“Thanks.” Hesitantly, I
slipped my own arm around his waist and felt the rock hard body beneath the
crazy expensive suit he wore. In fact, it was the first time I had really
touched him so intimately. He, of course, had been nose-deep in my pussy
already, and yet I hadn't done anything to him, even though I kind of wanted
to. Aside from strangle him, that is. Like, oh, kiss him. We hadn't kissed.
Bite his throat. Run my fingers through his hair. Scrape my nails down his
back. Suck his cock.
The fire he had stoked into a blaze in the little Italian
restaurant flared up again, and I had to swallow around my suddenly dry tongue
and review what I had just thought.
Suck his cock . I actually wanted to suck his cock. Like, really wanted to suck it, not just do it because I wanted him to return the favor,
like I'd always done with my other boyfriends and one-night stands.
Jesus, girl, I thought. You have got it bad.
And I totally did, because now that I'd thought it, I couldn't
unthink it, and the lean, well-built body next to me moved with
barely-controlled energy, like a dancer or a martial artist.
Or a tiger.
I licked my lips and tried not to think about where our bodies
met and instead tried to focus on what he was saying to the gushing young man
in a fedora and vest who could barely bring himself to breathe the same air as
Waters.
“Something elegant. Not too flashy,” he was saying.
Dimly I realized he was talking about my wedding dress. I
frowned in disappointment. “I always wanted one of those huge tulle skirts,” I
said.
The sales assistant nearly fainted with disdain, but Waters, to
my disappointment, let his arm drop from my shoulders and stepped away. The
loss of him was a physical pain. He turned and regarded me.
“Why?” he said simply.
I shrugged. “One of my nannies was addicted to telenovas.”
Waters gazed at me coolly for another moment, then gestured to
the sales assistant. “Both styles. Bring one elegant wedding gown and one
telenova gown.
“I don't think we have telenova gowns,” the assistant whispered,
still clearly gagging on the idea.
“Whatever you have that is closest, then,” Waters told him and
he scurried off, back stiff with indignation.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling stupid.
Waters shrugged. “Anything for my bride,” he said.
I shot him a sharp glance. Was that... had that been a glimmer
of self-reflection?
No. Couldn't be.
I didn't have time to analyze his comment, though, because the
shop assistant came bustling back almost instantly, towing two dresses behind
him. I took them and thanked him, and turned toward the dressing rooms, which
were nestled in the back of the shop with a lovely little platform for
expectant brides to parade before their admiring public. I had no public. I
wasn't even sure why I was trying dresses on, to be truthful. If Waters wanted
to control what I was going to wear, he should have just gotten my measurements
and been done with it.
My vague questions were quickly answered when Waters shouldered
his way into the dressing room with me.
“Ex cuse me?” I said as he sidled inside. There was room,
but it was supposed to be two women in here. And Waters seemed to take up so
much more space than seemed possible by the physical limitations of his
body. He loomed. He hulked. He was all I could think about. I clutched my
Telenova dress in front of me and glared at him.
He sighed diffidently. “I thought you might require some
assistance,” he said, as if his eyes weren't tracing over every inch of my
body, staring straight through the armload of tulle I carried in front of me.
He was too close. The scent of his aftershave and, underneath
that, the slight scent of man, delicately tempted my nose. We faced each other.
My back was against the wall. The last time we had been in this position, we
were on about minute five of our first meeting and his hands were already on my
breasts. The memory rose, sudden and unbidden, and I pushed it
slipped my own arm around his waist and felt the rock hard body beneath the
crazy expensive suit he wore. In fact, it was the first time I had really
touched him so intimately. He, of course, had been nose-deep in my pussy
already, and yet I hadn't done anything to him, even though I kind of wanted
to. Aside from strangle him, that is. Like, oh, kiss him. We hadn't kissed.
Bite his throat. Run my fingers through his hair. Scrape my nails down his
back. Suck his cock.
The fire he had stoked into a blaze in the little Italian
restaurant flared up again, and I had to swallow around my suddenly dry tongue
and review what I had just thought.
Suck his cock . I actually wanted to suck his cock. Like, really wanted to suck it, not just do it because I wanted him to return the favor,
like I'd always done with my other boyfriends and one-night stands.
Jesus, girl, I thought. You have got it bad.
And I totally did, because now that I'd thought it, I couldn't
unthink it, and the lean, well-built body next to me moved with
barely-controlled energy, like a dancer or a martial artist.
Or a tiger.
I licked my lips and tried not to think about where our bodies
met and instead tried to focus on what he was saying to the gushing young man
in a fedora and vest who could barely bring himself to breathe the same air as
Waters.
“Something elegant. Not too flashy,” he was saying.
Dimly I realized he was talking about my wedding dress. I
frowned in disappointment. “I always wanted one of those huge tulle skirts,” I
said.
The sales assistant nearly fainted with disdain, but Waters, to
my disappointment, let his arm drop from my shoulders and stepped away. The
loss of him was a physical pain. He turned and regarded me.
“Why?” he said simply.
I shrugged. “One of my nannies was addicted to telenovas.”
Waters gazed at me coolly for another moment, then gestured to
the sales assistant. “Both styles. Bring one elegant wedding gown and one
telenova gown.
“I don't think we have telenova gowns,” the assistant whispered,
still clearly gagging on the idea.
“Whatever you have that is closest, then,” Waters told him and
he scurried off, back stiff with indignation.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling stupid.
Waters shrugged. “Anything for my bride,” he said.
I shot him a sharp glance. Was that... had that been a glimmer
of self-reflection?
No. Couldn't be.
I didn't have time to analyze his comment, though, because the
shop assistant came bustling back almost instantly, towing two dresses behind
him. I took them and thanked him, and turned toward the dressing rooms, which
were nestled in the back of the shop with a lovely little platform for
expectant brides to parade before their admiring public. I had no public. I
wasn't even sure why I was trying dresses on, to be truthful. If Waters wanted
to control what I was going to wear, he should have just gotten my measurements
and been done with it.
My vague questions were quickly answered when Waters shouldered
his way into the dressing room with me.
“Ex cuse me?” I said as he sidled inside. There was room,
but it was supposed to be two women in here. And Waters seemed to take up so
much more space than seemed possible by the physical limitations of his
body. He loomed. He hulked. He was all I could think about. I clutched my
Telenova dress in front of me and glared at him.
He sighed diffidently. “I thought you might require some
assistance,” he said, as if his eyes weren't tracing over every inch of my
body, staring straight through the armload of tulle I carried in front of me.
He was too close. The scent of his aftershave and, underneath
that, the slight scent of man, delicately tempted my nose. We faced each other.
My back was against the wall. The last time we had been in this position, we
were on about minute five of our first meeting and his hands were already on my
breasts. The memory rose, sudden and unbidden, and I pushed it
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