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“Need help taking that off?” she asks.
I nod, biting my lip.
She shuts herself into the stall with me and closes the curtain so we’re both standing in the small space. I put my back to her, the mirror in front of me, as she starts to loosen the ribbon straps at the back.
Being alone with Eden now is different—or at least for me, it is. Now that we’ve had sex, I no longer feel like I’m a girl with a crush. She wants me.
Can I kiss you?
That one line from her the other night sent me into outer space. And I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
If I had any sort of self-control, I would have let her kiss me in that moment. But no. I had to jump on her like a horny teenager. I don’t know what came over me. I just wanted her in a way I’ve never wanted anyone before.
“Should we tell him?” I ask, thinking about the fact that we’re keeping our little lessons a secret.
“Do you want to?” she replies without meeting my gaze.
“I don’t know. Is it bad that I like having something special, all our own?”
She stares with an unfocused gaze as she says, “No. It’s not hurting anyone.”
I’m relieved. It’s not that I want to lie to Clay, but I already feel like a bit of an outsider, considering he and Eden have somewhat of a shared past, even if it wasn’t romantic. Now, she and I have…somewhat of a past.
“What if I don’t find my Domme style?” I whine. “Can I seriously keep trying to do this in my stupid skirts and crop tops?”
She loosens my corset enough that it slides off my chest. “Yes,” she answers plainly. “It’s your choice. Your style. Make it yours and wear whatever makes you feel sexy. If you feel it, it will show. And your sub will feel it.”
When she glances up, her eyes meet mine in the mirror. As I let the corset fall away, my breasts are exposed, and the air in the small dressing room grows thick.
My breasts are nowhere near voluptuous. MeaslyAcups, something that never bothered me much until I started standing next to her, with her fuller, sexier breasts.
“Stand up straight,” she says. Her fingers trace my lower back as my shoulders rise. We stand in silence as her gaze rakes over my body, naked from the waist up. Then her featherlight touch moves from my back up to my shoulder and down the length of my right arm.
“You are so exquisite,” she whispers. “When you look in the mirror, do you see how beautiful you are?”
So far, my eyes have been only on her, so I move them until I’m staring at the smaller, paler, meeker of the two women in the reflection.
“Yes,” I say, notching my chin up a little higher.
“Good,” she replies with a soft smile.
Her hand drifts downward from my shoulder, dusting the surface of my breast and then my stomach.
“I used to struggle with the woman in the mirror,” she says. “It was like she projected lies. She was beautiful and bold and sexy—all the things I was not.”
My eyes widen as I gape at her. Is she serious right now?
“The woman in the mirror was me, but my mind refused to see that.”
“Why?” I ask in astonishment. Eden is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. How could she possibly not see that?
Her eyes grow sad as she stares unfocused at something in the mirror. “If you’re told enough how worthless, stupid, and hideous you are, you start to believe it.”
“Who would tell you that?” I whisper, clutching her hand in mine.
“First, my father. Then, my husband.”
My blood turns to ice as I gaze at her in the mirror. “Your husband? What kind of husband would do that?”
