Siren's Call
Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.
Summary: She is his siren, the one that calls.
Rated: M (sexual situations)
Her touch sent chills down his spine. With one, simple gesture, her fingertips set his skin ablaze as if someone had lit an inferno throughout his body, which licked wildly at every muscle.
"Here," She steps up, her hand holding a glass flute filled with champagne.
Chuck takes the glass and feels her hand waver before pulling back, her lips already pressed onto her own glass as she tips it back and drinks a mouthful of the golden liquid. When she finishes, her lips are slightly red from pressing too hard against the glass. And he can no longer take it. Those lips needed to be kissed. That skin needed to be pampered and teased.
Before she can place her glass down on the tabletop where they stood at a charity benefit, he grabs her hand and guides her toward the halls; an empty room filled with barely any light except for the sliver coming from the threshold.
"Chuck, what is it?" Blair asks innocently, but he knows what really goes on in that mind. She is just as much aware of her body's wants as his.
Instead of answering with words, he crashes his mouth to her lips before venturing down to her neck while she gasps for air that has suddenly escaped her. "Answering to your call, lover." He bites her lower lip and drawls it into his mouth. She moans, hands cascading down his shirt. She wants to touch flesh.
Ripping open the thousand-dollar white collared shirt, Blair kisses his neck as he hikes her body onto his, her dress bunched at her waist. Warm hands cupping her panty-clad ass, he presses her to a nearby wall and gives into temptation. Into her body made of pearls and silk.
For when his siren calls, he always answers.