Jonas Brothers Imagines/Preferences

Twitter imagines 18

#imagine

"he won't know what to do with himself!" you remember the designer saying, clapping his hands so excitedly.

you laugh at the memory.

"we're pulling up," the driver says, breaking you out of thought. you look over at nick, who hasn't stopped staring at you all night, running his eyes over your body as if he had no other concern but to watch you move in that red, skin tight dress.

he realizes he's staring and looks down, and laughs.

"im sorry, babe," he says, rubbing his forehead. "it's just..." he looks up at you with such an intense gaze, you have no choice but to blush. "are you sure you want to go to these awards? i mean we can just go home and..." his eyebrow lifts, amused.

you laugh. "nick, it's important to be seen at these things for your album."

he sighs, "i guess," you watch the driver get out and begin to open your door. "id just rather see you out of that dress..." he mumbles close so that only you can hear. his hot breath lingers on your neck for only a moment before he gets out of his seat and takes your awaiting open door from the chauffeur.

"my lady," he smiles, helping you get out of the car.

immediately you both are hit by bright flashes, coming from every angle, you have to hold nicks hand just to be sure you won't get too overwhelmed.

"the carpet is coming up," he whispers in your ear. "remember, just smile and walk."

you shake your head, confident.

it's quickly after your fifth or sixth photo that you see nick over in a corner, nudging his head for you to follow him.

you smile for your last photo op, and discreetly disappear behind the tall backdrops lining the red carpet.

you find nick.

"what's wrong? is something a matter?" you say rushed and concerned.

"no, calm down." he soothes, pushing back a strand of your hair that had fallen onto your cleavage.

"i just..." he's staring at you with wild eyes. suddenly you feel him trace the low V of your dress line, feeling his finger brush against your breasts. you hear papparazi from the other side of the curtain, yelling at another celebrity.

"nick" you say, trying to concentrate as he kisses your cleavage, feelings his curls run against your skin.

"you said i had to be seen at this thing... ive been seen, and now it's time to see you..." he bites his lips, pulling down your dress with a hard tug before your breasts emerge, naked and bare above your fallen dress.

adrenaline runs through you, making your breathing heavy.

"maybe..." you try to suggest something but your mind draws a blank as soon as you feel him grip you, licking at your nipples, pushing your waist into his.

"screw it," you say, grabbing ahold of his head and pushing him down onto your breasts.

he has one nipple in his mouth, sucking them raw, biting at the tip, making you run your leg up your other, trying to calm yourself from getting too worked up, too tight.

it's the nervousness of getting caught that makes you feel even better than you do.

"nick, baby," your voice gets shaky feeling his teeth rub back and forth on your breasts. "nick, i," but you can't finish, feeling one hand force it's way down between your body and that dress...what color was it again...you can't seem to remember. you feel his hand push it's way down, stretching your designer outfit until he finds what he's looking for.

you pull his curls in anticpation, and then in a few moments you feel his fingers swim in, making you thrust your hips a little. he scratches playfully at your clit, your skin rises up with goosebumps, before he starts violently rubbing you, making oxygen is a foreign luxury.

Not mine