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She gathered her skirt at her waist and offered him a clear view of her white lace thong—from the front.
“But I know you’ve always liked the view from the back,” she said, turning around.
“Sweet Jesus,” he murmured.
She glanced over her shoulder and watched as he stared at the thin strip of white lace disappearing between her naked cheeks. “A little different from at the bar?”
“Tell me what you want, Natalie,” he said, his tone wavering between begging and demanding. He stared at her, his blue eyes roaming over her body. And she knew he was waiting for her to offer more—beyond the rose petals and silk ties.
“I want to star in your story.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jack focused on her words—I want to star in your story. He was determined to prove that he could be more than the guy who offered bondage-filled fantasies, more than her friend and sometimes-lover. And shit, he was determined to win the head-to-head battle with that dress.
Seeing the full skirt bunched around her waist, knowing he could unravel the material at her waist, loosen the rope at her back, and use her clothes to tie her to the bed…
But not tonight. Right now he needed to feel her trust here in the room with them giving life to their future. One day, they’d use her dress, and maybe the black silk ties she brought.
He stole a quick glance at her purchase from Sizzling Secrets. When he’d introduced the fantasy, he’d reached for a mental picture that would turn them on. And he’d freaking loved the way she responded to his words. But the fact that she’d listened and gone out of her way to transform a piece of his fantasy into a very real possibility? He hoped like hell that was a sign they’d steered clear of clusterfuck territory.
“Jack?”
He looked back at her and watched as she widened her stance. God help him if she bent over.
“I want my story,” she said, her voice so damn sexy.
He drew a deep breath. “How to F… How to Make Love to—”
“You can say fuck, Jack,” she said with a soft laugh.
“How to Fuck a Princess.” He stepped over the roses and moved behind her. His dick pressed against her as his hands slipped under her raised dress. “Part One.”
“It’s part of a series?” she asked, leaning into him.
“Yes.” He toyed with the elastic band of her underwear before hooking his thumbs underneath and slowly drawing the slip of white lace down her legs. He knelt by her ankles and said, “Step out.”
“How many parts?” she asked, lifting first one foot and then the other. “Sometimes it is nice to know before you start a series when you’ll reach the conclusion.”
“This one could go on for a long time,” he admitted, tossing her underwear aside. He stood and reached for her, running his hands over her bare skin to the knotted material at the back of her dress. “I don’t have an ending planned.”
“That’s good,” she murmured. “I recently realized I have an irrational fear of endings.”
His hands froze on her dress. “Still expecting the worst?”
She drew a shaky breath. “Not this time. It’s possible. But I’m trying to focus on the good parts.”
“Good.” Relief rushed in and his fingers started to move again.
“Jack, how does your story start?”
“Once upon a time, there was a prince.” He loosened the knot, and holding one piece in each hand, began to unwind the twisted fabric running up her back.
“Always a good beginning,” she murmured as his hands brushed her shoulder blades.
“A prince who found a princess working in a bar.” He held the ties to her dress, one in each hand. If he let go, the front would drop to her waist.
“Do all of your stories involve bartenders?” she teased, interrupting the mental picture of her bare breasts.
