Page 46 of Dirty Love

“I have a signal disrupter in my phone case that scrambles most modern tech. But the point remains, it’s a bad idea. Not to mention sex with you is never tidy or quiet. I don’t want to have to make a mess for a salesperson to clean up.”

“Oh, noble sir—”

I slap my hand against the inside of her thigh. “Nothing noble about me. You want me to fuck you in a change room? I can give you that now. Wait. Right. Here.”

This place is way swankier than the shitty hotel room I had in L.A., and from the second she started her little show at Knight’s, I knew what I wanted to do with her when we got back here.

There’s a big-ass antique mirror in the corner, next to the window. I move the oversized upholstered chair from the other corner and position it in front of the mirror.

Then I stalk back to where Tabitha is leaning against the wall, grinning at me, and I hoist her onto my shoulder. With my free hand, I pick up her shopping bag from Knight’s.

She shrieks as I carry her across the room, but her protest turns to a sweet little moan when I set her down in front of the mirror.

“Try on the red one,” I tell her, my voice rasping.

My dick is hard enough to pound nails as I settle into the chair.

She stands in the space between me and the mirror and repeats the same stripping routine that got me so hard when we were on Fifth Avenue.

It would have the same affect now if I weren’t already threatening the seams of my suit pants.

She pulls her dress off, then reaches for the new purchase.

“Lose the panties,” I growl.

She skims her fingertips over her tattoo and notches her thumbs on the skinny side pieces. “You’re not supposed to try on clothes without your underwear on,” she says, biting her lip.

I grin. “I’ll buy the dress, guaranteed. Now show me your pussy. And remember to be quiet. We don’t want the sales girl to hear us.”

She presses her lips together, quiet as a church mouse, and gets herself naked. Then she smoothes the red dress over her her body. The deep vee in front plunges almost to her navel, and the asymmetrical hem goes down to her sandals on one side, but cuts high on her thigh on the other.

It’s perfect.

She’s perfect.

“You like this one best?”

“I really do. Come here.” I pull her into my lap, nestling her ass against my straining dick. “Let me see you.”

I don’t mean the dress.

I mean her curves, her cunt, every last inch of her sexy-as-sin body.

Mine.

First I brush along the inner swells of her breasts, raising goosebumps I want to cover with jizz. I want her on her knees, begging for me to mark her with my seed.

All in good time.

The neckline peels back, baring her breasts. Her head falls back beside mine and I kiss her jaw, wet and hot.

“Eyes on the mirror,” I whisper as I move my hands, palms flat, up and over them. Her nipples are hard little pebbles. “You are so fucking sexy,” I mutter, watching her watch me. “Look at how hard your nipples are. I bet you’re soaking wet for my already, aren’t you?”

She bites her lower lip and nods, her entire body trembling.

I ghost my hands down her body, heading for that hemline, and when I find it, I curl my fingers around the fabric. Her thighs are smooth and warm, and my head begins to buzz as I crawl the skirt up her legs, rubbing her skin with my knuckles the whole way to her hips.

In the mirror, we both watch as I bare her cunt, our role-play that of an illicit, time-sensitive fuck in a change room.

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