“I’ll see you soon.” I end the call and try not to break the phone.
“I think this is the one,” she announces. I sit forward, my phone in my hands between my knees, and growl low. “You don’t like it?”
“Like isn’t the word I would use,” I rasp. The dress is made of silky black fabric that hugs every subtle curve. It’s draped over her breasts, and two thin straps hold the fabric up. Her toned leg flashes through the long slit. “It’s perfect.” I stand and walk closer.
“I love it,” she says, turning toward the mirror. I tilt my head. Her back is bare. The skirt of the dress is tight around her hips.
“You’re stunning,” I rumble, dragging my finger down her spine. She shivers and leans into my touch. I wrap her hair lightly in my fist. “You need shoes.” I press against her back and kiss her shoulder.
“I didn’t see any,” she whispers.
“Don’t move,” I order and step away. I made sure there were several pairs that would go with any dress she chose. Leaning down, I pick up a red pair placed against the wall behind the racks, and dangle them from my fingers. “Put these on.” I stop next to her, and she takes them.
“They're so pretty.” She grins and starts to walk away.
“No.” I grab her elbow. “You can slip them on. Hold on to me.” She doesn’t question me. I release her arm, and she wraps her fingers around my bicep. Lifting her foot, she slips on one shoeand then the other. “Look.” Gripping her hips, I turn her to face the mirror.
“Are you going to take a picture?” she asks.
“Not this time. They can be surprised.” I press close again.
“We look good together,” she says.
“We certainly do,” I say, sliding my hand across her waist. My black suit and burgundy shirt match well. “I want you to take it off.” She meets my gaze in the mirror. “I don’t want to wrinkle it.” She holds my eyes and reaches for the zipper on the side. I step back, removing my arm. I love that she doesn’t question my demands, and I smell her interest. The dressing area can’t be seen from the windows. I made sure the cameras were shut off. The owner knows if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be in business anymore. “What is your word?” I ask as she slides the fabric down her legs.
“Ballet.” She steps out of the dress and gathers the fabric in her hands.
“Face the mirror,” I say softly, taking the dress and draping it over my arm. I wait until she turns, then walk to the rack and hang it up. She's wearing a matching blue lace bra and panties. “Is this what you usually wear?” I circle her, tracing the edge of the lace across her stomach.
“No.” She smiles. “I wanted to be prepared.”
“Prepared for me?” I ask, stopping behind her.
“I thought you would like it,” she whispers.
“I love it,” I hum, sweeping my gaze over her. “Did you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” she says.
“We have some time before we meet at the restaurant.” I slowly continue to circle her. “We're having an early dinner, so we aren’t there during the busy hours. My brothers are dressing up for you. We wanted to take you on a date. I want to show you my business and feed you.” I pause in front of her.
“That’s so sweet,” she says.
“It may be, but the things I want to do to you are not,” I rumble.
“I like that just as much.”
“Mmm…” I circle her throat. “I hope so.”
“Try me.” She pushes into my hand, lifting her chin, and I smile.
“Take off your bra,” I command, flexing my fingers. She reaches behind her back, her hands steady, doing what I want. The lace falls to the floor, and she stands proud. “Thank you, baby.” I release her neck and drag my hand down between her gorgeous breasts. “Your skin is so soft. Unmarked.” I continue, traveling to her stomach, and her breathing quickens. “Don’t move.” I ease down, crouching, and slide my fingers under the edge of her panties. As I pull, her scent grows stronger. I don’t have to ask her to lift her feet; she does it eagerly, and I make sure not to snag the lace on her heels. “I want to fuck you in nothing but these sexy heels.”
“Yes, Sir,” she moans.
“I love that,” I hiss. She knew my preference without me voicing it. I press two fingertips to her ankle, leaving them to travel as I stand. Once I meet her eyes, I thrust them inside her.
“Shit,” she cries, grasping my arm.
