wrap-around ribbon that holds the dress together right above my hip. Glancing down at myself, I thank God I wore a low-cut red lace bra this morning and the thing isn’t sticking out of the deep opening of the dress. All you can see is cleavage. Lots and lots of cleavage thanks to my full C cup boobs smooshed together in this bra.
Okay, so this dress is kind of nice. It falls right above my knees and it swishes when I twist my hips from side to side. Sam picked a good color to go with my long, dark red hair too. Turning the handle of the door, I step outside to see if Sam approves since he’s paying for the thing and find him standing a few feet away, shifting his shopping bag from one hand to another uncomfortably as store workers keep coming up to him, asking if he needs any help.
I clear my throat loudly and his head turns in my direction, prompting the helpful staff to finally walk away and stop pestering him. His face doesn’t show any emotion as he looks me up and down and I start to fidget with the skirt of the dress, wondering if I really do look like shit. Maybe green isn’t my color. Maybe my tits look like saggy bags of crap instead of high and perky.
Fucking hell, why doesn’t he say something?
“I knew it. I look like shit,” I huff, throwing my hands up in the air in irritation. With a quick turn, I stomp back into the dressing room and slam the door behind me, but never hear it click shut. When I start to turn around, I’m suddenly surrounded by man and I hear his foot kick the door closed.
“Um, this is the women’s dressing room, what are you doing?” I reprimand, trying to sound indignant, but failing when I hear his shopping bag drop to the floor and feel his palms on the outside of my thighs, slowly sliding upward.
“Holy shit, what are you doing?” I whisper brokenly when his hands move from the outside of my thighs to between my legs and continue moving upwards.
“This dress,” he groans. “Fucking hell, this dress. Do you have any idea how damn gorgeous you are?”
He removes one hand from the inside of my thighs and wraps it tightly around my waist, holding me securely against him.
“Put your hands on the wall,” he orders me in a hushed tone, shuffling his feet and moving us forward until I’m forced to do as he says before slamming face-first into the back wall of the dressing room.
“I need to touch you. Just for a minute, I promise. Please, let me touch you,” he begs in a low voice, his breath puffing against my ear as he takes the edge of my lobe in between his teeth and tugs on it.
“Fuck, yes,” I hiss, his hand finishing its path up the inside of my thigh and his fingers ghosting over the front lace of my thong.
“You’re so wet,” he mutters, placing a kiss in the crook of my neck.
His fingers continue moving lazily over the thin fabric until I want to grab his hand and shove his fingers inside of me. I’ve been wet since I met him and who knew this caveman action of shoving me into a dressing room and pushing me against a wall from behind would be such a turn-on.
“I knew this dress would look good on you, but God damn, Noel,” he murmurs, his fingers moving to the side of my thong and teasing their way under the edge of the lace.
I spread my legs just enough to urge him on and give him easier access, my head falling back onto his shoulder while he nuzzles his face into the side of my neck, placing tender kisses on my skin in between his words.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you. I’ve never been this fucking hard for anyone. Just you, Noel,” he confesses as his fingers finally dip inside the edge of my underwear and I feel him touching me for the first time.
We groan in unison when two of his fingers slide through the wetness his words and his teasing touch have created. One of my hands against the wall flies down to his arm around my waist and I dig my fingernails into his wrist when he moves his fingers in slow, perfect
Okay, so this dress is kind of nice. It falls right above my knees and it swishes when I twist my hips from side to side. Sam picked a good color to go with my long, dark red hair too. Turning the handle of the door, I step outside to see if Sam approves since he’s paying for the thing and find him standing a few feet away, shifting his shopping bag from one hand to another uncomfortably as store workers keep coming up to him, asking if he needs any help.
I clear my throat loudly and his head turns in my direction, prompting the helpful staff to finally walk away and stop pestering him. His face doesn’t show any emotion as he looks me up and down and I start to fidget with the skirt of the dress, wondering if I really do look like shit. Maybe green isn’t my color. Maybe my tits look like saggy bags of crap instead of high and perky.
Fucking hell, why doesn’t he say something?
“I knew it. I look like shit,” I huff, throwing my hands up in the air in irritation. With a quick turn, I stomp back into the dressing room and slam the door behind me, but never hear it click shut. When I start to turn around, I’m suddenly surrounded by man and I hear his foot kick the door closed.
“Um, this is the women’s dressing room, what are you doing?” I reprimand, trying to sound indignant, but failing when I hear his shopping bag drop to the floor and feel his palms on the outside of my thighs, slowly sliding upward.
“Holy shit, what are you doing?” I whisper brokenly when his hands move from the outside of my thighs to between my legs and continue moving upwards.
“This dress,” he groans. “Fucking hell, this dress. Do you have any idea how damn gorgeous you are?”
He removes one hand from the inside of my thighs and wraps it tightly around my waist, holding me securely against him.
“Put your hands on the wall,” he orders me in a hushed tone, shuffling his feet and moving us forward until I’m forced to do as he says before slamming face-first into the back wall of the dressing room.
“I need to touch you. Just for a minute, I promise. Please, let me touch you,” he begs in a low voice, his breath puffing against my ear as he takes the edge of my lobe in between his teeth and tugs on it.
“Fuck, yes,” I hiss, his hand finishing its path up the inside of my thigh and his fingers ghosting over the front lace of my thong.
“You’re so wet,” he mutters, placing a kiss in the crook of my neck.
His fingers continue moving lazily over the thin fabric until I want to grab his hand and shove his fingers inside of me. I’ve been wet since I met him and who knew this caveman action of shoving me into a dressing room and pushing me against a wall from behind would be such a turn-on.
“I knew this dress would look good on you, but God damn, Noel,” he murmurs, his fingers moving to the side of my thong and teasing their way under the edge of the lace.
I spread my legs just enough to urge him on and give him easier access, my head falling back onto his shoulder while he nuzzles his face into the side of my neck, placing tender kisses on my skin in between his words.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you. I’ve never been this fucking hard for anyone. Just you, Noel,” he confesses as his fingers finally dip inside the edge of my underwear and I feel him touching me for the first time.
We groan in unison when two of his fingers slide through the wetness his words and his teasing touch have created. One of my hands against the wall flies down to his arm around my waist and I dig my fingernails into his wrist when he moves his fingers in slow, perfect
Similar Books
