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“Yes, sir.”
Without taking his eyes off me, he reaches back and accepts the red, lacy panties. Then he trails his open mouth from the nape of my neck, all the way down to the small of my back, dropping into a kneel behind me. His warm breath coasts over my buttocks. My fingers curl into fists on the mirror, making a squeaking sound, and I close my eyes. Squeeze them shut. Because I know from his position, he can see the moisture on my inner thighs. Can see everything.
“Step in,” he drawls, holding the panties down near my feet. “We need to make sure these work before we buy them, don’t we?”
Oh lord.
Oh lord.
What is he going to do next?
How much more of this can I take?
I’m still wearing high heels but manage to step into each leg hole without ripping the fabric, and then Jack is dragging them slowly, slowly, up my thighs. “How wide is the opening?” Jack asks over his shoulder, while…oh my God. He takes the cheeks of my bottom in his hands and spreads them wide, ducking his head to examine the sewn-in breach of the garment. “I want to be sure I fit through it.”
In the mirror’s reflection, I watch the woman pick up a different pair—black—and hold it up to the light, scrutinizing the hole thoughtfully. “It appears to be about two inches of space to…um…fit through, sir.”
Jack makes a doubtful sound. “Sounds like they were built for average-sized men.” Straightening once again to his full height behind me, he unzips his pants. A whimper flies out of my mouth, every muscle in my body pulling taut. Fearing, anticipating, buzzing. “I’m not average sized, though,” he says, a low, thick pitch to his voice. “Am I, angel?”
“No, Daddy,” I whisper, wetting my lips anxiously.
With a nod of approval, he steps to the side, drawing the cheeks of my backside even wider, so the sales lady can see everything in between, through the thin, see-through veil of red lace. “You think she’d get this wet and horny for mediocre dick?”
She gulps. “No, sir.”
“Then you understand we need to test them out.”
“I…I…” The sales lady glances toward the heavy velvet curtain separating us from the rest of the shop, then slowly nods. “Y-yes, sir. I understand.”
Never severing eye contact with me in the mirror, Jack jerks my hips back.
Uses a foot to kick my feet wide.
Reaches into his pants and stoops down, fitting his thickness into the opening with a line of concentration between his brows…and then I feel him, huge and stiff, inching into my wet heat, inch by inch, my legs shaking the deeper he gets. I don’t even recognize my blissed-out features in the mirror. I don’t recognize anything, this world of sexual depravity and delight is so foreign to me. All I can do is feel and there is so much to feel. The ripe tightening of my nipples and Jack’s quickening breaths stirring my hair. The rush of moisture between my legs, the cinching and pulsing of my intimate muscles as he invades me, finally filling me completely, the sound of joined, soaked flesh and our wild breaths echoing in the dressing room.
“I need about five thrusts to be sure,” Jack says hoarsely, grinding upward and lifting me onto my toes. “Bend forward for Daddy, angel.”
Out of my mind, starved for friction, for impact, I scramble on my tippy toes to do what I’m told, my palms braced on the mirror. Panting, mewling, clawing at the glass.
“Christ, look at this little treasure of mine,” Jack grunts, scrubbing a hand up my spine and burying it in my hair, drawing my head back so I’m staring into my lust-drunk expression. “So eager. So tight.” Briefly, he glances back over his shoulder. “She’s also a screamer. Cover her mouth, please.”
Oh. God. I clench my teeth to resist a climax.
How does he know?
How deep has he gotten inside my head?
He keeps discovering new, unfounded territories that shock me, make me burn.
“Yes, sir,” says the sales lady, coming up beside me and clamping a hand over my mouth. And she makes no pretense of looking away, her interested gaze fixed between my legs where the thick, veiny root of Jack’s shaft disappears inside me, through the stretched red opening of the panties. “Ready.”
Jack growls, sexual pain tugging at his features.
Then he grips my hips and fucks me.
Roughly.
His teeth are bared, his tie askew, sweat dotting his upper lip.
He gives me five bone-rattling thrusts that do indeed make me scream. I let loose a strangled sound into the woman’s palm, but there’s nothing to muffle the wicked slap of flesh every time he pumps inside me, his hips clapping against my buttocks. Hard. His flesh thickens with every upward drive, his eyes growing more and more glassy.
