Page 33 of Forever After Fall

It was the first night I had to confront how protective I was over her. How much I saw her as mine to keep safe, whether it was true or not. Realizing when I got home the kind of things I would have done to have those ruby-red lips pressed against mine. It’s a stark reminder of where we stand now.

I can’t have her. Not really. However much she jokes about the threat of it. My job isn’t to steal her off the path she’s on; it’s to make her feel sexy again. Wanted. Cared for. Those things I can do easily. But selfishly I want more. I want to feel like some part of this is for me too.

Her eyes light with recognition when she takes the costume from me, glancing up at me and then back down at the dress.

“This one’s more expensive. Nonrefundable.” Her business tone is back, like I’m the stranger again.

“Good.” I like the sound of permanent right now as I follow her to the makeshift changing room at the back of the place. It’s a cordoned-off corner with a metal rod that holds a velvet curtain just short of a couple of feet off the ground. It’s empty right now except for the chair sitting in the corner and a small rack to hold discarded items. “I’ll wait out here.” I move to lean against the wall, but her hand wraps around mine, and she tugs me inside.

“Sit.” She nods at the chair, and I follow her orders. This is becoming a habit. Me doing what she says. Or maybe it always has been. I don’t mind when it’s her. She never asks for more than I’m willing to give. If anything I wish she’d ask for more.

She pulls the green velvet drape shut behind her, and it blocks out the bright light of the shop, drenching us in the warm hues of the sconce on the wall next to the vintage mirror. She’s used antiques from her shop to decorate this room, and it feels like we’re being transported back to a time when me watching her undress at noon in the middle of her store would have had steeper consequences.

When her jeans slip down her legs, exposing her bare skin and the cute little pair of pale-purple panties she’s wearing underneath, I’m not entirely convinced this is any different. She toes out of her shoes, and her bare feet hit the old wood floors beneath her. Floors I refinished for her before she opened this place.

“Can you open that for me, please?” she asks as she pulls her top over her head, grabbing an empty hanger off the rack. There’s none of her former shyness at being in a compromising position with me. It’s raw confidence she has right now. Who she really is when Chris isn’t here to wear off her shine and make her feel small. I feel like I’m getting fresh glimpses of the woman I’ve always known is still there under the surface.

I pull the dress out of the packaging along with a pair of white thigh-highs, a set of garters, and two blue bows.

“You gonna put your hair in braids again?” I hold them up, a smirk on my face as I say it.

“Do you want my hair in braids?” she asks as she unzips the dress and slips in. She turns her back to me and bends to sit on the edge of my lap. “Zipper, please.”

I’ve lost all train of thought as I grab the zipper to pull it up. It feels like a crime to be putting clothes back on her right now, but I do as she asks. It earns me the loss of her as she stands, turns, and puts her right foot on my left thigh.

“Stocking, please.” She nods to the gauze-like thigh-high draped over my other leg. I take it, bunching it down until I can get it over her toes and then her heel. I make slow work of dragging it up over her ankle and her leg. Her lashes lower as her eyes stay trained on my hands.

I pause when I get to the top of her right thigh, my thumb brushing a slow circle over her skin. I want to drift higher, test to see if I’ve managed to get her wet in the middle of her workday. Because she has me hard as fuck right now.

“Garters,” she murmurs after a long moment of letting me tease her with slow northward progress. She puts the second thigh-high on herself before she reaches down and grabs for the belt, shimmying into it slowly, and then raking her eyes over me. They land hard on my lap. It’s obvious how much I want her right now, and she rolls her lower lip between her teeth.

“Can you snap this on?” She slips her knee in between mine, and it brushes against my inner thigh. I can feel it in my dick, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to recenter myself. I clear my throat and reach for the garter, pinching the clip together and dragging the top of the stocking up to meet it. I repeat the process on the other side, her eyes following every slow movement of my fingers.

“There we go.” I state the obvious when I’m done.

She steps back to let me have a full view, turning in one quick swirl of the dress that leaves almost nothing to the imagination.

“What do you think?” she asks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer.

“I think I could spend all day watching you.” The admission might be more honest than I should allow, but fuck if it isn’t the truth.

“I have a better idea,” she whispers as her eyes flash to the clock. She hits her knees before I know what’s happening, and she’s undoing my belt before I can get a word out. “We have to be quick because my lunch break will be over soon.”

“Bristol,” I breathe out her name as she pulls down the zipper and wraps her hand around me. Her palm is warm, and she’s gentle as she gives my dick one stroke before looking up at me to confirm this is something I want. It’s on the tip of my tongue to beg her for her mouth before my brain kicks in.

I would never fucking do this in the normal course of my life. It’s too reckless. I have a reputation to uphold. A company to run. Business to handle in a small town that wouldn’t be helped by me getting blown in a sex toy shop on my lunch break, let alone being with my son’s aunt dressed in a gingham costume dress that’s so fucking short I can almost see her panties when she leans forward. I feel depraved even considering it.

But one look at her face, the way her eyes light as she gives me a wicked little smile, and I’m a fucking goner. How many chances like this will I get in a lifetime? If history serves, it’s exactly one. So I’m taking it.

“I’m gonna make a mess of that dress,” I warn her.

“You can try.” She lifts a brow and then leans down to take a taste of me, her tongue swirling over the tip of my dick.

“Fuck…” I groan, my eyes shuttering as I lean back in the chair, gripping the armrests to keep myself steady.

Her lips wrap around me, and she takes another tentative taste before she sets to the task of making me lose all ability to speak. Her right hand works over me in tandem with the bob of her head and the soft dance of her tongue touching every inch of me. She’s messy with the way she licks and sucks, and as much as I love the sight of her, I close my eyes again to listen to the sounds. They echo off the walls of this room. The wet slide of her lips up and down my dick, the murmuring of praise, and my favorite fucking part—the soft moans she’s making when she takes me deep. So deep I might never come back from it.

Her fingers dig into my right thigh as I jerk my hips involuntarily, and my dick bumps the back of her throat. My eyes snap open, and hers are watering, but it’s not with complaint. She’s still going, taking me again and pushing her limits while I do my best not to move. There’s a flash of skin in the mirror, and I see the full tableau of us reflected there. Her on her knees in front of my chair, the slow bob of her head up and down and the way her skirt is riding up so high that I can absolutely see her panties now. The lace trim hugs her upper thighs, and the curve of her cheeks makes me want to bury my face between them. But I can’t see what I want.