He considered it about ten seconds, but letting her get rules changed by annoying them into doing it would be a bad precedent. Once she got this first shopping trip behind her, they’d take her more often so there’d be shorter trips.
He shook his head.No new clothes unless one of us approves them in person.
The second hour, he was ready to strangle the next salesperson who tried to hard-sell him expensive shit to buy his lovely girlfriend. Even seasoned wolves back off when hegives his patented, flat, dead-eyed glare, but not salespeople in boutiques wearing five-inch heels, apparently.
As they neared the fourth hour, when they left Kohls and she said they were headed to TJ Maxx, he pulled out his phone and texted Silas.Get your ass to TJ Maxx. Now. If you aren’t here in thirty minutes I’m going to do things to our hawk that even YOU wouldn’t consider doing to her.
* * * *
Silas wasn’t sure what had brought Kenny’s text on, but he changed shirts and shoes, and was on the road in four minutes. It’s a thirty-minute drive under the best of circumstances, and the mall area in the weeks leading up to Christmas is a nightmare. Three minutes before the deadline, he texted while at a backed-up four-way stop that he was five to ten minutes away.
He arrived seven minutes after the deadline and followed Willow’s bright laugh through racks of clothes to the dressing rooms, where Kenny looked like a man three breaths from murder.
Silas leaned against the nearest display and drawled, “I’m dying to know what’s got my unflappable boss looking like he’s ten seconds away from going full berserker. What has our lovely girl done to you?”
Kenny’s glare could have flattened a wolf.
Fuck you. She’s yours. You’ll see.
Willow came out in a beautiful dress about that time and turned in a slow circle with a huge smile.
Silas said, “I like,” at the same time Kenny said, “No.”
Her smile faded and she looked between the two. “I know who gets the final say, but can I maybe ask for a game of rock-paper-scissors just this one time?”
What’s wrong with it?Silas telepathed Kenny.
With that long, tight skirt we can’t just raise it up and fuck her.
True, but we get to look at her ass all molded and pert.Aloud, he said, “Turn around and face the wall, count to ten, and then turn to look at the boots to your left.”
Fine,Kenny said when she turned to show her perfect little ass filling the dress to perfection,it’s your call, but the first time I can’t get to her ass when I want it, I’m cutting the dress before I fuck with peeling it up her body.
“It’s okay,” Willow said. “I like it but I don’t love it. I’ll try the next one on.” Her smile brightened. “And Sir, Silas is here to save you, so you can leave now, right?”
“Oh no,” Silas corrected smoothly, pushing off the rack. “I’m here to save myself. If Kenny goes feral and eats a cashier, I’ll be the one in charge of wrangling the fuckingcluband running the damned business until I can find someone qualified to hire. I’m perfectly happy running my restaurant, and lord help us all if Misty becomes my responsibility.”
Silas plucked a hanger off a rack of Christmas sweaters and dangled a hideous one so she could see it. Bright green with tan reindeer heads stitched across the chest, red bulbous noses exactly where her nipples would land. “Try this one on.”
Her eyes went as big as silver dollars. “No.” She swallowed. “Pleaseno, Sir.”
“Yes.”
Kenny actually smirked, which was Silas’s plan. “Do it, Willow.”
Five minutes later, she stood in front of them in the monstrosity, cheeks burning. Kenny smirked, and Silas steepled his fingers, studying her like a piece of art. “I’m buying it. And if you argue, I’ll make you wear it to the decoration party this weekend.”
She glared at him, spun, and went back into the dressing room.
Kenny left, and Silas took his chair. This wasn’t the first shopping trip with a female he’d been on. He needed to get an idea of how much time she took for a change before he started wandering the store.
He didn’t actually buy the hideous sweater, but he carried it around the store until time to check out. Taunting her, telepathing her about how only she and her owners would know they’d painted her nipples the brightest red possible under the sweater.
The next shop was worse for her, better for him. Silas insisted she try on every low-cut, cleavage-baring dress he could find, lounging on the little fitting-room sofa like it was a throne. She paraded out each time, glaring at him, and he only made thoughtful noises, as if considering stock prices instead of her breasts.
One of the dresses Silas found looked like it was created just for his little painwhore — emerald green, with a neckline that made her look like sin wrapped in velvet, a bodice that showed off her flat stomach and perfect hips, and the skirt somehow hugged her ass despite flaring out when she spun.
They spent way longer in the shoe store than either of them expected though. Willow went in like a general storming a battlefield, trying on pair after pair, but Silas caught sight of sleek black boots on the display and pointed. “Those. Try them.”
