The last item is the dress. It's white cotton with dainty white embroidered flowers, in a floaty but short style. It's pretty rather than sexy, but in it, I feel amazing.
Damien called me an angel, and this dress makes me look like one, but underneath it, I feel like a devil.
The dressing room is quiet. It's just us here, cut off from the rest of the store. When I'm in front of Damien, his eyes rake over me, lingering on the swell of my breasts and the point on my mid-thigh where the dress finishes. I move closer until I'm standing between his spread legs, watching his brown eyes darken as his pupils dilate. "What do you think about this?" I whisper. "The fabric is so soft."
"You're definitely getting it," he murmurs huskily.
"Getting what?" I ask, looking pointedly down at his cock.
The flush on his cheeks is evident, but the tick in his jaw tells me everything I need to know about his pent-up frustration.
"Want to feel the fabric?" I say, touching the hem of the dress.
His hand drifts to the point I just touched, and he rubs the material between his thumb and forefinger. "Soft," he says. Then his palm presses against the outside of my leg, and I almost crumble with arousal. "But this is softer."
Damien's eyes stay glued to mine as his palm slides up the outside of my leg, disappearing under the skirt until his fingers reach the underside of my ass. My whole body twitches with a shiver as he strokes so gently around the back of my leg toward the inside of my thigh. "Are you wet?" he asks me, and I want to drop to my knees with weakness. Wet? Wet would be an understatement, but I nod anyway.
"If we were somewhere private, I'd pull you onto my lap and settle you onto my cock. I'd let you ride me wearing this pretty dress until we were both sweaty and sticky and messy." His finger finds the dampness of my panties, and his eyelids drop closed. When he opens them, his hand falls away. "Don't take off the dress. Just break off the label and fold up your clothes. I want you to wear this now."
"Okay," I say, my chest hitching as I breathe fast enough to compose myself. In the changing room, I glance at myself, finding my cheeks flushed and my eyes sparkling. I used to look this way when I first started dating Tyler, as though my fluttering heart lit me up from the inside. When I emerge through the curtain, Damien is waiting for me. He gathers the purchases and the loose ticket from the dress, leaving me with my folded jeans and sweater.
"I'll get a bag for those," he says.
The store clerk's eyes bulge as I follow Damien. "She's wearing the dress," Damien says. "Can you ring up the ticket and the rest of these?"
"Sure," she says. The bill isn't extortionate, and when Damien is handed the bag, he opens it so I can surrender my clothes. As we leave the store, he takes my small hand in his huge work-roughened palm and leads me back to the parking lot.
"You didn't need anything?" I ask as we emerge into the sunshine, and I shade my eyes with my hand.
"What I need is under that dress," he says. "But I've got to get you home for that."
"Maybe," I say.
The look in Damien's eyes is a mix of fierceness and surrender. I think he'd agree to anything if it meant getting under my skirt.
"It's broad daylight," he says huskily.
"And the truck has tinted windows."
"Fuck," he mutters, picking up the pace. When we get to the truck, he opens the door for me and then tosses the bags into the trunk. He turns the ignition, shoving it into gear and reversing way too fast.
"Where are you going?"
"To the emptiest corner of the lot," he says.
It doesn't take long to find a place that has a tree on one side and a wall in front. There are no other cars parked nearby. As soon as he's switched off the engine, he flicks off of my seatbelt and hauls me into his lap as though I weigh nothing. All the breath leaves my lungs as he tugs me so my legs are on either side of him, and my pussy is mashed against his cock.
His big hands cradle my face, warm eyes searching mine. "You know how I know Tyler loves me like a brother?" he says. "Because he wants me to share what he loves most in the world, and you know how I know he loves you?" he continues. "Because he's not selfishly trying to keep you to himself."
Tears burn in my throat, but Damien kisses them away. For such a big man, he knows how to kiss with finesse. His hands are so gentle, mapping the line of my jaw, my neck, the curve of my shoulder. His lips drift to the top my breasts that are revealed by the dress he chose for me, and he inhales against my skin. Between my legs, his cock is a rigid bar against my damp panties.