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“This is amazing,” I whisper. “You can become anyone you want to be.”
Another button brings up a panel with women’s clothing, wigs, dresses, and heels. “Who wore these before me?” I ask, not bothering to hide my jealousy.
“Are you envious, Nicolette?”
I won’t lie. “Of course.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “You’re jealous of the woman who may have worn these before you?”
“Yes.” I keep my back to him. “Are you the only one who gets to be jealous?”
Slowly, he turns me to face him. He brushes the hair out of my eyes and cups my jaw.
“You’re allowed to be jealous. I love that you are. And to answer your question, I bought them for you. No one else has ever touched them. There’s only you.”
For me? Just for me?
How did he get them so quickly? He must have connections all over Europe.
“This is the coolest thing anyone’s ever gotten me.” I give him a curious look. “Can we do a test run?”
His voice grows husky. “I insist on it.”
“What should I try on?” I ask, loving the way a fire kindles in his gaze. I lower my voice. “You know. For the next time you fuck me.”
I hold the button down, watching panel after panel rotate in front of me and smile.
He stabs his fingers in my hair and tugs me closer.
“Who says I’ll allow you clothes the next time I fuck you?”
I bite my lip and lean into this. I want to be overpowered and owned by him.
“No one, sir.”
After sliding my hand off the panel, he tucks it into my side and presses the button. Outfit after outfit flashes by—dresses and jeans, skirts and leggings, heels and flats, wigs, jewelry…
“Clothes off,” he whispers in my ear. Footsteps sound in the hallway outside, then fade. “No one’s coming. Do what I say before I punish you.”
“And if I want you to punish me?”
When his brows knit together and his lips press into a thin line, I wonder… Maybe that was the wrong answer.
My pulse speeds up when he steps back long enough to grab my elbow and spin me around. In a few steps, we reach the shoe display.
“Fabien,” I breathe. “What are you…”
The silver flash of a knife makes me hold my breath. The blade presses up against my neck. I’m engulfed in instant panic. Who is this man? Have I made a terrible mistake? I knew he was dangerous, I even knew he was capable of murder, but I thought—
The knife slides through my dress as if it was fashioned out of butter. “I’ll buy you anything you want,” he whispers. “I told you to take those clothes off, and you decided to test me.”
My bra and panties lie in ribbons next to the shredded dress.
“Bend over the shoe rack. Hands in front where I can see them.”
I’m somewhere between fear and arousal as I obey. He isn’t going to kill me. Maybe he’s going to… fuck me right here in the closet?
I look over my shoulder at the click of a buckle. He holds my gaze as he expertly removes his belt and folds it over in his hands. I expect him to toss it and reach for his fly, but he has other plans.
“Are you going to question me?”
I shake my head in wonder. In one quick motion, he snaps the belt across my ass. I gasp, shocked that he just did that. Shocked at how much it hurts. Shocked at how much more I need.
My mouth is dry as he steps closer to me and grabs my neck with one hand and whacks my ass with his belt with the other.
“Do you like to be punished now, Nicolette?” Another slash of leather, another, then another. An insistent pulsing heat builds between my legs as he crisscrosses my skin with sharp but bearable strokes.
“I—I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. My voice sounds as if it’s far away.
“Touch yourself,” he growls. “Touch yourself while I whip you and when I’m done, you tell me if you’ve decided yet.”
I quickly move one hand between my legs, eager to stroke myself toward some kind of relief, but the more I touch myself the more aroused I become.
I move to the tempo of his belt, stroke, stroke, stroke. I feel as if I’m on the edge of shattering, so close I can’t breathe, but every time the leather strikes me, I draw back a little, only to find myself needier and needier.
I gasp at the first spasm of ecstasy, dimly aware that somewhere along the line he’s dropped the belt beside me and grabbed my hips. I feel his length behind me, his fingers between my legs, finding my entrance as I continue to stroke.
“Come with me,” he whispers. “I want you to come when I do.”
The first sharp thrust almost splits me in two. I’m holding back with everything I have. The feel of him stretching me, filling me, completing me makes me moan and rock against him, so eager to feel that blessed release.
