❝ If you say so. ❞ There’s cheek in both voice & features, small smirk tugging at her lips ( though hips cant forward, & mouth brushes against his, seeking to seduce ). ❝ You seem in the mood for something particular tonight, Mr. Smith. Would you like some help?❞ Hands yank lightly at his tie, then travel down the front of his blouse, & linger, gently, on his belt.
❝ MAYBE I am. ❞ Words coated in mystery, movements seem to slow down even more so a retaliation for the lingering warmth, the sweet, but so light, press of lips. He takes the rough push forward as a sign and he leans in, finally to a level that must be more approachable given the difference of heights. But his hands find her own, tugging at them, stopping the teasing but the devilish smile on the man’s lips spoke of nothing but teasing. ❝ And how do you imagine you would be able to help me, hm, miss Donnadieu? ❞