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“I want you to wear a dress.”
His response catches me off guard, and I almost choke on my saliva. He’s not laughing, which means this isn’t a joke. There’s no hesitation or doubt in his voice. I lower my gaze to my outfit; yoga pants and a long-sleeved black shirt. I’m not going to mention my hair at all.
“A dress? Are you kidding me?” Stanley shakes his head casually. “Why? I thought you liked me just the way I am. Dresses and I don’t get along,” I complain.
My mom always scolded me because I never sat straight with dresses. We’re in the second week of November, the temperature is dropping, and I’m not in the mood to lose my toes thanks to the cold.
Stanley leans in, his mouth grazing my ear. I stay still, a little concerned with what he’s going to say. This class is already hard enough for me to get distracted by him. I have no doubts that’s what he’s going to do.
“Bree,” he pronounces in a low, raspy voice that sends goosebumps all over my body. “I know that you think that I’m some kind of gentleman, but I’m going to be honest with you. The only reason why I want you to wear a dress is because of the access it will give me.”
I have to bite my lip to hold back a frustrated whimper that might embarrass me in front of my classmates. Stanley leans back on his chair, and I turn around to focus on the whiteboard. Hot blood accumulates in my face, my skin on fire. My whole body feels in flames, sudden flashes of warmth running up and down my system.
His comment turns me on. The frustration from the weekend is driving me insane, and he’s enjoying playing and teasing me. Stanley is treating the wait like some kind of foreplay that has me weak and close to begging already. I’d enjoy this entirely if it didn’t break my concentration for the class. I don’t even notice when the Harpy arrives and starts writing concepts on the board. My mind is on a carousel, thinking about what kind of dress I’m going to wear.
Two can play this game.
On Friday,I go shopping with Ash and Karma after admitting that I like him and made out for hours when I stayed at his place. They signed up to help me find a dress for the date and made sure to convince me to buy lingerie in case that things get heated tomorrow. I hope that they do because he has been teasing me for these past days, and I need to play him too.
For some reason, the girls push me to go to the lingerie store before buying a dress. I consider it an impractical thing to do because I don’t know what kind of dress I’m going to wear and its limitations, but I end up entering the store.
“I can’t believe this,” I mutter, observing the sets on sale.
“Wow, Ash. That’s you,” Karma elbows her to catch her attention.
One of the promotional photos of a collection is of Ash. She’s standing facing directly at the camera with her mouth opened slightly, her blue gaze intensified. A black crop top covers her breasts, leaving space to spot her cleavage and red panties with a black elastic wrap the bottom half of her body. Red and black are her signature colors.
She looks stunning, as always, but Ash tenses up in front of the photo. I can sense her discomfort when her lips purse together. Her shootings are getting riskier, more reckless than before.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
Turning her head, she forces a smile.
“I hated those panties. It’s not a tong, but it sure ended up like that by the way, it’s always sticking between your butt cheeks.”
I don’t press the topic because she’s avoiding it, but I know that there’s something else going on. Something that Ash is trying to hide from me.
“Bree, what are Stanley’s kinks? Wait, do you think he has a kink?” Karma asks, changing the subject.
“I dunno. He seems vanilla to me,” Ash follows Karma’s lead.
I bite the inner side of my cheek. Although it’s not something that he has said explicitly, I can think of a few things he likes based on a couple of comments. Also, with his control, I can think of another thing he’s good at.
“Your face is all red. Does that mean he has one?” Karma inquires and arches a brow, intrigued. “Let me guess: he likes to roleplay. I can picture him doing a teacher-student session.”
I’ll be damned if I said that I didn’t think about it. The image unfolds in my head, inspiring scenarios that have been there since we started this new game.
“I bet that’s it,” Ash agrees with her, and they snicker like a pair of hyenas. “Although, I’m curious about something else. I know that you guys didn’t do much when you stayed with him—”
“More likenothing,” I correct her with annoyance.
“—But you had to feel him, right? No one kisses for that long without getting horny. What’s waiting for you?”
Rolling my eyes, I feel shy about this conversation. I’ve always been outspoken about my hookups. Lord knows that I gave them a lot of details without hesitation. But things are different with Stanley. I want to keep our relationship protected by a bubble, so that no one can burst it. Maybe it’s because I still haven’t gotten used to the idea of us being together; he’s not a hookup. I want him to stay with me. In some weird psychology, my brain thinks that if I maintain us safely guarded, he can’t disappoint me.
“Girls, c’mon.”
Ash shrugs as if it didn’t matter.
