Page 28
“Everything in her size,” I tell the manager. “Bring all of it.”
They bring all of it: dresses, silk, velvet, sequins, things with no backs and things with no fronts. Shoes, coats, and bags. Lingerie, so much lingerie, and I make sure every single piece of it goes into the dressing room. Then I send them all out front, and I follow her in.
The dressing room is bigger than most apartments. There’s a velvet couch, a pedestal, and a three-way mirror that goes all the way to the ceiling. She stands on the pedestal in a red silk dress that hugs every curve she has, and I sit on the couch and watch her.
“Turn around.”
She turns. The dress has no back. It dips all the way down to the top of her ass, showing every inch of smooth brown skin and the bite I left on her shoulder.
“We’re getting that one.”
“Nik, it’s eight thousand dollars.”
“We’re getting it in every color.”
Next is emerald green, tight and cut so low in the front I can see the curve of her breasts.
“No.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Too many people would see you in it.” I wave a hand. “Next.”
Next is gold sequins, short enough that her thighs are on full display. She turns in front of the mirror and looks at me over her shoulder, already smirking, because she knows.
“That one’s for the house,” I growl. “Only for the house.”
By the time she gets to the lingerie, she’s flushed and fidgeting, and I can smell how wet she is from across the room. The last piece is black lace, barely there: a bra that’s mostly straps and a pair of panties that are mostly nothing. She steps up on the pedestal in it and tugs at the edges like she can make it cover more.
I stand. I walk up behind her until my chest is pressed to her back and she’s caught between me and the mirror. My hands slide around her hips. My shadows pour out of me and spread up the walls until the room goes dim and private, until no one standing outside that door could see a single fucking thing.
“Nik,” she whispers. “Somebody’s gonna hear.”
“Then be quiet, sweetheart.”
A shadow slides down the front of her body and slips under the lace. She gasps and drops her head, turning her face away from the mirror.
I can’t look. Oh my God, I can’t look at myself like this…
“Look.”
It comes out of me in my true voice. It’s not a request or even an order. It’s an alpha bark, deep enough to shake the mirrors, layered with three hundred years of command. Her chin snaps up before she can stop it.
She stares at herself in the mirror, eyes huge, mouth open: eight thousand dollars of black lace with a monster wrapped around her from behind, his shadows sliding all over her skin.
“That’s it.” I put my mouth to her ear. “Watch.”
My shadows go to work. One circles her clit under the lace, slow and patient. Two more slide under the straps of the bra and pinch her nipples. Another one pushes inside her, deep and slow, and she bites her lip so hard to keep quiet that it turns white.
“Look at you,” I growl against her neck. “Look how fucking beautiful you are.”
She tries to look away again. I don’t even have to bark this time. I just grip her chin and turn her face back to the mirror.
“Eyes open, Red. I want you to see exactly what I see.”
She watches. She watches her hips start to rock, her thighs shake. She watches her own face fall apart, her mouth open, her eyes going glassy, my mark dark and perfect on her throat. She’s right at the edge. I can feel it.
Every shadow stops.
