Bewitching the Boss

The costume shop comes into view on the right and I pull into a parking space outside, using an app on my phone to buy meter time. Jane’s car is parked in front of me and I glance into the backseat as I pass, finding a collection of belongings I thought I’d misplaced. A blue necktie, a comb, one of my dress shirts. I’m not jarred or surprised. Why would I be? I’m living with my stalker. She’s my girlfriend. And I fucking love it.

I wonder what she’ll steal next.

As a matter of fact, it’s time I start bringing some of her things to the office with me. I’ll start with her loofah. That white silky thing she rubs all over her beautiful body, leaving it scented with lavender. Or maybe that red pair of panties I stuffed in her mouth last night while calling her a horny little—

“Byron?”

Until I hear Jane’s voice, I don’t even realize I’ve entered the costume shop. The air conditioning is frigid and it makes me realize how fevered my skin has turned just thinking about. All of her qualities. And one of my favorites is on display right now.

Jane is standing in one of the aisles of the costume shop, her entire body shuddering at the sight of me. Jesus, how did I become the luckiest man on earth? This incredible girl literally starts shaking at my approach, her nipples hardening at the front of her white blouse.

The white blouse which is tucked into that tight, black leather skirt.

“Hi, Jane,” I say, sounding damn near feral.

“Hi,” she whispers, swallowing. Shifting in her heels. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know.” I close the distance between us, continuing until she has to tip her head back to maintain eye contact. Until her nipples brush my chest every time one of us breathes. “That depends what costume you’re picking out for tonight.”

“Oh.” A flush rises on her cheeks. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“I don’t want to be surprised about this.”

Does she know it’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to…to manhandle her? It’s a constant struggle to stop myself from picking her up, rip those sexy clothes off, shove her legs where I need them. It’s constant.

“Fine.” A lump rises and falls in her throat. Her gaze travels past me, avoiding my eyes. “I’m leaning towards a Vivian Ward costume.”

Confusion draws my brows together. “Who is Vivian Ward?”

She hesitates. “The character played by Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

Fire ants crawl over every inch of my body. “You’re going to dress like a sex worker,” I say flatly. But my pulse is anything but flat. It’s reading like a seismograph during an earthquake. “Over my dead body, Jane.”

Her shoulder lifts and falls jerkily. “Girls dress sexy on Halloween. It’s not a big deal.”

“You dressing like someone who gets paid for sex is a big deal to us and you know it.” I take her face in my hands and press our foreheads together, her jagged exhale bathing my mouth. “You haven’t needed it as much lately. Me to…demean you. When we make love. If I thought it was just some kink, I wouldn’t have an issue. But you told me to my face there is a reason you need to be shamed by me. You told me it isn’t healthy. And you won’t tell me why. Why, Jane?”

“Did you think I’d just bare all of my secrets if you moved me into your perfect house? If you gave me the best days and nights of my life?” Moisture crowds into her eyes. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me.”

Her breath leaves her in a rush, as if she’s been hit in the stomach. “Oh, Byron…”

I gather her up close to my chest, lifting her feet straight off the ground. “You’re going to tell me everything when you’re ready. But in the meantime, you’re not going to dress like Vivian whatever in an attempt to push me away.”

She’s shaking her head, eyes brimming with emotion. “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m just reminding you who I am. That I’m not going to change because we sleep in the same bed.”

“I don’t need you to remind me of a single thing about you, Jane. I think about you every waking second of the fucking day.” I back her up against the wall of costumes, knocking a plastic bag onto the floor. Plastering our bodies together. “I tracked you here. I’m making plans to steal your panties so I don’t have to be without the roses and sugar scent of that pussy for a goddamn minute. I’m out of my mind over you,” I growl against her mouth. “And you’re dressing like a princess tonight.”

One second, her eyes are growing heavy with need. The next, they are flying open and she’s sputtering, trying to push me away. “No, I am not.”