“I figured. There’s no way you’d win me a prize at an arcade without an ulterior motive.”
“Maybe I’m a really nice person.”
“And all the money you spent on me…”
“I couldn’t expect you to pay!” I said, outraged at the idea. “Although, you did shout dinner. I can pay you back.”
He ignored that. “Now you’re expecting me to put out.”
“I’m not — don’t you want to?”
He met my gaze. “Yeah. I want to.”
I leaned forward and kissed him. His mouth was warm under my lips.
“Sorry,” I said, pulling back. “You were saying?”
“Uh…” He was staring at my mouth. “Forget it. We’ll talk later.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but I was quickly distracted by Taylor’s lips on mine, his hand gently cupping my jaw and sliding down my neck. His palm was so warm. When we pulled away for breath, I shifted my hips, trying to ease the discomfort of my erection pressing into my towel. Taylor looked down and let out a softohand slid the towel off. My cock, once free, bobbed up in the air, and my skin went hot with embarrassment.
Taylor pushed himself off the bed and stood between my spread legs, hands on my thighs. He trailed them up, precariously close to my dick, then past my hip bones and up my sides, until they landed on my chest, thumbs grazing over my nipples, making them pebble.
“Hang on,” I said, grabbing his arm. I wasn’t that far gone. Yet. “I’m the boss here.” I pushed him back and he reluctantly let go. “Get the bag.” I nodded at the desk.
Taylor followed my gaze and his shoulders dropped. “Don’t.”
I smiled.
He muttered something, too low for me to catch, then walked over to the desk and brought the paper bag over to me, tossing it a bit rougher than expected for someone who was supposed to be my slave. Nonetheless, I held my tongue and pulled out the plastic packaging for the French maid costume.
“I think,” Taylor said, watching me peel open the plastic, “you’re meant to wash it before using it.”
“We don’t have time. It’ll be fine.”
“If I get a rash all over my body, it’s your fault.”
“I’ll nurse you back to health,” I promised, pulling out the flimsy polyester costume. “Here.”
Taylor took it. “It’s not going to fit.”
“You can try.”
“Are you seriously—”
“You made me wear that collar,” I interrupted. “It’s only fair.”
He glared at me, then dropped his towel, letting it pool at his feet. I inhaled sharply at the sight of his rigid cock, thick and pink, but I didn’t get to stare for long, because he was stepping into the dress. It was short and gaped around his chest, where it was meant to be filled out with a woman’s breasts, and it was clearly tight around his torso, but other than that, the elastic seemed to work well.
“Is it uncomfortable?” I asked.
“Extremely.”
He tried tugging the hem down, so it covered more than one inch of his thighs. It didn’t work. I grinned and when he saw me, his cheeks reddened.
“Satisfied?” he demanded.
I nodded. “Get on your knees.”
