If Wes thinks it’s strange that I’m going to model a bunch of costumes that are primarily meant for him and his character, he doesn’t let on. Maybe he doesn’tsuspect anything. Him sitting on the couch as I show him different outfits has become such a regular part of our routine—as I experiment with new clothes and styles and fashions—that it might even seem normal to him.
I pause in the doorway, my heart racing. “Just one rule, okay? The costumes are all still a bit delicate, so don’t touch anything. Just looking, okay? And you have to stay on the couch.”
Wes makes a show of obediently sliding his hands underneath him and sitting on top of them. “Jedi’s honor,” he promises me.
I hurry to put on the first costume I’ve made. Ihavebeen hard at work making the different outfits Ryko will wear based on the challenges he’ll be completing, but if everything goes as planned today, I won’t be showing any of them to Wes.
Instead, I put on a dress I’ve made for myself, complete with a headdress and bracelets and boots. I check myself in the mirror to make sure everything is just right before going back out into the living room.
Wes smiles instinctively at the sight of me, then he straightens once he realizes what I’m wearing. I watch his eyes roving over me, the way he swallows, slow and hard.
“What do you think?” I ask, doing a twirl for him.
I copied my design from one of his many sketches of Princess Annais—the dream fantasy girl who bears more than a passing resemblance to me. She isn’t going to be part of theGeekOutshow—mostly because I have no interest in being an actress, nor in watching my boyfriend pretend to be in love with anyone else ever again—but I thought he might enjoy seeing her come to life. For his eyes only.
This costume isn’t anything particularly outrageous, just a fitted emerald-colored dress that hugs my frame, but I can tell from the look on Wes’s face that he really, really likes what he sees.
He starts to rise to his feet, but I hold out two hands, stopping him. “Wait! You aren’t supposed to stand up, remember? And no touching. Just stay right there, on the couch.”
Wes swallows again, his gaze traveling over my body once more before finding mine again. “What is this, Nina?”
“Doyou like it?”
“I really, really like it.” It might be just my imagination, but I think I see Wes’s lap area start to twitch and ...expand, for lack of a better term. That, coupled with the intense look in his pale green eyes, sends heat flaring through me. “Are you going to get any closer ... ?”
“Not yet,” I tease him, disappearing into the other room.
I know I could go to him right away, climb onto the couch with him, tell him he can touch me now, and I’d likely get what I want, what I’ve been waiting for. But I’ve had so much time to think about this moment, to plan it out in my head, that a part of me wants to get it exactly right. And, okay, yes, there are also more costumes I made that I want to show him.
So I make Wes sit and watch me as I try on more pieces, each one more revealing than the last. More cleavage. A higher slit up the leg. A shorter skirt.
By the time I come out in my last costume, there’s no ambiguity whatsoever about whether Wes’s lap is expanding. His cock juts up through the fabric of his gray sweatpants. Nevertheless, he’s remained true to his promise to stay on the couch, hands underneath him, even though I can tell it’s driving him crazy.
“Whoa,” he gasps out when he sees what I’m wearing now.
It’s the costume Annais wore for the forest people—the thinly disguised excuse for Wes to draw me practically naked. All I’m wearing is a slash of fabric for my skirt, a headdress—and nothing else. No shoes, no socks. No shirt, no bra. No underwear. Just like in his sketch, I’ve parted my long hair so it falls down on both sides of my chest, covering my breasts, but only just.
“Do you like this one?” I ask him directly. There’s no need to pretend I’m doing anything other than what I am anymore. This is a full-on seduction.
My body spikes with pleasure as Wes squirms on the couch, his eyes raking over me, the muscles in his neck working overtime. “Nina. Come over here.Please.”
I bite my lip, pretending to consider it. “You’ll keep your hands to yourself unless I tell you otherwise?” At his groan of protest, I remind him, “Iamthe captain, after all.”
“O captain, my captain,” he moans his agreement, even if it does sound completely anguished.
Slowly, I move toward him. My heart is pounding, both in excitement and some fear. Not because of Wes—I trust him completely, want him completely. Butthese are unchartered waters for me. Even though this won’t be the first time I have sex, it will be the first time I do so fully consenting, fully choosing this for myself.
And I do. My body, already hopelessly excited by the situation, comes even further to life the closer I get to Wes. My breasts feel tight, heavy. My core throbs with heat. I come to a stop just short of touching him, loving the way he’s looking at me, the way his body teems with almost tangible need. For me.
“Is this what you imagined?” I ask him. I turn in a slow circle to show him the full effect, and he groans again.
“Yes, lovely,” he says. “Only better. So much better.”
Smiling, heart thudding in my chest, I climb into his lap so that I’m straddling him. As I brush up against his cock, Wes groans, his head thudding against the back of the couch. “Fuck. Nina. Please. Let me touch you. I need to touch you.”
I know. I feel it, too. I need him to be touching me. This was just supposed to be about me teasing him, playing with the control he’s given me, but now that I’m here, almost naked, on top of him, feeling him buckling underneath me, trying so desperately to stay still for me—I realize something else has been at play, too. He told me I was the boss, that I was in charge. After everything that’s happened to me, I think I needed to know, for certain, that this is true. That my body is mine. That I decide what course it takes.
Closing my eyes, I press my forehead to his. “Soon,” I promise him quietly, then take a moment to catch my breath.
