>>30760The first time I saw the Chrysler Building, I felt it—that slow, liquid heat pooling low in my belly, my breath hitching as my eyes traced its shimmering spire. The way it rose, unashamed and commanding, sent a shiver through me, my thighs pressing together instinctively. The sleek, geometric lines of its Art Deco curves were like a lover’s fingers trailing up my spine—calculated, deliberate, maddening. The sun glinted off its chrome accents, and I swore I could feel it, that decadent glow warming my skin, making my pulse flutter in places I didn’t dare name.
I should have looked away, but I couldn’t—it held me there, breathless, as if it knew exactly what it was doing to me. The lobby’s opulence, the way the light played over its gilded details, was like a whispered promise against my skin. My fingers twitched with the need to touch, to trace every ridged ornament, every sinuous flourish. And when I finally tore my gaze away, my panties were damp, my cheeks flushed. It wasn’t just a building. It was seduction in steel and stone—and I was utterly, helplessly ruined for it.
