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In the changing room, I giggle as Jake finally releases me from his arms, shaking my head at him in disbelief. My face must match the color of the dress I’m trying to retrieve from the floor. His eyes are dark and wicked as he buttons up his shirt with a huge grin on his face as I try my hardest to get dressed without knocking into the thin walls in this cramped space.
I can’t believe he managed to get me naked and have sex without knocking these feeble walls down.
“Was this your plan from the word go? Claiming to need me in the changing room to admire your shirt choices?” I question him while trying to get my bra straps untwisted. He drops his shirt and straightens the strap on my shoulder, reaching behind me to smooth it. He answers with a wolfish grin, dimples on display.
Why am I even surprised by this? I should have known the second his hand ran under the waistband of my skirt as we walked to the changing area.
He’s close enough that I can practically lick his pecks without moving my head, the smell of him intoxicating as always. It’s insane how good he always smells. I am trying to keep quiet, knowing that the busy shop out front is probably aware of what we’ve been up to, seeing how it’s taken us almost forty minutes in the farthest dressing room to try on two shirts.
We tried to stifle the giggles and then the moans. Jake is incorrigible; only he could seduce all reason out of me and have me doing things in a boutique like this. He leans down and catches me in another passionate kiss, stilling me for a second, unable to ever refuse him.
“They won’t care as long as I spend copious amounts of money before we leave,” he winks, returning to doing up his shirt. He turns his attention to his jeans, adjusting things before buttoning them up. He’s effortlessly back to normal; it’s not hard when you always look casual and slightly ruffled.
I, on the other hand, am flushed. My hair is probably wild, and my dress has been crushed to death and wrinkled beyond repair as we have trampled on it a lot. I manage to step into the dress, holding it with an extended arm, the other hand against Jake’s torso for stability, and pull it up finally. Jake takes me to zip it up, pressing his mouth against my shoulder, before helping me slide my cardigan back on. We’d kept our shoes on as bending down in here is almost impossible, and I look around for my lacy panties but don’t see them anywhere. I frown, lifting first one foot and then the other, before noticing him watching me with a hint of a smile across his face.
“They’re in my back pocket,” he grins with a raised eyebrow, the wicked look returning.
“Why and how?” I laugh. I didn’t even see him retrieve them.
“Because that’s where I put them when I got them off you, and that’s where they’re staying until we get home. Maybe even after I go to LA.” He grins as I cross my arms and give him my best PA Emma look that means, ‘I don’t think so.’ He turns, ruffling my hair, and opens the door before striding out. I follow him, instantly annoyed.
Is he being serious? I can’t walk around in a short dress without underwear!
I follow him, attempting a grab at his back pocket, but his hand comes around, catching my wrist, and pulls me forward.
“There they stay,” he commands with that glint of commander and chief. I furrow my brows and try my best to angry glare, but it only amuses him more. “You’re unbelievably sexy like this,” he whispers, pressing his mouth to mine, still smiling through his kiss.
“Why would you want to leave me panty-less while walking the streets of windy New York in a very floaty dress?” I grind out through gritted teeth.
He stays close, his voice low, his hand tracing my lip seductively, “Because it’s all I’ll think about when we’re walking out there, and it will make me want to fuck you ten times more.”
“Like you need any encouragement,” I say with a raised brow, pushing a kiss on him and then walking away. If he wants to play games, then fine, he’ll regret this one. Jake likes his little sexual games, likes teasing me to death, and likes to have little internal jokes.
Maybe I should start learning to do the same.
Leaving the changing area, I walk into the shop, trying to push down my embarrassment as several women stop and glance at us with knowing looks. He brought me in here because he wanted some new shirts which he’s left lying in that changing room. Half the shop sells women’s clothes, so I casually stroll over to a rack as though I’m browsing. I wait until I know he’s followed me, then I bend just enough so that the hem of my dress rides up dangerously close to my ass. I slowly straighten and catch him watching. His hands move to his pockets as though he is about to surrender my underwear, and then he doesn’t. He leans back against a pillar, amusement on his face spreading.
Hmmm, so he wants to enjoy the show, does he? He thinks he knows what I’m doing.
I know his desire to protect my modesty will kick in, and he’ll give me back my underwear. I walk around a tier of shelves with underwear laid out and bend lower, this time to look at the bottom row of lacey things. My dress rides up and slides slightly, exposing a lot of my thigh. Even for me, it feels dangerously close to revealing my secret bits, the air feeling odd against my exposed parts under the dress, but I give nothing away. I hear him inhale heavily, despite being far away from me, as my dress skims dangerously close.
I spy a rail on the wall with some corset-style Basques and reach up to get one down, the motion of stretching lifting my dress high, not enough to expose me fully but enough thigh and long legs to get Jake to push off the wall and walk over behind me. I wait, sure I’ve won this little battle of the sexes with him regretting leaving me panty-less, but he lifts a corset down and hands it to me instead, his body brushing against me from behind and a warm hand flicking across my thigh just under the curve of my naked ass.
“I prefer black,” he smiles, taking the harlot red one from my hand and putting it back. I smile haughtily and turn away from him, throwing the black one over my shoulder.
Fine, maybe he needs a new kind of message tossed his way.
I move over to a wall of sexy lingerie and stand as though I’m trying to decide. Then from the shelf below, I pick up several pairs of boring panties in every color and throw him a defiant look. He suppresses a grin, still watching my every movement.
I’ve no ideas anymore; it’s like trying to beat a master at his own craft, and I’m failing.
I decide I’ll buy all these unattractive, ugly, full butt-covering, practical panties, and then I’ll go straight to the dressing room and put all of them on, just to annoy him.
And, yes, I’ll choose every color except black.
I throw him a rebellious look and drop the corset on the pile of panties as though it disgusts me.
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