Page 116 of Just Wait

My dick hardens as I get a view of the back of the dress. I wish I was better equipped to describe it, but the top straps meet in the bottom of a V.

A large bow covers the middle of her back, and the straps cascade from under it, forming an upside-down V. Basically, her entire back is showing down to just above her ass. Maybe that’s called a scooped back?

Fuck if I know, but it fits her perfectly.

“Okay, I think you have that on backwards,” I lie, smirking at her in the mirror that she’s busy studying. “That bow is totally meant to cover your tits.”

“No way…” Her eyes get huge.

“I’m just fucking with you, sweetheart.” I chuckle. “But fucking hell, that dress is perfect.”

“I didn’t mess up the straps?”

“You didn’t.” I slide up behind her, planting my hands on her hips as our eyes meet in the mirror. “Is this cotton?”

“Yep,” she agrees, running her hand over her middle. “It’s light and soft. I kinda love it.”

“It was made for you,” I say, and I’m not exaggerating. “You have to get this one. Hell, get it in every color they have.”

She’s always stunning. The cut of the dress just manages to accentuate her natural curves. It flares around her hips and ass, making her backside pop even more than normal while exaggerating her natural hourglass shape.

I think it’s something about the triangles formed with the straps, but it lengthens her torso while drawing my gaze to her shoulders and arms.

My bite would look really fucking nice on that long neck of hers.

Aww, shit.

“We have that club show in Myrtle Beach tomorrow night,” I say, running my fingers down her side. “This dress is perfect.” I tease back up again, brushing my fingers under the curve of her right tit.

The dress shows off the full curve of the bottom of her breasts, but the material is just thick enough that I can’t make out her nipples. With the practically nonexistent back of the dress, I’m not sure if she could even wear a strapless bra, though I’m sure this place carries pasties or that tape women use.

“This one is a little out of my budget, but I could splurge,” she whispers, rolling her bottom lip through her teeth. “I’m just not sure it’s worth it. I wouldn’t get much use out of it in daily life.”

I can understand why she’s struggling. She’s worried about paying off her apartment complex, and she’s not working. Watching her face in the mirror, I can see her debating between snatching up the dress that was clearly meant for her and being responsible.

Lifting her arm, I check the price tag. It’s just under four hundred dollars. Back before Liminal took off, I would have had to debate a purchase like this too.

Now?

I could buy her one of everything in this store, and it wouldn’t touch a twentieth of what I have in savings.

My hand comes to rest on her stomach, and I pull her into my chest. It’s a battle to choose my words.

I don’t want to scare her off, but I also don’t want her to spend the rest of the afternoon obsessing about money.

My chin comes to rest on her shoulder, and I tease my palm over her abdomen.

“I’ve spent the last six or seven years hoarding money,” I say, feeling like I’m dancing around landmines. “Growing up poor really fucked with my head. I’m finally at a point where I can indulge here or there without feeling guilty or like I’m being wasteful. Let me spoil you today, sweetheart? Please? I’m the one who asked you out on this date. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I feel like everything we do today should be my treat.”

“Date?” she squeaks as her eyes get comically large. “Is this a date?”

“I thought so.” I smirk, shrugging. “Is there a new term the kids are calling it nowadays?” I chuckle. “Come on, Lumen. Don’t make me feel old.”

She laughs.

“I’m serious,” I say, patting her stomach. “I want to take you out, buy you nice things, maybe eat a meal together here or there, and spend time really getting to know you. Whatever that’s called, I want to do it.”

“Yeah.” Her long lashes flutter. “That’s definitely dating.”