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“There isno way I can let you buy this,” Nina said from inside the fitting room. She was still staring at the tag on the dress when Jack’s reply came from outside the fittingroom.
“Nonsense,” he said “I can do anything I like. Put iton.”
The last was said with the steely undertone that had crept into his voice more and more often in the past couple of weeks. It was a product of his restraint. She understood the restraint was a gift to her, a willingness to forfeit his preferred tactics in an effort to be with her in a more conventionalmanner.
But he was losing patience, and from the shiver that ran up her spine at the command in his voice, she was just as impatient. She’d always found Jack’s sexual appetite to be both exciting and a little frightening, but she was only now coming to realize that her fear had nothing to do withhim.
It was herself she was afraid of — the cravings he incited in her and her increasing desperation to have themassuaged.
“Where are you, Nina?” Jack asked from the other side of thedoor.
She unzipped the dress and pulled it reluctantly over her head. “Almostthere.”
They were at a private boutique in Tribeca that was tucked away on the second floor of a nondescript building. Maude, the older woman who’d greeted them when they stepped off the elevator, seemed to know Jack and had greeted him with a deference that said she was equally familiar with his Platinumcard.
A selection of clothing had been waiting on a rack near the dressing rooms. Obviously Jack had called ahead, asking Maude to prepare items in much the same way Julia did at Bergdorf for Karen and Nina. Except if Bergdorf was out of Nina’s league, this place — whatever it was called — was in anotheruniverse.
The dress she was struggling to zip was another Jason Wu, a silver silk blend from the feel of it sliding over her skin. The sleeves and neckline were demure on a top that hung like an expensive crop top over the tapered waist of the dress. Below the waist, perfectly constructed pleats resulted in a voluminous skirt that was shorter in the front than in the back. It was the perfect cocktaildress.
It was also almost three thousanddollars.
She opened the door to the fitting room and walked barefoot into the hall that ran in front of the two dressingrooms.
Jack remained in a plush chair situated in front of the rooms, his eyes appraising. A crystal glass sat on the table at his side, an inch of Scotch lingering in the bottom of theglass.
“Put on the shoes,” heordered.
She bent to the pair of silver Louboutins that had been waiting along with the clothes. She had no idea if Jack intended for her to own them or if they were used just for the purpose of trying thingson.
“Turnaround.”
She followed his instructions, turning her back to him and trying to ignore the effect his cold voice had on her, the dampness that had blossomed between herlegs.
She was still waiting when she felt his presence behind her. She didn’t move. They were back in the game where Jack made the rules and she obeyedthem.
She tried to ignore the thrill of anticipation that ran through her body. Tried not to think about what it said about her that as much as she’d enjoyed the past few weeks — the things she’d learned about Jack, his willingness to let her in, to let her touch him in bed and out — she was more than ready for a return to the Jack she’d known last year, the one who’d withheld his affection and her orgasm until she was so desperate for both she would have crawled over broken glass to obtainthem.
He lowered his head to her neck. She felt the brush of his nose against her skin, the exhale of his breath. She wasn’t aware of making the decision to tip her head to one side, her skin was simply seeking the touch of his mouth, as natural, as elemental, as an animal engaged in a matingritual.
She closed her eyes as his fingertips brushed her leg under the hem of her dress. His touch sent sparks zipping from her thigh to her wet center, continued through her belly to her nipples, immediatelyhard.
She sighed as his hand worked its way to the inside of her thigh. She was vibrating, her pussy swelling with need as he slipped his fingers inside her underwear, his breath even and warm against the tender skin under herear.
They were still outside the dressing room, Maude presumably somewhere in the boutique, quite possibly in full view ofthem.
“Jack… weshouldn’t— ”
She was stopped short by a sharp pinch on the inside of herthigh.
“I decide what we should and shouldn’t do,” he said in her ear. “Do youunderstand?”
“Yes,” shegasped.
“Unless you’d like to use your safe word,” he murmured. “Stop, wasit?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Please.”
