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When our hips meet, he drops his forehead to mine and exhales on a low groan. “You really have the best ideas. I was worried about having to wait until the end of the night to get inside you.”
“At least now my dress has a hope of making it from my body to the floor in one piece later.” I pull his mouth to mine and he moves over me with slow strokes that gain speed as he gets closer to release. I have to brace my hand on the door behind my head to keep from sliding up with each thrust. And when I come, again, I turn my face into his neck to muffle my moan.
I barely have my blouse buttoned again when the car comes to a stop. As it is, I have to rush to put my panties back on and smooth my skirt down, while Jackson tries to hide his wrinkled shirt behind his suit jacket before Clint opens the passenger door. If he has any idea what happened in the back seat, he hides it well.
As soon as we arrive at Jackson’s New York penthouse, the pampering begins. It starts with a massage and a light facial. Then my hair is twisted into an intricate updo while another woman gives me a pedicure. A selection of cheese and fruit is brought in for me to nibble on, and Jackson disappears, telling me he’ll see me in a bit, when I’m ready for the event. The team of men and women make small talk with me while they work on my makeup, talking about fantastic bone structure and how easy it is to accent natural beauty.
I’ve gone for manicures before and had my hair done for weddings, but I’ve never been pampered to this extent. I feel a lot like Cinderella getting ready for a ball, except instead of a fairy godmother, I have four different millennials primping and pampering me, turning me into a princess.
I’m ridiculously grateful that I took advantage of the ride from the airport, because by the time they’re finished with me, it’s already after four in the afternoon. While the charity auction doesn’t start until seven, the cocktail hour begins at five thirty. The Mills Hotel where the event is taking place isn’t far from here, but with rush hour traffic, it’s bound to be another half-hour drive.
Once I’m deemed event-ready, I’m led to a room where my dress for the night hangs, along with shoes and a clutch. It’s a designer number, and I don’t want to even consider how much this dress would cost to buy. Sitting on the vanity is a box, a small peach-colored card fixed to the top with my name in Jackson’s writing on the front.
I pick the card up and slip it out of the envelope.
A little something beautiful for my beautiful someone.
~Jackson
I open the box to find tissue paper dotted with fresh rose petals. I carefully peel it back and discover a matching bra and panty set in the same color as my dress. Everything is the palest peach. I slip into them, unsurprised to find that they fit perfectly.
My dress has a side zipper, so I’m able to manage getting into it on my own. Once I’m ready, I step out of the dressing room. I expect to find my prep team waiting on the other side, but in their place is Jackson.
He’s standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped in front of him. He’s wearing a black tuxedo that fits him like a glove. His pocket square matches my dress. He’s gorgeous and he’s all mine.
“Hi,” I breathe.
“Hi, yourself.” He crosses the room and takes my hands in his as his gaze moves over me. “You’re stunning.” He brings my hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. “There’s just one thing missing.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
He leads me over to one of the mirrored stations and turns me around so I’m facing it. His lips find my shoulder and sweep up the side of my neck and his arms encircle my waist. He pulls me against him, his chest to my back.
“Jackson, we have to leave soon,” I say in a breathy whisper.
“I’m aware. I just want a minute with you before we go. And I have something for you.”
“You already gave me a gift. I’m wearing it under my dress.” I tip my head, giving him better access to my neck, should he want it.
“There’s one more.” His lips brush the shell of my ear.
“I hope whatever that something is, it won’t ruin my hair or my makeup.”
He smiles against my skin. “I have more restraint than that.”
“That’s almost a pity.”
“I managed to spend two months with you and I only slipped up one time.”
