Page 96 of Better When Shared
I nodded.
“Is it for me?” She must have realized how that sounded, because she laughed, shaking her head. “Fuck, forget I asked that. I’mnot that full of myself. It’s just my favorite color. Such a pretty yellow.”
"Yes," I said, the single word feeling like a confession that would change everything. “It’s for you.”
Marco moved closer to examine the garment. "It’s beautiful. This isn't just clothing. This is art."
Something cracked in my chest at his genuine appreciation.
"Put it on," I said suddenly, the words escaping before rational thought could stop them.
Juniper's chin slowly lifted, dark eyes meeting mine, filled with mischievous delight. "Here? Now?"
"Yes." My voice was steadier now, authority bleeding through uncertainty. "I want to see how it looks. How it moves with your body."
She glanced toward Marco, some silent communication passing between them. Whatever she saw in his expression made her shoulders relax, made her reach for the hem of her sundress.
"You want me to change in front of you," she said, and it wasn't a question.
"I do." The admission felt like jumping off a cliff. "I want to watch you put it on. Watch you wrap yourself up in something I made."
Her smile broadened, and the dress came off in one fluid motion, revealing bare skin that I wanted to map every inch of. She wasn't wearing a bra; her breasts rounded and beautiful, nipples already peaked despite the warm air. Her panties followed, a scrap of lace that pooled at her feet like an afterthought.
My breathing became shallow and quick as I drank in the sight of her naked body. Every curve I'd fantasized about, every line I'd memorized through stolen glances and fevered imagination, was suddenly real and present and close enough to touch.
She lifted my creation with careful hands, examining the construction one last time before slipping it over her head. The cashmere blend settled against her skin like it had been painted on, conforming to every curve while creating new ones with strategic gathering and tension.
The fit was perfect. Absolutely, impossibly perfect.
The neckline framed her breasts without quite containing them, revealing the upper curves while leaving just enough to the imagination. The skirt skimmed her hips and thighs; the hemline hitting at exactly the right point to make her legs look endless. When she moved, the fabric moved with her like liquid, creating glimpses of skin that made my mouth water.
"How do I look?" she asked, but the question was unnecessary. She looked like every fantasy I'd ever had given form and substance, like art that had stepped out of its frame to walk among mortals.
My eyes found Marco across the room, seeking permission. He nodded once, a slight movement that contained multitudes.
My control shattered.
I was across the room before conscious thought engaged, my hands finding her waist as I pressed her back against the oak-paneled wall. Her gasp of surprise turned into something else entirely when my mouth found hers, desperate and hungry and completely without finesse.
She tasted like coffee and cinnamon bread, her lips soft and warm as they opened under mine. My hands roamed over cashmere and skin, feeling the way my creation enhanced every curve while providing access to treasures underneath. The strategic openings allowed my palms to find bare skin, to trace patterns on brown flesh that felt like silk under my fingertips.
Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer, as her tongue swept against mine with the kind of aggressive desire that made my vision blur. When she arched against me, pressing her breasts against my chest, I groaned into her mouth like a man dying of thirst who'd finally found water.
"Fuck," she breathed against my lips, her fingers working at the buttons of my shirt with frantic speed. "I need to see you. Need to touch you."
My shirt fell away under her determined assault, and her hands were immediately on my chest, nails raking against skin that felt hypersensitive to every touch. When her fingers found my belt buckle, when she worked the leather free with movements that spoke of urgent necessity, I was already on the edge of orgasm.
My trousers hit the floor, followed immediately by my boxer briefs, and suddenly I was naked from the waist down with my cock jutting proud and desperate between us. Juniper's eyes went wide as she took in my length, her lips parting in an expression that was pure appreciation.
"Beautiful," she whispered, her hand wrapping around my shaft with a firm pressure that made my knees weak. "Tristan, you’re so fucking beautiful."
The contact was electric, skin on skin after hours of fantasy and frustration. When her thumb swept across the head of my cock, collecting the pre-cum that had been leaking since the moment she'd put on my dress, I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from falling.
Her smile was full of sin as she brought her thumb to her mouth, tasting me with the kind of deliberate sensuality that made my entire nervous system short-circuit.
Chapter 13
Juniper
