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Inside was a dark blue dress. When I pulled it out of the box, I noticed that there was a zipper, but it was on the front rather than the back. There was nothing else in the box other than a pair of matching ballet flats.
There wasn’t any bra or panties inside.
He’d given explicit instructions not to wear anything else. I turned back to the door, both humbled and nervous about obeying him in this. I chewed my lip.
He’d know I was bare underneath. He wanted me off balance.
Maybe I could play him at his own game. Tease him and make him give me what I wanted that much sooner.
I smirked. With more haste now, I placed the dress down on the counter and stripped. I unzipped the dress and pulled it into place, delighting in the way it cupped and lifted my breasts perfectly. I left the zipper down just a bit more to show off the ample cleavage it gave me, grinning in the mirror when I saw what I looked like. I mussed my hair and dug into the makeup on the counter.
I’d never worn much of it in the past, but I knew enough to play up my eyes and to give myself an exceptionally pouty red lip. If I wanted to play the part of a temptress, I was going to look like one.
I donned my makeup like it was battle armor, thinking about his arms surrounding me as his cock slid into me. The whole while, I couldn’t forget that I was bare underneath.
By the time I was done, my thighs were already slickened with arousal. With a deep shuddering breath in which I tried to call upon every bit of bravery inside me, I slipped my feet into the flats and left the bathroom. Quickly, I walked through the bedroom into the living room where a massive double door was wide open, leading out to an extravagant sprawling balcony. From this vantage point, it was clear that we were the penthouse suite and that we were in the center of New York City very close to Central Park. We were surrounded by high-rise buildings, but ours was one of the tallest, which afforded some semblance of privacy way up here.
I stepped outside to see that he was waiting for me in nothing more than a pair of gray sweatpants and black slippers. I stopped in my tracks, quite taken by the sight of his bare chest. I wanted to reach out and trace the lines of his tattoos, to explore his muscles with my fingertips. My gaze traveled down the hard lines of his stomach. I swallowed anxiously when I noticed that he was still just as aroused as I’d left him.
“Come here,” he demanded gently. I whimpered, but I approached him despite my building nervousness. He reached for me, brushing his hands against my hips.
“Did you follow my instructions?” he asked. His gaze didn’t leave mine, but I knew what he was implying. Despite all the prep I’d done to taunt and tease him, I could do nothing but blush and stammer like an embarrassed little girl.
“Yes, sir,” I replied quickly. His fingertips trailed liquid fire down my legs, igniting every nerve they touched. I sighed softly, delighting in the tremor that spiraled through me.
“Good girl. Now sit down at the table with me and eat for me,” he directed.
“But I want…” I said quickly, and his mouth tensed in a firm line.
“You will eat, my love. Either you sit down and eat like a good girl, or I’ll take you over my knee and spank you until you beg me for permission to sit down for breakfast. Either way, you will eat for me. Do you need a bright red bottom to do that?” he scolded, and I bit my lip.
“No, sir.”
As much as I wanted his mark, I didn’t want him to punish me.
“That’s my girl,” he answered. He took my hand in his and lifted it to kiss my knuckles. I sucked in a heated breath as his lips brushed against my skin. A single drop of arousal rolled down my left thigh. My heartbeat went haywire.
“Will you sit down for me?”
“Yes. I’ll sit down for you, sir,” I whispered, and he released me. It took all the will in my body to turn and walk around the table to take my seat opposite him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him fill a cup with coffee for me from a large silver kettle. He poured a heavy dollop of creamer into it and swirled it with a spoon as I took my seat.
He reached over the table and lifted the top of a silver platter. I licked my lips as I took in the sight of a plate full of berry-laden crepes. Strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries were all piled on top. As I looked closer, I noticed honey drizzled on top of what appeared to be hand-whipped cream.
It was still piping hot.
“Dig in. I want to see you eat a fair amount of what’s on that plate before we do anything else,” he demanded. A part of me wanted to argue with him, to tell him I wasn’t going to be obedient, but then my stomach growled loud enough for us both to hear. Instead of saying anything, I picked up my fork with a quick nod and dug right in.
It was just as delicious as I’d hoped.
The berries had been baked so that they were firm, but still soft enough to melt in my mouth. The honeyed whipped cream was so good that I couldn’t help but moan as I licked a bit off my finger.
He groaned openly when I did that, which made me lift my gaze to meet his. He was keeping a close watch on my tongue. I dipped my finger in the cream again, taking my time as I cleaned it off with my mouth.
“So. Anthony’s men called you something of a big boss,” I ventured, wanting to cut the rising tension and ignore the building need between my thighs at the same time. I took another bite of the delicious crepes in front of me.
“They did, didn’t they?” he replied cockily. He hadn’t taken his gaze off my lips as I chewed.
“What does that mean exactly?” I pressed. I uncrossed my legs and his eyes dipped for only a second. I hoped he was thinking about how my pussy was bare beneath my dress, simply because he’d wanted it that way.
