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CHAPTER SIX
Once we makeit to the landing of the second floor, the same calmness I always feel when I get up here wraps around me. The dim neon lights, whips, chains, and other toys comfort me in a way I can’t even explain.
The atmosphere is completely different than downstairs. It’s methodical and organized with every section pristine and welcoming. I know I’m to blame for that, and I take pride in it. I wanted the people who venture up here to feel the exact way I do. To be able to explore all the things the store can offer in a serene environment.
“Lead the way, sweet girl,” Reed says, pulling me in front of him, and drops my hand.
I can feel his eyes on my back as I move through the store effortlessly, letting my hands brush all the leather and metal of the whips hanging on racks.
When I make it to the entrance of the dressing rooms, I stop and turn around. He’s standing fairly close, but his arms are full of different things. I notice a black leather collar with a silver loop on the front connected to a leash, and a pair of golden nipple clamps still in their package.
“Keep going,” he demands, and his voice is different. So far, it’s been sweet—soft—but now it has a harsh edge to it, and I want nothing more than to rub against it somehow and cut myself.
Turning back around, I do as he instructed and start down the short hallway lined with private dressing rooms. I go all the way to the back and slip inside the last one, our biggest one. Inside, there is a floor-length mirror, a few hooks on the walls, and a bench.
I press myself against the mirror as he follows me in and empties the contents of his arms on the bench. “Turn around.”
I do as he says and watch him in the mirror behind me. He peels his shirt from his body, grabbing the back of it by the opening around his neck. Gray hair covers his chest but doesn’t distract me from the muscles that seem to twitch with every movement he makes.
I admire every inch of him as he stands there bare-chested. I memorize every sculpted ridge, every divot and curve. I want to trace my tongue from the deep V at his hips all the way up to his broad shoulders.
As my eyes move back to his face, I see him watching me. “I take it you like what you see?”
I smile. “Normally, I don’t like anything I see in the mirror, but I like this.” I point to him with my eyes.
Shaking his head lightly with a smirk, he steps closer behind me. Raising his hands, he grabs each side of my face and turns my eyes toward myself. He towers over me, running his hands up and down my arms.
“You have to learn to love yourself, Juliet.”
Placing a kiss on my shoulder, he moves his hands down my body. When he gets to the waist of my jeans, he does what he intended before I made him stop. Hooking his thumbs into them, he pushes them down. They fall from my body with ease and pool around my feet.
Staring at myself, it takes everything in me not to hunch over and hide. My hip dips are deep, my belly hangs over the front of my panties, and my love handles protrude from my waist in an unflattering way. The outside of my thighs is riddled with cellulite, and the inside has weird discoloration and scars from my hidradenitis suppurativa. Nothing about me screams sexy, but Reed doesn’t seem to care.
Grabbing the bottom of my shirt, he drags it up until I lift my arms. Pulling it off, he discards it to the floor. With only my bra, panties, and his sweatpants separating us, he presses his body against mine and wraps his arms around me from behind.
“Life doesn’t come with Photoshop, sweet girl. This—” He moves to run his hands along my stomach. “—is real and so fucking beautiful.”
Seeing the way he stares at me makes me believe him. The way his eyes travel along every part of me with admiration and not disgust has my heart skipping a beat and butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
Dropping to his knees, he lowers my panties. I step out of them and try to cover my unshaven pussy with my hands, still just a twinge of embarrassment coursing through me. Reaching around me, he grabs my hands and pins them to my side. “No. I want to see you. All of you.” The way his voice drips with sex has my knees going weak.
Grabbing my hips, he turns me around, pressing my back flat against the mirror. I keep my hands planted to my side, too scared and too nervous to move and ruin this moment. His lips fan against the hair peppering the apex of my pussy. I let my head fall back as his tongue shoots out.
He swipes it across my lips once and growls. “So. Damn. Sweet.” He enunciates each word.
Lifting one hand, I splay my fingers into his thick hair and grip it at the base, urging him to continue. Lightly, his tongue spreads my lips and dives into my center. My mind goes blank. Tingling starts in my chest before exploding across the rest of my body. Sunspots dance behind my eyelids when I close them, and fireworks erupt from my pussy—I’m sure of it.
Hooking one arm behind my knee, he lifts it before placing it on his shoulder. The thin stubble on his face scrapes the inside of my thighs, and the mixture from the slight pain and pleasure is incomparable.
“Fuck, Reed.” I moan, trying to keep my body upright.
He continues licking and teasing. “Say my name correctly, sweet girl. It sounds good on your lips.”
Moving my other hand to my chest, I moan his name again—the way he wants this time. “Mr. Taylor!” And it seems to spur him on.
As he continues his pleasure-fueled torture, I yank on my bra to release my tits. Thumbing one nipple, I grind onto his face, needing more friction. I’m so close to the edge I can feel it.
The ball of euphoria I know all too well thanks to my showerhead grows bigger and bigger. I’m at a tipping point, ready to fall, but before I can, he pulls back.
“You’re not coming yet. There is still so much I want to do to you.”
