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Then it's cocktail dresses. The first is backless and black. It's smooth. Sleek. Expensive.
Ashleigh takes a long look at me. She cocks her head to one side, assessing me.
It's weird. I feel like a doll.
But I also feel like I'm on America's Next Top Model, waiting for the judges to assign a look for my makeover.
You'd look fierce with highlights. We need to bring out those eyes of yours. Sometimes they look green. And sometimes they look blue. But they always look gorgeous. And I want them to pop.
"What do you think?" she asks.
I take in my reflection. The dress is beautiful. It hangs off my slim body, creating the illusion of soft curves.
I usually curse my slender frame. Between running and stress non-eating, I stay pretty thin.
It's a popular look in Manhattan, but it leaves me lacking in the T&A department.
"I love it," I say.
She beams. "Perfect. Let's stick with this for the party. Black is always classy. Blake gave me specific instructions. He wants to make sure you're comfortable with your wardrobe. I have another dozen dresses for you. And a bunch more casual wear. Or you can start looking yourself."
I don't know anything about clothes. I should accept her help. I should learn how to accept help. "Let's see them."
She smiles. "Excellent." She calls out to the main room, where Blake is waiting. "Mr. Sterling, we're going to be a while. You may want to get a coffee."
"I'll wait," he calls back.
She shakes her head. Lowers her voice. "He always needs everything just so." She steps backwards. "Strip for me, sweetheart. I'll be right back."
I nod. It's strange, stripping for a stranger, but I'm getting used to it.
I strip and hang the dress.
A few moments later, Ashleigh returns. She helps me into another dress. A long, purple one, with a deep v-neckline.
It's racy. Sexy. Daring.
It's the kind of person I want to be. "I love it."
She smiles. "Perfect. But I do need a few more, ahem, conservative things. Mr. Sterling's sister is very…"
"Judgmental?"
She nods. "Keep that between us. Even if he knows better than anyone."
She helps me into the next dress—powder pink chiffon, knee length, fitted, scoop neckline. She points to a pair of strappy silver sandals.
I step into them and take in my reflection.
God, it's like something out of a dream. Like I'm Cinderella getting ready for the ball.
Ashleigh tilts her head, taking me in again. She motions to my hair. "What about this?"
"What about it?" I've never done anything with my hair. It just hangs there. Limp, flat, refusing to hold a curl. It's not a particularly pretty shade of medium brown, but it's not bad either. It suits my complexion.
"We can style all sorts of fun updos. Ponytails are always chic. Or a bun. Or we could try something bolder. These dresses, they're loud. You want your hair and makeup as loud. Do you know how to do makeup?"
Uh… "A little."
"I'll make an appointment for you. For lessons."
"No. I'll schedule it." That actually sounds fun. I can take Lizzy. She's way more into girly stuff.
"Perfect." Ashleigh motions to my dress. "Strip for me again, sweetie. I have more for you."
I do.
She leaves and returns with another outfit. A regular outfit. Or rich people regular. Designer jeans. A cashmere sweater. A camisole that costs more than all my shoes combined.
I try it on. Then another similar outfit. Then another.
We go like that forever. An hour at least. Or maybe two.
By the time I'm done, I'm tired and hungry. My dreams of judges complimenting my smize (a smile with your eyes) are gone. I am a doll. I exist for someone else's benefit.
She pulls my dress too tight.
"I got it," I snap.
She bites her lip and forces a smile. Difficult customer. "Maybe you'd like to talk to Mr. Sterling."
"Okay." Maybe I'll ask why I need a new wardrobe. Even though I know the answer.
She leaves and returns with him.
The space is too small for the three of us.
But then I want him closer.
I want every inch of him pressed against every inch of me.
Blake's eyes find mine. "Take half an hour, Ashleigh."
"Mr. Sterling, your lunch meeting—"
"I have time."
She clears her throat. "You have thirty minutes. Exactly."
"Go." He shoots her a demanding look.
She obeys.
So I guess I'm not the only woman in his life who follows orders.
He pulls the curtain closed behind her.
The entire dressing room is reserved for us.
It's just me and Blake here.
Even so, I feel exposed.
Blake's fingers graze my hips.
He turns me around so I'm facing the dressing room's mirror.
I watch the reflection as he unzips my dress. It slides off my shoulders and falls to the floor.
Here I am, nearly naked, and he's fully dressed.
He has all the power here.
It doesn't annoy me.
It makes my sex clench.
"What are we…" I sigh as his fingers graze my lower back. "What are we doing?"
"We have thirty minutes."
"To…"
"You're not that naive, Kat. You know exactly what I'm doing."
"Oh."
"I'm not going to fuck you."
My teeth sink into my lip. I can't believe how badly I want him fucking me in this tiny dressing room. It's driving me wild.
"But I am going to make you come." He unhooks my bra and slides it off my shoulders. "Now plant your hands on the mirror and do exactly what I say."
Chapter Six
My heart thuds against my chest.
I force myself to face the mirror.
To plant my palms against the slick surface.
"Watch." He strokes my cheek with the back of my hand.
I stare back at his reflection. I watch as he drags his fingertips down my neck, across my chest, over my sides.
He moves closer.
His lips brush my neck.
A soft kiss.
Then he's sucking on my skin.
He drags his hands over my stomach, my chest, my thighs.
Slowly, his hands settle on my breasts.
He toys with my nipples with his thumbs.
He draws a line of kisses up my neck and over my shoulders.
Then he's pressing his crotch against my ass.
He's hard.
I can feel him through his slacks. Though my panties. And I want that. I've never touched a guy before. Not below the waist.
But I want my hands around him.
I want him in my mouth.
Inside me.
I want him in ways I've only read about.
Fuck, his fingers feel good on my skin.
I lean into his touch.
Soak up every flick of his thumbs. Every soft circle. All the heat of his mouth.
Pleasure pools in my body. His touch makes me achy. I shift my hips, rubbing my ass against his crotch until he's groaning.
His hands go right to my hips. "Stay."
The command makes my sex clench.
I nod. I want to stay for him. I want to follow every one of his orders.
He drags his hands over the waistband of my panties. Then lower. Lower. Lower.
He strokes me, pressing the silky fabric against my clit. It's smooth. Slick.
Too smooth.
Too soft.
I need more. Harder. Everything.
But he's patient.
I arch my back a half inch. It presses his hand against me. But it's not enough.
He doesn't relent.
He keeps his touch soft. Slow.
He gets me shaking.
Panting.
Finally, he
slides my panties to my knees.
I kick them off my feet.
I'm naked.
And he's dressed.
And the sight of us makes me wetter. Hotter.
He makes eye contact through the mirror. "You're nervous."
"A little."
"Do you remember what I said last time?"
"You said a lot of things."
"Not true." He smiles. Just barely.
"A few things." I take a deep breath and study his expression. It doesn't offer any insight. "About the terms or about how if I want something, you'll give it to me? But last time, you sent me home. I know I didn't ask, but you obviously knew."
"Kat."
I bring my gaze back to his. "Yeah?"
"What do you want?"
A shiver passes through me. "You."
He places his palm on my lower back. "How?"
"You said we're not having sex."
"I said I'm not fucking you right now."
My lips press together. I hate this edict. It's awful.
"But I will. Tonight."
"So…"
"How do you want to come, Kat? On my lips? On my hand? On yours?"
"Uh…" I try to find the words to respond, but I can't. I'm too caught up in his dirty talking. How does he do that?
