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I’m so wet between the legs and my nipples are hardened peaks.
I need him to touch me, but he won’t.
The dress falls, and his eyes dip as he checks out my ass. I want to die.
I can’t keep my eyes off that bulge. I’ve seen his cock and I know it’s big.
Noticing, he swears and adjusts himself for the second time as my cheeks flush red.
Then, I feel one hand at my hip and the other tilts my chin to look at him in the mirror. He leans to my ear, his masculine scent clouding my senses as he says, “Don’t ever hide your body, Lu. It’s beautiful. If anyone tells you you’re fat, you let me know, and then I’ll have the pleasure of fuckin’ killin’ them.”
I swallow hard, his fingers pressing into my hip as I nod slowly.
He lets me see how serious he is, then turns to leave before adding, “I take it back. Don’t wear this dress in public, because if you do, I’ll have to hunt down every fucker who looks at you and gauge their eyes out while I’m at it.”
He leaves the dressing room, and I stand there in my underwear, my ripped dress at my feet as I try to calm the fuck down.
What the hell was that?
I dress quickly without trying anything else on and Thomas insists on paying for the damaged dress on his credit card as I try to hide my embarrassment from the clerk. He has something else in the bag along with it, but I don’t dare speak.
I’m flushed with embarrassment as we leave. I just want to go home.
The whole car ride, we’re silent.
When we park in the garage, he says, “This is between us.”
I nod. Relief floods through me that he won’t tell all of his buddies on the team what a loser I am.
The loss of his touch, even the slightest bit, makes me want to sob.
I need his hands on me. I want him to play with my body.
He hands me the bag. “This is for you. Merry Christmas.”
He gets out of the car and takes off inside.
I sit there and peer into the bag.
It’s my dress. Except, not the ripped one. It’s in a slightly bigger size, the size I should’ve selected in the first place.
He bought it for me?
Then I remember his words: “Don’t wear this dress in public, because if you do, I’ll have to hunt down every fucker who looks at you and gauge their eyes out while I’m at it.”
I clutch the bag to my chest and take a few moments to compose myself.
We had a moment.
We had a fucking moment.
What in the hell happens now?
The days pass and we avoid each other once again. I’m confused. Upset. And most of all, turned on.
I touched myself while imagining his hands and mouth on me. Who am I kidding? Thomas has played the starring role in my late-night fantasies when I make myself come many times before.
I keep myself awake at night, imagining his cock and what it looked like that night I hid in the closet.
