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Trying not to be disheartened, I took a snapshot of the gowns the attendant had suggested, gowns I knew Brennan wouldn’t like either because there were a lot of frills and a lot of taffeta for some reason, and sent it to her.
Me:Brennan and I are going to a gala. Look at what the store attendants have hooked me up with. They must think I’m 80.
The ticks appeared, so I knew she’d read it, but she didn’t reply.
“Damn,” I muttered under my breath, trying not to be disheartened when staring at the screen didn’t miraculously make a text from her appear.
Heaving a sigh, I stripped out of the taffeta dress Brennan hadn’t approved of, then bent over to pick it up and to place it back on the hanger.
As I did, I saw the curtain move and sway, and peered over to find him standing there, his eyes on my ass, his head peeking through a gap he’d made between the curtain and the wall.
“Thought you were busy,” I told him huskily.
“I am,” he rumbled, in a voice I was coming to recognize easily now. “That’s why I decided to speed things up. Those attendants apparently have no taste, because why they want to cover those tits and your legs up...” He shook his head, then in a lower voice, muttered, “People thinkI’mthe criminal.”
My cheeks flushed—he made no bones about the pleasure he found in my body, but it still came as a shock to me to be praised.
Dolls weren’t rewarded with praise, after all. They were just fucked. Used.
Brennan didn’t treat me like a doll. I couldn’t say he treated me like a wife, either.
“Here.” He shoved his way through the curtain, armed with two dresses, and said, “Two steps out of the waiting room and I found these. They should suit you, but try them on first.”
I licked my lips. “Are you going to help me into them?”
He smirked. “No. I’m going to watch you get dressed though.”
Pouting a little as he moved over to the low armchair and took a seat, I focused on the ridge of his dick which made a prominent bulge against his tailored slacks as he settled down. The dresses he draped over his lap, seeming to bring his erection further to my attention.
After crossing his legs, one ankle staying propped up on his knee, he rested his hands on his belly as he tipped his head back, declaring, “Try them on.”
Leaning over to grab the first one, I let temptation strike me as my fingers drifted over his cock, brushing him with just the tips.
He growled. “If you don’t want to drop to your knees and suck me off in here, Camille, you’ll get changed fast.”
I smirked at him. “Who says that’d be a punishment?”
His lips gathered into a tight purse before he heaved a sigh. “I don’t have time for this.” His hand ruffled through his hair as he stared at me impatiently. “Get changed, Camille.”
I heard the warning, the low throb that ran through the words too, and shivered inside. Not out of fear, but a complex mixture of trepidation and excitement.
I wanted him to pull me by the hair and drag me to my knees, and I half expected him to do that, but he didn’t. Instead, he watched me, with burning eyes as I slipped into the black gown first.
My disappointment was real, but the dress was perfect. Inky-black crêpe, it gathered at the waist with thin bands of crystal that accentuated my slenderness while creating a sweeping silhouette. It had a V-neckline that showed off my breasts, and which, after tugging at the skirt, was deep enough to require tit tape as they popped out to say hello when I straightened back up again.
I cast him a look, saw he was still sitting upright, but his dick made even more of a bulge against his zipper...
Was it strange that my mouth watered?
In the shortest imaginable time, I’d come to associate all things sex with orgasms. Which might seem the logical route, but it hadn’t been for me this far.
“Every man at tonight’s event will be thinking of fucking those tits,” he said succinctly, his gaze on the swells.
After the sushi restaurant, and three more trips out this week, to a Thai place, a Michelin-starred Italian eatery, and a dessert bar, I’d come to realize that he liked that other men wanted me.
They could look, but only he could touch.
Which didn’t thrill just him, but me too.
