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If she wants it.
Looking a lot like a fish out of water, I make sure to let her know it’ll be a business expense and keep my eye on her if she needs me.
“Be right over here in menswear if you need anything,” I tell her, checking my watch and figuring we have about an hour of this before my dick literally explodes in my pants.
Chloe’s whisked away by an eager team of sales assistants and her personal tailor.
Once it’s clear this is going on the Condor account, it’s a little bit more of that five-star service I know she’s gotten used to today.
Thinking of her parents, the real Ms. De Laurent, too, out there somewhere, I should feel bad.
But watching Chloe’s fine ass as she moves among racks of clothes, being tended to like she deserves to be, drives me wild.
I catch her looking over at me a few times while I pretend to browse.
I decide to take a seat once I can’t hide my growing hardness anymore the more I watch her, especially when I see them taking her over to the lingerie section.
I wish I’d stayed over there now.
I don’t feel bad. My only regret is not meeting her sooner.
Like twenty fucking years ago.
Shut up. I’ll test the water properly over dinner, but I think she’s interested.
Most girls would have run or found an excuse to leave by now, surely.
And when the real Ms. De Laurent turns up?
Then she can have her job, and I’ll keep Chloe. Can’t be any fairer than that.
Late Friday isn’t the hour I’d expect a high-end boutique to get busy, but Chloe’s attendants are called away one by one within minutes.
Even her tailor gets busy with other clients, and the phone suddenly won’t stop ringing.
Noticing the worried look in Chloe’s eyes from across the room, I make my way over to her side of the boutique as she disappears into a changing booth with a business suit over her arm.
I figure I’ll just keep her company until the others aren’t so busy.
But yeah. First-class service is fine, until a dozen other people want exactly the same service.
It looks like they haven’t wasted any time choosing a rack of garments for Chloe to try on and fingering the lace of one of the bra and panty sets I find, I can’t wait to see what else they have in store.
“Uhhh… Can I get a hand in here, just for a second?” I hear Chloe’s voice call from inside her changing booth.
I spin on my heel, expecting to see at least one of the staff members nearby, but they’re all busy.
I feel my throat getting drier, tighter.
My whole body seems to know what to do next, even though my brain advises against it.
If she’s not up for it, I could be ruined.
But if I don’t find out, if I can’t have her as mine, then I’m ruined anyway.
I must have her. I need to know.
I watch my hand move toward the changing room door and decide it’s a sure way to find out if I’m right or wrong about the mutual attraction theory. I gently push it open.
I can see her bare back through an open gown. Her head is bent down and forward as she struggles with the buttons that are on the back of the gown.
“Sorry…,” she murmurs, snorting a little nervous laugh, thinking I must be one of the shop attendants. “I didn’t realize the zipper only went so far. The rest is actually buttons –.”
She’s almost finished saying it, but my hands are already on her from behind.
Gasping with shock, she looks up into the mirror in front of her.
And seeing it’s me, I feel her melt back into me. Her eyes are fluttering a little as I grip her hips harder, pulling her whole body up against my aching cock, straining to get free already so I can bury myself inside her.
“It’s just me…Chloe,” I grunt, growling as I gather handfuls of her dress and her body under my grip.
“This what you needed help with?” I groan, pushing her feet wider apart, making her gasp louder before she has to support herself with her hands out front.
My strongest hand slides between her thick, smooth thighs. I am drawn to the intense heat I can sense long before I feel the wetness of her sex finally touching my skin.
She whimpers helplessly and tries to speak but only groans when one of my thick fingers probes her sodden pussy through her underwear.
Making a little hole in them, it’s no real effort for me to tear the fabric and feel her wetness become a torrent once I start to circle her already flexing little entrance.
With my finger pulsing against her arousal, I grip her mane of blond hair, tugging her head back as I whisper roughly in her ear.
