"Need to make sure it fits properly."
The dressing room is small. Intimate. A mirror takes up onewall, her reflection showing me everything—the way her breath catches, the way her pupils dilate even as she tries to look annoyed.
"We're in public."
"Don't care." I step closer. Close enough that she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. "Besides, I'm buying this place anyway."
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"Need to make sure the fitting rooms meet my standards." My hands find her hips and pull her against me so she can feel exactly what she does to me. "Seems like they need testing."
"You can't just?—"
"Can't I?" I turn her toward the mirror to make her watch. "Tell me to stop."
She doesn't.
Her mouth opens, but no protest comes out. Only that sharp inhale when my hands slide under the dress. When I find bare skin.
The adrenaline hits different here. Public space. Strangers just beyond this curtain. The manager a mere five feet away. Anyone could hear. Anyone could know.
That makes it hotter.
"Ivan, someone will hear!"
"Good." I press against her. "Let them know this room is occupied."
I don't take the dress off entirely, pushing it up instead. The half-clothed fantasy is better—that contrast between expensive fabric and skin, between elegant and obscene.
My phone comes out.
She sees it in the mirror. "What are you?—"
I dial with one hand. The other stays on her hip, holding her in place. Then I'm inside her, and her reflection reveals everything—eyes going wide, mouth falling open, that moment of surrender.
"This is Petrov." My voice stays level even as I start moving. "The boutique on Oak Street. I want to purchase it. Today."
Her hand flies to her mouth, trying to stay quiet. I pull it away and pin both her wrists against the mirror.
"Yes, immediately." Another thrust. Deeper. Her reflection shows the struggle—trying to stay silent, trying to stay composed, failing at both. "Transfer the funds within the hour."
Watching her in the mirror while talking business does a number on me. That juxtaposition. The professional voice, while I'm buried inside her. The way she's battling not to make a sound.
"I'll have my lawyer handle paperwork." I pause, making her wait. Watching her expression in the glass—desperate, needy, perfect. Then I move. Hard. Her gasp is audible. "Make it happen."
I hang up and toss the phone aside.
"Private property now," I murmur against her neck. My hand wraps around her throat. Not squeezing but holding. Reminding her who's in control. "We can do this whenever we want."
She laughs. Breathless. Disbelieving. "You're insane."
"You chose this." I move harder, taking in every microexpression in the mirror. "You chose me. This is what that means."
This is what it means to be mine. To have me buy entire buildings so I can fuck her in them without caring who knows.
She tries to cover her mouth again. I won't let her.
"Don't hide." My grip tightens slightly on her throat. "I want to hear you. Want everyone to know."
