Armani stands up again and runs a hand between my legs, pressing the fabric against my pubic bone. The feel of the soft satin and his warm hand against my freshly waxed skin jacks my desire.
“Now the garter belt,” he says.
All I can do is glare at him as he dresses me in a matching satin and lace garter belt and sheer black nylon thigh-highs, expertly attaching the garter straps to the top of the stockings. When he’s done, he steps back to admire his work. I glance in the mirror behind him and the first thing I notice about my reflection is how pissed off I look. The second thing I notice is how hot this garter set is.
Almost as if I’m under a spell, I run my hands down my breasts, along the curve of my waist, my hips, and then I give the elastic straps a little snap. I barely register the sound of Armani’s groan before he’s shoving me against the wall, his hot hands gliding up the backs of my thighs, his nose pressed into the soft skin below my ear. Gasping, I loop an arm around his neck.
And then I realize what we’re doing.
“Stop,” I whisper harshly. “We can’t do this in here.”
He ignores me and dips a finger inside the panties—which is when I realize they’re actually crotchless—and then runs his fingertip along my seam, making me whimper.
“Yes we can,” he says.
“Armani—”
I try to push him away but he pushes his finger inside me, so deep and delicious that I instantly go weak in the knees, sagging against him.
“Tell me to stop,” he teases me cruelly, pumping faster, curling his finger inside me to press against my G-spot.
But I can’t. He knows I can’t. I’m soaking wet and throbbing already, and he’s fingering me so good that I can’t bear denying myself. So I close my eyes and give in, riding the pleasure. My anger at him is only fueling my lust, and by now Armani is extremely well versed in exactly the right moves to get me off. His other hand slides over the base of my throat as he leans his chest harder against my breasts, trapping me completely against the wall.
“More,” I pant, my hips jerking in time with every pump of his expert fingers.
He rubs my clit with his thumb, his teeth nipping at my earlobe, working me faster, harder. God, how does he do this? His fingers feel like an actual cock, the pump and glide so perfect I can almost pretend we’re actually fucking. A moan escapes me and I bite down on my lip, the thought of the store employees listening to us making me both ashamed and turned on in equal measure. I’m going to—
“Yes,” I whisper breathlessly, feeling my climax approaching. “Yes, yes, y—”
“Oh, no you don’t,” he says, pulling his hand away.
No, no, no.
“What the hell?” I yelp, stumbling as he steps back.
“That’s enough for now,” he says.
“Um, excuse me?” I say, incredulous.
“Nice smooth pussy,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks out of the dressing room.
Bastard.
4
CANDI
After the incidentin the dressing room, I refused to try on anything else. It didn’t make a difference. By the time I got my clothes back on, Armani had already told the stylist that we’d take every single piece of fancy lingerie she’d picked out for me. I anticipated a very silent, very tense hour on the ride back home. When we got back into the car, however, Donovan didn’t drive us to Napa.
He drove us to the airport.
After we get dropped off and taken through a VIP security checkpoint, we’re driven to a hangar where a private jet is waiting. When we get on board, I quickly realize that Armani, a single flight attendant, and the two pilots in the cockpit are going to be my only companions for the duration of the journey. There are eight seats in total, all singles, all window seats of course, and they’re all empty.
“You chartered this plane just for us?” I ask incredulously. I can’t imagine how expensive it was.
“No. My family owns this jet,” Armani says nonchalantly, sliding into a seat.
Hot damn. I didn’t realize the Bellantis had a private plane. It’s as high end and fancy as I’d expect, nothing but leather and polished wood everywhere, but try as I might, I can’t get comfortable in my plush seat. Nor can I bring myself to sip the red wine the flight attendant hands me. She also gives me a sleeping mask, a pillow, a pair of sherpa slippers, and a very luxurious blanket, all of which suggest that this is going to be a long flight indeed…but I’m not in a napping mood.
