Page 84 of Unrivaled Love
"I don't really wear dresses." Feminine touches aren’t exactly my thing.
"Will you wear one for me?" Bryson asks as he pulls a yellow dress off the rack.
"Sure." I remember how delicate I felt in his arms in the lake. I can back squat 160lbs but he traced my form completely unfazed by my strength. I think I might like wearing dresses for Bryson. But if he expects me to wear them all the time or get all fancy to go out together he’s got another thing coming.
"This one." He says as he hands me the dress. The straps are wide and it has a tight fitting bodice until the skirt flares out at the hips.
"Why this one?" I ask as I hold it up over my body like that'll tell me anything about how it'll fit.
"Because it’s going to make your chest look fantastic and your legs look phenomenal. And I'll be thinking about taking it off you all night."
The heat in his eyes causes my cheeks to flush like I just spent the day doing sprints. This is the look of a man who is going to like me no matter what I’m wearing. Or not wearing. And if a little dress will fire him up this much I could be convinced to wear them more often.
When he hands me the same dress in another color, I smile. "For tomorrow?" He nods. “Okay, hold on while I try them on quickly.”
“Can I join you?” He asks with hands at my hips as he steps up close behind me.
“Absolutely not!” I scold and shut the dressing room door in his face.
“Jojo, c’mon let me see.” He whines.
“Call me Jojo again and I’ll castrate you.” I tell him as I slip the dress over my head.
“So Jojo is a no-no.”
I hate that I laugh but I do. “Exactly.”
The dress fits like a glove. It makes my tits look amazing. The permanent sports bra tan I’ve been rocking since high school is clearly visible with this neckline but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
I give a little twirl in the mirror. I’d love to find lacy boyshorts to wear because the hem brushes my fingertips at my thigh. I bet I can convince Bryson to stop at one last store after Athlala.
***
After our trip to Athlala where, with a quick call to his manager, the haul was approved, I was able to bribe Bryson to wait outside while I bought a few panties. We stopped for wraps and green juices after shopping and real food tasted amazing. We step out of the artificial air of the mall to the dry heat of Colorado in late July and I squint against the sun. He pulls out his phone to get us a rideshare and I sigh as I rake my hand through my hair.
"What's going on?" He asks, looking up from his phone.
“Nothing.”
“Jo, that sigh was like you just gave up an own goal in the 88th minute.”
“I would be cursing up a storm if that happened.”
“Fine, but you sounded down and out. What’s going on?” He presses and I pull at his t-shirt I’m wearing because I’m starting to sweat.
Or it could be an emotional response.
"I haven't told my mom I'm in Colorado yet and I'm not ready to tell her what happened.”
"Maybe if you tell me what happened it'll be easier to tell her." Bryson says
"Maybe," I agree begrudgingly. I pull out my phone and nod for Bryson to follow me to a bench in the shade. "Let me call Al and tell you both at once. The less I have to repeat this story the better.”
"I honestly cannot wait." His eyes sparkle with curiosity.
"This doesn't leave this circle of trust.” I point at him.
“So I shouldn't text the Big Guns?” He asks dead serious with his phone in his hand.
