“I like the spaghetti straps.” She does a slow twirl. “And the way it subtly drapes at the neck.”
So do I.
She turns one way, then the other, spinning around, and pauses to check her back in the mirror behind her, stretching her neck to get a better view. “I can’t wear a bra with it, though.”
I have no idea what to reply to that, so I stay quiet, my fingernails digging into the wood deep enough to leave scratches, my short nails bending under the strain.
“There’s a tiny fastener at the top of the zipper I couldn’t do up; could you help me?” She pivots sharply, the light catching her hair.
Hesitantly, I uncurl my fingers from the armchair and rise, only taking two steps to reach her, clenching and unclenching my fists to pump the blood back into them.
Behind her now, I take a deep breath in before locating the little clasp to keep the zipper secured at the top.
With shaky hands, I pull the fabric off her back and try once, then twice, before finally locking the two fiddly metal pieces together, being careful not to touch her skin because I might never want to stop.
“Done.” I look up and see her in the mirror, my cock eagerly springing to life in my boxers. Every inch of her looks irresistible, her sun-kissed skin radiant and glowing, and the airbrushed gradient-effect dress makes her seem like something out of a dream.
“You look beautiful, Sapphire.”
Redness crawls up her neck, creeping upward to her cheeks. “I thought you’d hate the dress,” she whispers as I close the few inches between us, my front almost flush with her back.
“I don’t hate it. It’s perfect.”
“But it’s not gray.”
I love it and want to peel it off her body, slowly, to savor every minute and unwrap her like a gift. One layer at a time, first slipping the thinnest straps of the dress off her shoulders to reveal her tits that look perfect whatever she’s wearing and I know will be even more perfect bare. Too many times I’ve imagined what color her nipples are. Warm, soft rose, like her lips, I think. The thrill of not knowing is almost too much for me, and I wouldn’t start with her nipples, instead, I’d lift her dress and bury myself between her legs, and have her smother me with her pussy so she could wrap her sexy little cowboy boots she often wears around my ears. Then I’d tease that belly ring of hers between my teeth too. The one I’ve been thinking about since the day we went for coffee. Then I’d lick her toned stomach and run my tongue over her perfect curves I want to spend hours getting better acquainted with. I want to be patient but I’m not sure I could be.
She’s dangerously magnetic and sets something alight inside of me I don’t want to extinguish.
I lift my hand slowly to her hair and brush the pale-blue ends with my fingertips. It’s softer than I imagined, like pastel clouds in a watercolor dream.
“Blue, lavender, mint green, and pink are fast becoming my favorite colors,” I admit. That’s just some of the shades she dyes her hair.
“Yeah? You’re wearing a blue shirt today and a blue tie. Is that to match my hair?”
I’m more transparent than a freshly poured glass of spring water.
I nod, unable to form words. My fingers tingle with anticipation, our eyes fixed to one another in the mirror.
It’s impossible to explain what I do next, and I can’t stop myself as I sweep her hair from off her shoulder.
On autopilot, I drop my lips to the curve of her neck, my eyes never leaving hers, and I kiss her soft skin. Just once. Enough for her to eat up the small space left between us and press her body against mine, which is precisely what I want.
There is no way she won’t feel how hard my cock is for her as she wiggles her perfect ass against my thickening length, pulling a groan from my chest.
This is the closest we’ve ever been, and I close my eyes, inhaling the way she smells, tasting her on my lips, soaking in this feeling of deep contentment.
I kiss her skin again, slightly harder this time, moving closer to the spot behind her ear and kiss her over her quickening pulse, goosebumps rising across her skin.
Watching her in the mirror once more, I find the courage to wrap my arm around her waist and hold her tight, enjoying every single second of whatever is happening between us.
With one hand, she reaches up and then digs her fingers deep into my hair, her fingernails grazing my scalp, sending electric tingles down my spine, cascading in waves.
“Sapphire.” I sigh, then lightly bite at her earlobe.
“Don’t stop, Elijah.”
Using my full name makes everything stop, and I freeze, step back. My lips leave her skin, and my hands drop from around her.
