Page 36 of Three Bites

The blue silk of the bra and panties was decorated with what looked like little sapphires, glinting, mesmerizing speckles of blue which underlined the beauty of the garment. Delicate lace shot through the fabric, leaving exquisite patterns in its wake. And the crowning gem in the collection was the pantyhose with a sky-blue garter belt.

I wanted to wear it. To feel that silkiness over my skin. Under Tristan’s fingers.

I let the towel I was still wearing drop to the floor, unabashed in my nakedness in the face of such a wicked gift.

“Put your gifts on me. All of them,” I entreated, my words not quite an order and not quite a plea.

Tristan reached for the bra first, his hands holding it as if it were an offering to a goddess as he put it on me. The cups cradled my bosom perfectly as he closed the fastenings. Then the panties were carefully drawn up my legs until they laid flush with my bottom, exposing as much as they were hiding.

Maybe putting the pantyhose on would be easier with me sitting, but we were locked in a tableau in the middle of the room and Tristan chose to kneel and let me support myself on his shoulders as he rolled the pantyhose up my legs and secured it to the garter belt with little clasps.

After the last clasp was in place he pulled back and seemed stunned by the sight.

“You are a vision, Victoria,” he whispered reverently.

“So are you, on your knees,” I responded.

“That’s a man’s place in front of his Queen,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I looked over at the marvelous dress.

“Make me beautiful, my valiant servant,” I said.

“You are already beautiful,” Tristan argued. “But I can add a backdrop to make your beauty shine. That’s all this dress is.”

I knew I wasn’t plain but the three vampires seemed to be delusional about how pretty I was. The worst part? I liked that. It made something warm flare in my chest and stay with me for hours after one of the three men praised me.

The dress with its many layers was one of those costumes you could hardly put on alone but, with Tristan acting as my butler, the rich material ensconced me with barely a wrinkle to the pristine fabric. Dexterous hands tightened the fastenings at the back of the dress and looped the ends into a pretty bow. I gathered my hair into a bun and secured it with a blue ribbon, adding a flower pin to hold it in place.

My transformation into a butterfly was complete.

I spun, letting the dress flare. In Tristan’s eyes, in how they were shining with fervor of admiration, I saw the reflection of my own allure and I could almost understand how he saw me. How in his eyes I was the one who was the fairytale creature.

“Do you like it?” Tristan asked. “The outfit?”

“The lingerie?” I shot back cheekily. “Yes, I love it. Now, what would you like as thanks for such a wonderful gift?”

“No thanks are needed,” he insisted. “It’s my privilege to be allowed to gift you happiness, in whichever form I can give it.”

“Still, I want you to ask for what you want.” I placed my hand on his chest, destroying the distance between us. I wanted to be closer. He only had to ask and I would let him explore how the lingerie fit my body.

“Is that so? Then please grant this silly old man his wish. Victoria, will you dance with me?”

That was all he was asking for? Truly a silly old man. A gentleman, a rare breed on the brink of extinction. What he meant by dancing was probably the kind of stuffy ballroom dancing I was subjected to as an upper-class socialite. I wasn’t a fan of that, to say it mildly.

“Sure, if you give me your phone and I can pick the music,” I said with a smirk.

Tristan did so without a peep of protest. When the first notes of a famous pop song started playing, I expected the older man to be thrown off his game. He surprised me by immediately jumping into action, mirroring my moves, complementing them, adding his own spins for us to integrate into the dance routine.

He was... he was really matching my freak!

After the song was over and we stopped, grinning breathlessly at each other, I reached for the phone and this time I pulled up some old-style swing.

“Darling, I was there when this dance style was first invented. Let me show you some moves.”

And, holy cow, did Tristan have moves. He responded to my steps as if he was reading my mind, and when he took my hand to lead and twirl me until I was pressed against his body or flawlessly performed the move where I slid between his legs, I felt so full of life, of energy, I could burst.

“Well, I see the old fox did get you panting, just not in the way I thought he would,” Matthias intruded after the song, his form leaning nonchalantly against the door.

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