beautiful—so stunning in a tailored suit that fit him like a dream, a crisp white shirt, and a thin black tie that she wanted to grab, and use to tug him close to her. But she didn’t dare move. He was a man who cherished control, and since he did so many amazing things to her with it, she’d let him keep having it. That was the bargain, and it was a fair trade, because she trusted him with her pleasure. He loved to give it, but he also loved to control it. She could handle her half of that deal.
He held up his right hand, pressed on something with his thumb and flashed a satisfied smile. As soon as he hit the device in his hand, the buzzing stopped. She missed it; she wanted to grab hold of the remote, and bring that feeling back before it escaped her.