Vixen
He loves the way she watches him, one eyebrow slightly raised, a very un Blair-like smirk on her luscious mouth. He loves the fact that he can see the laughter in her eyes all the way up on stage; and the way that it's mixed with something that looks suspiciously like lust.
He loves how he can't keep his eyes off of her, lingering on her face at times and roaming her body at others. He imagines that she can feel his gaze burning holes through the thin material of her lace slip.
He smiles at her and raises his glass, taking another drink. And another. The rush of alcohol in his bloodstream is all that's holding him together, keeping him in check.
She dances off of the stage and saunters over to stand in front of him. His jaw almost drops as she steals his drink, downing it in a single swallow. She doesn't say anything, just swishes past him to grab her purse and struts to the exit. He notices that she has left her dress (and many other articles of clothing) on the stage and momentarily considers retrieving them for her, but changes his mind and follows her because what else is he supposed to do?
He knows exactly what she is doing; trying to prove that she's not just some innocent little girl, that she knows how to have fun. Mission accomplished, Blair, He thinks. He knows he will never look at her the same way again. He also knows that's going to be a problem, especially next time he sees her in that school uniform.
He is surprised again when she slides into his limo with him.
He is amazed at the fact that she keeps surprising him.
He almost can't wait for the ride to be over because she is sitting so close to him and she smells like perfume and alcohol and he doesn't know how long he'll be able to control himself, especially now that he has all those images of her onstage swimming through his head.
She says something, and he thinks he says something back, but he doesn't really know because all he can focus on is the fact that she's sliding closer to him across the leather.
And then she kisses him. Not that he'd ever admit it to her, but it feels like falling.
He is more aroused than he's ever been in his life. He can't believe that sweet, innocent little Blair is the one to make him feel this way. For something she has very limited experience with, she is amazingly good at it.
All of these thoughts make him realize exactly where this is headed, so he pulls back to ask if she is sure, which he then realizes is very stupid because if she says no he will most likely have blue balls for the rest of his life.
But luckily, she nods and attacks his mouth again, and he is stunned because for the first time ever he really doesn't know how to react.
This is not the Blair he has known since kindergarten, but if he is being totally honest with himself he likes this new Blair better.
He loves the little sounds she is making, and the way her legs come up around his waist with her dress all bunched up at her midsection. He loves how feverish the skin of her chest is pressed tightly against his own and how her hands bravely snake down to his belt and undo it.
He loves how, even though it is her first time, they fit together perfectly; as if they were made for one another.
He hates how sappy this whole thing is making him.