Page 19 of Allure
“You look like a whore in that, Syra.”
“Go change. No one wants to see that. You look fat.”
“You let yourself go. You were sexier when you were younger.”
“Those stretch marks won’t go away, will they?”
“I guess it’s another flaw to add to the list.”
Syra closed her eyes and took a couple of long breaths to ease the storm her mind was trying to conjure up. She tried to remember that although those taunts had come from her own voice, they didn’t truly belong to her. Those seeds of doubt and insecurity had been planted there from her fights with Joel. It was his voice those cruel words had belonged to once upon a time, and she wished walking away from him had erased the hold his words had on her, but they always found ways to sneak through her defenses.
Syra should have been looking at the full-length mirror in awe of herself, but she was ready to pick apart everything that was wrong with her body in the dress. The way her skin hung over the crisscross design or the way her stomach seemed a little extra bloated because of the snug fit. She knew if she turned around she would see the cellulite on the back of her legs—even though she was already in heels, and they gave extra added length and muscle definition to the front and sides of her legs. She knew her stomach and hips bore stretch marks that weren’t faint enough to hide under any light.
“You look fine, Syra. Your friends didn’t lie to you when they said you looked hot,” she whispered to her reflection, hating that her insecurities were running wild and trying to make her cave in on herself. She never used to be like this—never used to stare at herself and nitpick everything that wasn’t up to par with someone else’s standards. She looked human. She knew logically everyone had rolls, stretch marks, and cellulite; it happened. It didn’t define her worth, but the longer she stared at herself, the harder it was to be reminded of the truth.
“Thank Syra for that one.” The sound of her name caught her attention. Her gaze lingered on her reflection a moment longer before she shook herself and headed toward the kitchen where Delilah and Kat sat.
She tugged on her dress as she moved. The thickness in her legs and ass made the material rise every time she walked. The dress reminded her of the outfit she wore to the club six months ago—the night she found herself in Marco’s bed again.
Syra’s breath hitched and her footing became unsteady as memories of that night made her body flush. Marco was a welcomed distraction from her earlier thoughts but still dangerous to her wellbeing. She tried to shake the memory of his touch against her skin while Asli watched, but it lingered in the air, submerging her back in time.
“Strip for me. Let me see what I’ve missed, what I’ll get to touch and taste tonight.”
“Here?” she whispered.
“Yes, here. Show my neighbor what he’s missing being over there.”
Syra never thought she’d be turned on by having someone’s gaze on her while she sought her own pleasures. She enjoyed the occasional public sexcapades, but that had been more about not getting caught than the idea of anyone watching. But the way she felt with Asli’s eyes on her skin as surely as if he were touching her along with Marco—watching the way he fed his cock to the woman he was—made her ache even now. Both Marco and Asli had starred in too many sex dreams and helped her climax around her vibrator, and it always involved Asli watching her before he joined Marco or Marco watching her while Asli fucked her.
“But that wasn’t going to happen,” she murmured to herself as she got closer to Delilah and Kat. She and Marco drew their respective lines, and it kept Marco and Asli on one side while she remained on the other. The smart thing to do was to keep emotions out of their business relationship.
And yet you can’t stop fantasizing about them. How soon until that fantasy becomes a reality?
“Seems Garrison Inc wanted to entice us with what they could offer when we sign the contract,” Kat murmured.
Syra held on to the ends of her dress as she walked farther into the kitchen. The short walk had raised the material to just underneath her ass. She had to forgo undergarments again because of the dress design—she felt the warm air of Delilah’s home against every inch of her body, and she made a mental note to actually go shopping. Everything she owned consisted of things she could get dirty whenever she decided to create art again. She didn’t have too many fancy clothes—at least nothing Delilah deemed appropriate for this party. Syra needed her own clothes so she could stop borrowing them from her friends. Both Delilah and Kat were shorter than her by a lot. If something was short on Delilah, it was going to be indecent on Syra, which explained the current predicament of the dress she wore now.
“Stop fidgeting. The dress looks fine,” Delilah grumbled, her eyes narrowing on her when she came into the kitchen.
“I’m not fidgeting, my ass is a step away from showing.” Syra huffed out a breath as she walked behind the kitchen stool Delilah was on to wave at Raven.
“That’s the point,” Delilah chuckled. “Why do you think we got this invite? My guess is Marco and Asli are eager to see what type of activities entice Syra.”
Syra felt her face flush, and she tugged at her dress once more when she saw the same smile spread across her friends’ faces. What Delilah was insinuating made her feel flustered and off-kilter considering where her mind had gone only moments ago.
Marco and Asli touching and tasting every inch of her skin.
“That’s it, estrellita. Show Asli what a good girl you can be. Open your legs and show him that pretty pussy.”
Syra’s hand flew to her stomach as she swayed on her feet. Her pulse echoed in her body and she felt it everywhere, especially in between her legs. This was getting out of hand; the desire to crawl into Marco’s lap and whisper all the fantasies running through her head made her breath catch. She wasn’t really sure what was driving her need to have him and Asli. Marco promised they wouldn’t dive back into old patterns, and he stayed on his side of the line she’d drawn. Outside of the comment he made about the party at Orchard Tree when they met with Esme, their time together had been brief.
In fact, once they signed the contracts, she hadn’t seen or spoken to him. Any and all contact had gone through Asli, which she was a little grateful for since Asli was too charming to only focus his attention on her. He flirted with Delilah and Katrina as well; the interactions were harmless, but could she say the same about his interaction with her?
“Has anyone ever told you how expressive you are? All your thoughts are written all over your face.” Asli’s voice was thick with amusement as he circled her, bringing in material Katrina needed. He had his sleeves rolled up, showcasing his tan arms and the veins that pulsed every time his grip on the materials tightened.
“What…what are you talking about?” she stumbled over her words, her gaze glued to his hands, wondering what it would feel like to have them on her skin. He was an artist like her, but his skill set also included building things from scratch.
“Little star,” he murmured as he put the material down and closed the distance between them. He took up all the space in the room. The noise that surrounded them was now no louder than a whisper, and the light cinnamon scent that coated his skin made her lick her lips, wishing she could taste him.
