My Brain is Jackin'

Eye No How 2 Undress Me

My lips grazed against soft caramel, warmth radiating from the surface as I passed. Breath quickening beneath me as he contracted his muscles, allowing his skin to tighten over each lovely ripple. Placing my cheek against him I inhaled, he always smelled heavenly. Faint bursts of lilac and amber with subtle smoky hints lingering secretly below the floral. The tip of my nose edged across the dark hair that lined his lithe frame. Sensations from the slight tickle made my lips slip into a smile against him. Quickly darting out my tongue I rim the crevice of his bellybutton with the end of my tongue, and a faint moan escapes him. Ohhh, you like that. Smoothing my palms over the supple cobalt fabric that clings to his legs, I marvel at the firmness of his thighs. My tongue now focused on the slight ridge of his hip bone as it disappears underneath the stiff fabric of his low slung waistband. With my finger I dot the lone freckle hovering just under his rib cage, as if it were punctuating perfection.

"Grace... Grace..." A deep voice boomed above me, calling out an unrecognizable name. The acerbic tone as he spoke a name that didn't belong, ripped me out of my own thoughts instantly. Shit, I've gotta stop doing this! Giving a quick huff, the slight fur lining his stomach ruffled. His black and white polka dot shirt casually unbuttoned exposing the wonderful flesh that had so wrapped my mind a few moments before. My eyes focused up as I took in the sound. His full lips slid into a crooked grin as if he just discovered a secret. A pair of brown eyes laced with green and gold stared down, his brow furrowed in annoyance. Once again the name "Grace" poured from his lips requesting a response.

"My names not Grace." I mumbled quickly taking a pin out of my mouth and placing it through the blue fabric of his trousers with ease.

"I know, but you look like a Grace." He taunted.

Bending down I roll my eyes at that sentiment. How anyone can look like a name was beyond me. God, he smells so good. Been working for this man for two years and every few months he would try out a new name to see if one would get a rise more than the other. Last time it was Joy, this time it was Grace, who knows what it would be next time. Again he called the name to grab my attention as I pretended to busy myself with the hem of his left leg.

"Maybe I'd answer if you called me by my real name." Looking up as I knelt down in front of him, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. His lips look amazing. Glistening pink as he rolled his tongue over their fullness, that mischievous curl in the corner never wavering. I closed my lids as if to erase the image from my mind. He's your boss, honey.

"Am I paying you to work or am I paying you to sleep?" He asked snidely the bass slipping from his voice as it caught the question.

Fluttering my eyes open, I greet his again. "Well it is 3am, sir." What kind of person calls to get their inseam taken care of at 1:30am? This was something he did constantly and the responsibility always seemed to land on my damn shoulders. Pulling me out of my warm ass bed to get dressed to the 9s to come and tug at the textiles he obsessed over. What did it matter by next year he would have a completely different wardrobe and concept anyway.

"It ain't 3 yet and don't call me sir." Looking at the thin black band that encircled his wrist he reaffirms the time. Like 15 minutes till makes a huge bit of difference.

"Well then don't call me Grace." Fell out of my mouth quickly in defiance. Should not have said that. Biting my lip in punishment, I slid in a few more pins for safe keeping... my mouth shut. Maybe if I don't talk, I won't get fired tonight. He chuckled faintly and begun to tug at the delicate skin of my earlobe, fingernails grazing the sensitive area behind. A shiver ran down my spine at his touch, he always made me nervous. This was his way of assuring me that he took my temperament in strides. "Quit fidgeting." I mumble through the pins my mouth grasped, and his hands fell loose from my flesh. There was a tinge of regret as his fingers left me.