Tom walked his fingers along the edge of the garment. He wasn’t sure what it was called. Rosie had always liked lingerie, in theory at least, but he understood that the stuff was expensive. She used to spend a few minutes looking at fantastic, lacy things online, add them to her shopping cart, and then quickly close her browser window.
“I’d like to see it on you,” he said in his mildest voice, proud of the way he enunciated without choking on the rush of desire that was drying his mouth out.
“…okay,” Rosie said, with just a tiny flash of pink as she licked her lips. She looked at the pink toile chaise, which faced away from the bathroom, and made a little gesture toward it. “Go sit down.”
Tom took direction well, and he went readily. He collapsedinto his seat, mind unmoored at this sudden change of fortune, and leaned back with his eyes closed to savor the rustling noises behind him. Fabric sliding across skin. Little snaps being fixed over Rosie’s small, curvy form.
He spread his arms across the back of the seat when he heard Rosie’s bare feet on the floorboards tiptoeing around to stand between his spread knees.
“Tell me when,” he said, eyes still closed.
Her breath made a small shift in the air, in and out. “When.”
He opened his eyes and paused on his own inhale. He hadn’t been sure what he was looking at in the suitcase, but this was a whole outfit: a black net bustier that wrapped Rosie’s curves and supported her round breasts with velvet-covered wires, then a short skirt that traced her hips and clipped to thigh-high stockings edged with the same black lace that formed her skimpy underwear. He was going to have a hell of a time figuring out how to get it off her, which he both wanted to do immediately and wanted to avoid doing at all if there was any creative way of working around it.
She was just an arm’s length away, and he’d instinctively reached out for her, but he limited himself to resting fingertips on her hips and brushing his thumbs over the little satin ribbons that held everything together.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Jesus Christ. You look so fucking pretty, Rosie.”
Tom had been more eloquent in his life, but never as sincere, and his words moved a little of the uncertainty off her face. He put his knees together so that he could urge her onto his lap, the whole warm, soft weight of her.
“Mm,” he hummed, burying his face against a bare spot over her collarbone, then kissing his way up her honey-scented neck. “I could have worn something better if I’d known I’d see this on you.”
Rosie tilted her face to look at his ratty T-shirt and lifted the hem with one fingertip. “You look pretty good in nothing though,” she suggested.
“I can pull off nothing,” Tom agreed, leaning back to peel his shirt off and toss it away. Rosie sighed and put her palms against his chest when it was bare, and the expression of admiration on her face was worth at least half the hours he’d spent on the goddamn medieval torture device to get into this shape.
He leaned up to kiss her again, which had the side effect of pulling her flush against his lap, her warm, lace-wrapped body rolling directly over his hardening cock. His lips were already open when they pressed against hers, but she was sweet about kissing him back, giving him just the corners and edges of her mouth before she finally opened to him. His tongue slid along hers while his hands pulled her closer against him.
The feel of her under his hands left him giddy and intoxicated. He didn’t know how this had happened to him, but he wasn’t wasting this opportunity to kiss her as much as he wanted to.
“Should we take this upstairs?” he asked breathlessly, when his lips started to feel swollen and bruised. He had no objection to the chaise or any other piece of furniture that caught Rosie’s fancy, but he’d have more room to maneuver around various strips of lace on the bed. Reacquaint his hands and mouth with every precious inch of her.
Rosie’s eyes were glittering over flushed cheeks, and she hesitated before she answered.
“I thought maybe wecouldplay a game,” she said.
He thought she was teasing him.
“I don’t think I can do enough math for Yahtzee right now,” he said. “Even naked Twister would be pushing it.” He kissed the tops of her breasts where they were pushed close to his face. Yeah, this thing should stay on.
Rosie shook her head, black curls brushing bare shoulders.
“I meant a game like—um. Bad secretary and the horny billionaire who never got HR training.” Her cheeks flamed even brighter as she spoke in a rush.
“Oh,” Tom said, surprised. “I…guess I’ve heard of that one?” He didn’t know which role he was supposed to play; it wasn’t like he’d never heard of gender norms, but if Rosie ever decided to be a secretary, she’d be a really good secretary, and who’d ever imagine Tom as the rich asshole?
He looked around the room, trying to imagine what she meant. “Am I supposed to make you coffee or spank you over the desk?”
He couldn’t spank her, actually—Rosie bruised like a peach. If he spanked her, by tomorrow she’d look like she’d been in a car accident. Did she mean she wanted him to put on cologne and a nicer shirt?
“Maybe later,” Rosie said, seeming to gather a little more courage. “I thought that—well, I thought I could start like this?” She rolled off his lap, then slid down to the floor, positioning herself on her knees and leaning up against his. Tom now had an idea of where things were going, but it was so closeto a number of very unlikely fantasies he’d entertained over the past couple of weeks that he didn’t do anything to assist beyond sucking in his stomach when Rosie unbuttoned the fly of his loose, tattered jeans.
He barely breathed, already dizzy with expectation and unable to think of a single thing he could say that wouldn’t wrongly suggest he thought he deserved this. Where had this come from? What did he do?
Rosie pulled his cock out of his boxers with careful hands and propped her elbows on his thighs as though making herself comfortable. Tom caught himself about to close his eyes again and forced them open, because this was the very best sight in the world.
No matter how Rosie filled his arms, she was built on a base of delicate little bird bones, and she had small, delicate hands and a round, delicate mouth. The contrast of either one wrapped around the taut head of his cock was the hottest fucking view imaginable, one that always made him feel like a demigod.
