I do as he says, opening my eyes to lock onto his again, and he beams at me with what I can only call pride.
“There’s my good girl,” he praises with a wink.
I shudder with a moan as I buckle against him, opening my mouth to speak, but no words will come out. As I near the edge, his thumb meets my clit, giving me pressure and movement that comes up behind me and kicks me off that edge at warp speed.
I scream out his name as my body tightens around him, pulsing with the orgasm rushing through me. At the height of it, Colt’s mouth meets mine. Our tongues dance together until his own orgasm claims him, making him slow to a few needy thrusts as he empties himself into me.
It takes a minute for me to realize that I’m still rooted to the planet, not floating through space.
Not even ten minutes later, Colt holds me tightly to his body while he strokes my hair; he seems to really like doing that, and it makes me feel so cared for every time he does it. Three little words climb up my throat, threatening to force their way out, but I swallow them back down, sending them to him in a thought, instead.
I love you.
TWENTY-NINE
Rowan
After a far-too-filling breakfast of cannoli, cornetto, and a delicious spread of breads topped with several varieties of jam, we meet a driver at the front of the hotel, who takes us through the city to an area so busy, we have to park and step out of the vehicle and travel on foot to actually go anywhere.
We pass through a line of shops, some of which I recognize as chains from the states, and others I have never seen before – each displaying accessories from handbags to jewelry or beautiful pieces of clothing.
We come to a stop in front of a store with some of the most decadent dresses - no, not dresses, gowns - I’ve ever seen displayed in its window. Truly magnificent pieces, fit for a princess. Things a little girl dreams of wearing when she grows up.
“Do you like them?” Colt asks, noticing my staring.
“They’re gorgeous,” I answer.
“Good.”
He takes my hand and pulls me inside, and I almost immediately feel out of place. Mannequins are draped with silks, cashmere, and a selection of different furs. My handsrun along the fabrics, soaking up every touch of the delicate textures as we walk through the store, heading for a small area toward the back with two chairs that face a small, round table made of carved marble.
I let Colt lead me to one of the seats and drop myself into it while he disappears, I assume to speak to someone.
Not long after, he approaches with a young man in tow, a rolling garment rack in the young man’s hand. He asks me a few questions, most of which require Colt to play the role of translator, then vanishes. He’s so quick on his feet, I would have missed him if I blinked.
The young man returns a handful of minutes later, the previously empty rack now filled to the brim with those same gowns that I had been admiring as we walked through the shop.
He sets a glass of wine in front of Colt, and another glass – which I assume is sparkling water – in front of me.
“Grazie,” Colt tells the man with a nod. He then turns to me and inclines his head toward the velvet curtains in front of us. “Well? Try them on.”
“O-okay.”
I stand and reach for the rack, shuffling through the dresses on it, my head swimming. I start with an absolutely stunning black dress. I take it with me behind that velvet curtain, which suddenly doesn’t feel like it offers nearly enough privacy, despite reaching from the floor to the high ceiling.
I follow with a cream-colored dress, then a blue one, and another cream one, stepping out in each to give Colt my best princess twirl and show him the entire look.
I hear my father’s voice in the back of my mind, telling me I look like a cheap whore; but the voice gets quickly snuffed out by Colt. The smile on his face as he watches me play in the dresses is completely intoxicating.
I didn’t expect our travels to include a game of fashion show dress-up, but I’m really having a lot of fundoing this with him; another taste of my microdose of royalty.
Finally, I reach for a cherry red floor length dress and take it behind the curtain to slip it over my body. It’s a simple design – thin straps at the top and a neckline that creates a swooping illusion as it falls. The fabric hugs my body, accentuating every single one of my curves in just the right places, and it ends in a small pool of fabric at my feet.
I smooth the fabric over my skin one last time before stepping out from behind the curtain. I catch a glimpse of myself in the massive mirror next to me and skip the princess twirl, instead stepping closer to the mirror.
“Oh, wow,” I breathe.
I run my hands over the delicate material of the dress, bringing them down my sides and back up again, then I give a half turn to see how it looks in the back.
