Page 53 of Beautiful Secrets
That sinful smile is still plastered over his mouth. “Ready?” he asks as he leans on his elbows.
“For what?” I manage through a throat that suddenly feels too tight.
He tilts his head a little to the side, and runs his gaze over my face, my arms, my breasts.
“I have a surprise for you.”
20
Cole
I’m only mildly disappointed that my concierge couldn’t track down anything with pink glitter on it. Guess it’s not in fashion or something.
But she did find a unicorn.
Since I have no idea what Mika’s bra size is, I didn’t bother ordering her any. And underwear? I’ve always considered it optional, but somehow a three-pack of pink panties found their way into the order.
I haven’t seen how they look on Mika yet, since she came out of the closet wearing the jeans and unicorn T-shirt I sent her in with, but I have a brilliant imagination.
“This?” she says, tugging at the shirt. “I will not wear this.”
“Mika, Mika, Mika,” I tut, sidling up to her as I take in every glorious inch of her furious expression. “It’s so cute that you think you have a choice.”
“This is what little girl wears.”
“Which is what makes it so perfect, my little girl.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, and the unicorn’s horn is suddenly three dimensional.
Are her nipples hard because she’s angry? I didn’t know that was a thing.
I fucking love it.
“Give me a twirl,” I tell her, gesturing with my fingers.
She shakes her head, pale blond hair bouncing angrily around her head.
I show her the flat of my hand. “I think it’s a bit early in the day for a spanking, but if you insist…”
Her lips pull into a glorious pout before she lifts her arms and does a little twirl for me.
She would have made such a pretty—if short—ballerina. Wonder if she ever took classes?
I walk up to her, slowing when she looks like she wants to bolt. I want nothing more but to touch her—just run my fingers through her silky hair or smooth that fabric over her breasts—but instead I just stroke the air beside her arms.
“So what did you want to be when you grew up?” I ask her.
She steps back, furiously rubbing her arms as she scowls up at me. “A princess,” she announces.
Dead fucking serious.
“No shit?” I turn so she won’t see me failing to suppress a smile. “Planning on marrying into royalty?”
I realize my mistake as soon as I turn around and hold up another shirt for her to try on. Marriage, it seems, is more than just a touchy subject. Her shoulders are slumped, her eyes a darker shade of blue. Gone is the fire and the spite I love to see burning in those irises.
She takes the shirt from me and walks back into the closet, not even bothering to slam the door.
I hope she’s not crying in there.
