Wearing Him Down

Confused, I look around the living room for Grant and find him on the balcony, talking on his cell phone, Manhattan a glittering backdrop around him. Not wanting him to see me with the vibrator just yet, I hide it behind a heavy tome on the bookshelf.

“Um…” I tuck my hair behind my ear and advance into the huge living space, my feet sinking into sumptuously soft carpet, which is white and gray, like almost everything else in the penthouse—besides my room. “Hi, I’m Sienna.” I sense, rather than see, Grant ending his call on the balcony and glance over, finding him watching me from the shadows. I turn my attention back to the woman in purple. “What’s going on?”

“Ah, my love. I am Janice! I’ve come all the way from Paris!” the woman crows, taking my hand and turning me in a circle. “Let me get a look at you. Such a beauty! I was informed by Mister Foster that you looked best in pastels and I have to agree with this assessment.” She claps her hands together. “I’m here to dress you, darling.”

“You need summer clothes,” Grant rumbles, coming in from outside. There’s a drizzling of rain on the shoulders of his white button-down shirt. On his way toward us, he rolls up the sleeves to reveal his corded forearms and I try not to drool. When Grant reaches us, he and I stare at each other for a heavy moment, his expression revealing nothing. “She’ll have whatever she wants.” He flicks a glance at Janice. “Don’t let her tell you she doesn’t need something. I want her to have it all.”

“But I already have summer clothes.”

“You’re getting new ones.”

“Why?”

“My love,” Janice cuts in, clucking her tongue. “Let the man get his way. He will be happy. You’ll have pretty new clothes. Everyone wins!”

Janice goes back to sorting garment bags and I stand in the center of the living room, no idea what to do with my hands. Grant takes a seat on one of the low, gray leather couches, about ten feet away from me, legs outstretched in front of him.

“Are you going to watch?” I breathe.

“But of course, he will watch. You wear clothes so he’ll be enticed to take them off, no?” Janice’s laugh is bawdy. “Might as well get his opinion.”

That’s when I realize that Janice doesn’t know Grant is my stepbrother.

His eyes capture and hold mine, watching as I reach that conclusion.

A muscle ticks in his jaw.

I’m suddenly so hot, I wish I could go outside and stand in the rain to cool off. But that would mean leaving Grant’s magnetic presence and I don’t want that, so I stay put.

“Let’s start with a couple of dresses, designed by yours truly,” Janice says. “Now, no need to be modest. We’re all friends here.” Even though I hear what Janice is saying, I’m totally unprepared when she whips off my nightshirt, leaving me in nothing but a pair of miniscule pink panties and my bare breasts on display.

Speaking of Grant, he makes a hissing sound, sitting forward on the couch.

My urge is to cover myself, but I don’t.

I don’t, because I’m supposed to be wearing him down and maybe, just maybe, the unexpected arrival of Janice will assist me in that endeavor.

“Arms up,” Janice instructs, dropping a baby blue silk dress over my head. It caresses my skin as it flutters to a stop at my ankles. She pulls together the back and the low neckline cinches tighter, presenting my breasts. “This is lovely with your coloring, Sienna. You look like a princess!”

“Yes,” Grant says, sounding strained. “She does.”

“I love this dress,” I say to Janice, without taking my attention off my stepbrother. “But I would love to try something shorter. The shorter the better, actually.”

I don’t miss the way Grant’s right eye twitches.

“Shorter than a Frenchman’s temper! Yes, ma’am.” Behind me, Janice rummages through the garment bags. “Coming right up!”

This time, she fits me into a strapless, silver minidress that barely hits the tops of my thighs. There is a built-in corset that pushes my breasts up high, the material hugging my curves like a second skin. “What do you think of this one, Grant?” With a lot of confidence I don’t necessarily feel, I saunter forward to stand in between his outstretched legs and run my hands up the front of my body, over the slopes of my cleavage. “Do you like it?”

“Sure,” he growls. “If you plan to never leave the fucking house.”

“Oh, he is a jealous one,” Janice croons behind me.

“Jealous?” Grant shakes his head slowly. “You have no idea.”

“Why don’t you tell me, then?” I whisper.

When Grant only narrows his eyes at me, I decide it’s time to break out the bigger guns. “You said summer clothes, right, Janice? Did you mean bathing suits, too?”