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I blinked at her. My aunt. Advising me about my kinky sex partner.
Was this my life now? For real?
Only for the next two weeks,I told myself.
But somehow, that just made me feel more anxious.
And more desperate not to screw this up.
“Well, let’s find you that perfect outfit,” Madeleine said breezily, reading my unease when I didn’t even answer her. “When he lays eyes on you tonight… your Dom won’t know what hit him.”
This time, I almost corrected her.
He’s not my Dom.
But for some reason, I didn’t want to.
* * *
By eight o’clock that night, I was semi-hyperventilating. I had Shane pick me up at Madeleine’s place because there was no way anyone else who knew me was going to see me dressed like this.
‘This’ being in a tight little black dress so short it ended up above my black stockings, showing a slice of bare thigh. Girls wore shorter skirts than this to the bar all the time, sure, but I’d just never been one of those girls. Not only was I showing off my thigh-highs, but the hot pink garters that were holding them up were clearly visible. I’d conceded to that one shot of pink.
Oh, and the matching panties. And my pink-rimmed glasses. I could’ve put in contacts, but the glasses with the outfit just seemed kinkier somehow.
Besides, Shane said he liked my eyes, right?
I had a gut feeling he’d like it.
I would’ve bought the matching pink bra, but this dress didn’t really need one. It had built-in supportive cups and gave me a great pop of cleavage. I’d never rocked so much cleavage in public in my life, actually.
When Shane pulled up, I was watching out Madeleine’s front window, and I immediately waved her off. “Don’t watch!” I shouted, grabbing my purse as I hurried out to meet him. She said something aboutBe safe, andCall if you need anything, but I just slammed the door in her face.
“Um, thank you!” I called out to her, too late. She probably didn’t hear me.
I’d just have to thank her later. When my panties weren’t already getting wet because I was on my way to a sex party with Shane Madrigal.
Then I bolted down the path towards the curb where he’d pulled up, just a little too fast for the heels I was wearing. My eyes were locked on him as he got out of the car, a black Mustang. He came around to meet me, and it was like he was walking in slow-mo.
Unicorn.
The man was a freaking unicorn, for sure.
Shit.
He wore tight black dress slacks and a black button-up shirt, unbuttoned a bit. Simple. Elegant. Manly.
Sexy as all hell.
Tan skin, luscious full lips, thick dark hair.
Pale wolfish eyes, eating me alive.
I just about bit my own tongue when I spoke. “Hello.”
I stumbled a little, lost in his eyes, and he caught me.
“I’m not great in heels,” I gushed. “I’ll try to calm down.”
