"There's more?"
"There's always more."
I went into the never-used dining room and picked up the packages. I'd had them delivered to the condo. Both boxes were wrapped in metallic wrapping paper and decorated with large pink bows.
Josie clapped her hands when she saw the boxes. "They're so shiny!" She carefully unwrapped them. "I want to save the paper," she explained. She opened the box and immediately started laughing.
57
Josie
Ipulled the tiny strip of black lacy lingerie out of the tissue paper. "Is this what I think it is?" I asked, laughing.
"While they don't sell shelf bras in the small, wholesome town of Harrogate, they do sell them all over the place in Manhattan," Mace said. From the expression on his face, I knew he was salivating to see me in the shelf bra.
"You have a dirty mind, Mace," I teased. "I knew someone who fixated on schedules was up to no good."
"Getting you off in the office didn't clue you in?" he asked innocently.
"Dare I ask what's in this box?" I said as I wriggled the top off then gasped. In the box were a familiar pair of fishnet stockings attached to a pair of black open-toe stilettoes. "You didn't!" I said, laughing.
"I can't believe they sell these in Harrogate but no shelf bras," he said, grinning. "Seems like they should go hand in hand."
"Where is your bathroom?" I asked, picking up the items. "I'm going to try these on."
"Down the hall, take a right into what looks like a sitting room but then keep going through the master bedroom, and it's on your left."
I blinked at him.
"On second thought," Mace said, picking me up as I shrieked. "Let me just take you there. Can't have you getting lost."
I shooed him out of the bathroom when he set me down. Partly because I had to sit on the floor with my legs up in the air to put on tights and partly because I needed to have a mini orgasm, looking at his bathroom.
It was huge—at least three times the size of my tiny house. It was white and gray, with similarly polished concrete countertops to the kitchen and a large plush rug in the center of the room in front of the tub.
I did some quick yoga poses just because I could. Even though Mace said he was never here, the whole place smelled like him. I stripped, and when the slightly chilly air hit my nipples, they went pebble hard.
Laying back on the rug, I slowly eased my feet in the shoes then rolled the black fishnet tights up. Though surely the designer didn't expect people to go commando with these shoes-tights, underwear would look dumb. I was just glad that I had mowed the lawn before I came to the conference.
I put on the shelf bra. It was soft, softer than it looked with all the lace. It must have been expensive. It was like a pushup bra, with the cups missing. I turned around to look at myself in the mirror, thinking I was going to look stupid, but actually I looked, well, it was really erotic. The high heels on the shoes perked up my butt. The waistband on the fishnets sat at the narrowest part of my waist, accentuating the curve. Though the shelf bra was small, it did live up to its name. My boobs were pushed up, the nipples high and erect. On the back of the shoe-tights, there was a black ribbon down each leg like you would see in the vintage tights from the forties. It was like a landing strip from my feet to my happy place.
I swung the bathroom door open and sauntered out. Mace stood up off the bed and said, "Fuck."
"That's the idea," I told him. I walked up to him. He brought up his hands but didn't touch me, just ran them down the airspace around me. I could feel the warmth radiating off them.
"You are so fucking hot," he growled. His voice was low and deep; it rumbled around the room. Mace looked at me like I was a dessert buffet and he wasn't sure if he wanted to start with the macarons or the mousse.
"You're wearing too many clothes, Mr. CEO," I told him. Just seeing the desire on his face was making me wet and hot.
I reached up to loosen his tie. That contact jumped the spring, and Mace crushed me to him, devouring my mouth, his hands running up and down my body, cupping my ass, stroking my breasts. He kissed his way down my neck to a breast, putting it in his mouth, rolling the nipple with his tongue.
"Your tits are so amazing," he whispered as his fingers traced the lace edges of the bra. I let my fingers comb through his hair, and Mace undid the buttons on his dress shirt while he teased my nipples.
When his shirt fell to the floor, he stood tall before me. His large hands rested on my hips, his thumbs running along the narrow black waistband of the fishnet tights. I let the palms of my hands rest on his collarbones then travel down over the slight curve of his pecs then over the ridges on his abs to his belt.
As I undid it slowly, my nipples, high and perky because of the shelf bra, brushed against the skin of his chest. My pussy felt hot and wet, and I just wanted him to touch me. I wanted his hand and his tongue and his cock.
Instead of giving me what I craved, he was making this infuriatingly slow motion of running his fingertips over the wide fishnet pattern. I threw his belt to the floor then undid his pants.
