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I consider it my personal duty to fix every bad thing in this girl’s life. And fuck me if I don’t want to fix this too.
“Go in the room. I’ll bring you something,” I can’t stop myself from brushing my lips ever so lightly against her, the slightest taste of her lingering faintly against my tongue.
Her big brown eyes narrow on me, but she walks back to the room to change out of the black gown. As soon as the door closes, I walk straight to the deep red one. When I bring it into the light, I find it’s more of a burgundy tone than red. It’s perfect, and I have no idea if it’s her size, but as soon as I bring it to the front, the woman takes a look at the style and nods her head.
“Let me grab her size.” She takes the gown from me and flits away for a moment before returning with the correct size. She knocks lightly and then passes the dress through the crack of the door that Atlas opens for us.
A ruffling of sound comes from inside as I stand with the shop owner. Minutes slip by, and I wonder briefly if I fucked up. Maybe red isn’t her color. What if it doesn’t flatter her hips like I thought it would? What if–
The phone rings from somewhere in the back, and the woman smiles at me while I have an internal melt down. She scurries away and leaves me to die a slow and horrible death of overthinking.
“Can you zip me, Patricia?” Atlas calls out to... just me.
And it’d be my fucking pleasure, Little Bird.
The door opens just enough to unlock the handle, and I sneak inside, my palms pushing along her hips before she even spots me in the mirror. A breath of surprise slips from her lips before her eyes widen in her reflection of the floor-length mirror, and they shift from me to the door I’m carefully closing behind us.
“Rowan! You’re going to get us kicked out of here!” She puts space between us, but the moment I can see her fully in the mirror, I find I was so fucking right about the dress. Righter than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
And there’s no way I can keep my hands off of her.
“You look fucking incredible, Little Bird,” I whisper, my gaze eating up the curve of her breasts peeking over the edge of the satin top that’s fitted like a corset there before swooping along her arms with the thin, loose sleeves that hang perfectly against her body. The fabric constricts against her stomach and folds against her hips, accentuating the high slit there where the material bunches together that once again begs my tongue to taste her.
I drag her against me, her back flush against my chest, and her jagged breath is one of worry and concern and...excitement. Her hand braces against the wall as I curl my arm around her, pushing down the curve of her stomach. Little by little, I grip her gown in my fist until the black see-through material of her panties teases hints of her pussy for me in the mirror.
“Do you like it?” I ask her, looking up through my lashes at the reflection of the only woman who has ever owned every fucking part of me.
My fingers slip beneath the thin waistband and push even lower until my index finger is just above her clit... so fucking close but not nearly close enough.
“Um–” Her lashes flutter as I slowly dip my fingers into her wetness beneath the pretty gown. My fingers tease her slit, and her head nods quick and fast. “I love it,” she whispers for me.
“Does it feel good?” I ask tauntingly, my smirk edging up higher when I watch her in the mirror as her head falls back against my chest, and she nods even harder.
When I have her all wrapped up in my arms like this, it only emphasizes how small she is. I’m all around her, consuming her little breaths and controlling every single part of her.
When I circle her clit hard and fast, a moan stumbles from her lips, and I instantly shove my palm across her mouth, dragging firmly over her teeth before stifling the sound of her pleasure to a low, delicious hum.
“Look at me, Little Bird.” The words are whispered along her ear, and her gaze flashes open with big, dilated pupils meeting mine in the reflection of the mirror.
She’s so fucking sexy like this. It makes me needier, pushing hard across the one spot I know will have her screaming my name if we’re not careful.
“I want you to scream for me. I want all your filthy fucking sounds, but we can’t do that here, do you understand?” Doe eyes absorb my every word as I work her pussy with fast, even strokes. “Can you be a good girl for me just this one time?” I ask her sweetly as I sink two fingers deep into the tightness of her cunt, and my own groan mingles with hers when she trembles and rocks her ass against my cock just right.
“Nod your pretty head for me, beautiful,” I whisper against her neck as I kiss her there so slowly, mirroring the stroke of my tongue with the teasing brush of my fingers up her sex.
She nods hard and fast, her whimpers kissing my palm. Her hips rock, and she starts to fuck my hand for more. I smirk against my greedy girl and sink back in, curving into the sweetest part of her pussy.
Sadly, we don’t have much time for teasing and touching and tasting. I focus there, pumping deep and hard as the heel of my palm grinds across her clit with every move I make. She’s shaking in my arms as her breath and screams are a twisted, diluted sound beneath my palm that only makes me harder. Her curves keep shifting against my length, and I have to force myself to focus on her sounds.
Because she’s fucking close. I feel her tense against me. Her body stiffens before her pussy clenches hard around my fingers. Her moans are jagged and cutting as I keep my pace, fucking her over the edge with a relentless need to have every drop of her dripping down my fingers.
Her hand shakes against the wall, nails scratching across the paneling just as a soft knock sounds against the door behind us and still I sink in deep and hard into her trembling orgasm. I ride it out until the pulsing of her pussy around my fingers slows and she’s breathless in my arms.
Then I kiss her neck gently and take in the gorgeous fucking sight of her. Her lashes seem heavy, her eyes a beautiful, sated whiskey color.
Another knock rumbles more adamantly over the door, and I crack it open just slightly to meet Patricia’s outraged face. I give her my most charming smile, the kind I’ve practiced in front of the mirror since I was a teen. The fake kind of smiles that assholes in high society use to get their way, but it doesn’t change the disgusted downturned frown on her lips.
So I slip my credit card through the small opening of the door for her.
