Page 60 of Better When Shared
"What do you think?" I held up a black lace bodysuit with strategically placed cutouts. "Would you and Julian enjoy unwrapping me in this on Christmas morning?"
Caleb's tongue darted out to wet his lips, a gesture that never failed to make my core clench with want. "I think," he said, voicedropped to that low register that meant trouble, "you should try it on. For quality control purposes."
"Is that so?" I selected my size and a deep emerald green set that matched his eyes. "And will you be providing your expert opinion?"
He took a step closer, fingers brushing mine as he reached for the hangers. "I insist."
The saleswoman directed us to the fitting rooms, her knowing smile suggesting we weren't the first couple with intentions beyond simple shopping. Caleb waited outside while I entered the luxurious cubicle, larger than most, with a plush bench along one wall and multiple mirrors that would offer views from every angle.
He slipped inside, locking the door behind him before turning to watch me with predatory focus. I removed my coat slowly, then my blouse, letting each button slip free with deliberate precision.
"You're torturing me," he observed, settling onto the bench, legs spread, the growing bulge in his jeans impossible to miss.
"That's the point," I replied, unzipping my skirt and letting it pool at my feet.
I stood before him in just my everyday underwear—simple black cotton, nothing fancy—but the hunger in his gaze made me feel like I was wearing the finest La Perla. His hands clenched on his thighs, restraining himself from touching me.
"The green or the black?" I asked, fingertips teasing the edge of my bra strap.
"Green," he decided. "Though I doubt you'll be wearing it long enough to matter."
I turned away, feeling his eyes burning into my back as I unhooked my bra and slipped on the emerald lace. The matching thong followed, the delicate fabric a whisper against my already slick folds. When I faced him again, his composure had visibly fractured.
"Christ," he breathed. "You're a fucking fantasy."
"Your fantasy?" I stepped between his spread legs, my hands settling on his shoulders.
His fingers slid up my thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Mine. Julian's. Ours."
“There’s that word again.” I straddled him then, the thin lace of the thong rubbing against his clothed erection. His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear that made me whimper.
"Quiet," he admonished, one hand sliding up to cup my breast through the lace. "Unless you want the entire ladies' department hearing what a desperate little slut you are for me."
His crude words sent liquid heat rushing between my legs. This was Caleb at his most dominant—the proper British exterior giving way to filthy demands and possessive touches. I rocked against him, creating delicious friction that had us both breathing harder.
"Need you," I whispered, fingers fumbling with his belt. "Now."
He helped me, unfastening his trousers with practiced efficiency. His cock sprang free, already leaking at the tip.
I stroked him. "I want Julian to taste you inside me later. Want him to know I'm yours too."
His control shattered. With a low growl, he yanked the delicate thong aside and thrust up into me in one powerful stroke. I gasped at the sensation—the stretch, the fullness, the intimacy of having him alone like this. He was so big, made me feel so deliciously full, that I could sit here like this, in his lap, just staring down into his gorgeous eyes for ages.
"Fuck," he hissed, fingers digging into my hips. "You feel perfect. So tight, so wet for me."
Outside, I could hear the sales clerk leading someone else to a dressing room, and I buried my face against his shoulder, trying to muffle the sound. But I couldn’t stop myself from moving, I needed the friction of his cock sliding into me far too much. Soon I was rising and falling on his cock with increasing urgency, impaling myself on him again and again. His mouth found mine, swallowing my moans as he guided my movements, setting a punishing pace that had me seeing stars.
"That's it," he encouraged, one hand sliding between us to find my clit, sending pleasure coursing to every nerve ending. "Take what you need. Show me how much you've missed me."
I rode him frantically, chasing the pleasure that built with each thrust. The knowledge that he would come inside me, that I would carry part of him with me until I could share it with Julian—it pushed me toward the edge faster than I expected.
"Close," I gasped against his mouth. "So close."
"Come for me," he demanded, thumb circling my clit with merciless precision. "Let me feel you come on my cock."
My orgasm crashed through me without warning, inner walls clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I bit his shoulder to muffle my cries, the taste of expensive wool and salt filling my mouth.
He followed me over, his cock swelling and pulsing deep inside me, triggering aftershocks of my orgasm. I felt each pulse as he emptied himself inside me, his face buried in my neck, breath hot against my skin.
