Last Act | Tucker & Ciara
It wasn't arrogance if it was the truth. This time when Tucker reached out, Ciara didn't remain motionless. She angled her head back ever so slightly, granting him a better view of her throat as he ran his crooked finger down it. Even without the physical touch, she could sense how his attention focussed there from the way his gaze lingered. The sharper part of Ciara's mind suspected that the source of that attraction did not lie with a desire to kiss her there, but from curiosity over just how his treatments had affected her. But to dwell on that would render her unable to keep up this dance they were in, and Ciara wouldn't allow herself to trip up now that Tucker had finally expressed overt interest.
Ciara met his gaze directly, leaving no room for doubt that she did believe she was worth it. They were very close now, leaning toward each other as they were, and there was no mistaking the challenge in his invitation. He wanted to be shown what made her so different? Proof of that was already seen in the way he engaged her in conversation, rather than acting as though she was capable of no more than passing him his wine. But a more lasting impression seemed fitting for the birthday boy, given that she had no intention of trying to tempt him upstairs.
Tucker had been at the Palace since noon, and had been drinking all that while. In order to tempt him back, Ciara knew they would need to share an unforgettable experience. Given the copious amounts of wine he had consumed over the past few hours, that would be an almost impossible task. No, instead she would give him something to dwell on after he fell into his own bed and not hers that night.
She rose to her feet and sauntered around to stand before Tucker for a moment, before settling herself onto his lap in one fluid motion. There was no need for any exaggerated wriggle of her hips, the warmth and weight of her body was more than enough to keep his interest. “I obtained a new perfume today,” she murmured conversationally, as if to completely ignore his question. Cœur #9 was Clovennian and as popular as it was elusive. There were benefits to having family involved in the trade of valuable goods, and she would be wearing the fragrance when most everyone else would miss out. Tilting her head back once more, Ciara ran a finger down her throat slowly and deliberately, tracing the path his own finger had trailed only moments before, until her fingertip came to rest at a spot just above her clavicle. “What do you think of it?” It was an echo of his first question to her, and an invitation to close that final distance between them.