I’m having a hard time keeping my thoughts pure, at least for right now. Once we’re back there will be no controlling them. I look around my house as we walk toward the door and mentally count the places where we can fuck. The options are limitless, but the must-have spots are definitely the balcony, couch, office, shower and on and on.
When I glance at the couch and imagine her riding my cock, I gasp and she hears it, pulling up short. The look of fear is in her eyes as she tears her gaze from me and immediately stares down at her dress. Her hands run over the front, and her body twists to look at her backside.
“Is there something wrong?”
Yes, you’re a walking fucking sin that I want to commit repeatedly. “No, everything is fine.”
“You made a sound.”
And I plan to make a lot more tonight. “You’re a beautiful woman, Macey, and you dress up very nicely. Shall we?” I motion toward the door and she falls in step beside me. With the wide hallway, I’m able to keep my space, but once we’re inside the tight quarters of the elevator, there is nothing preventing me from breathing in her scent. The stench of Stripperville is gone and replaced by coconut and what I’d call summer. It’s the only way I can describe what I smell right now. Standing next to her I have the urge to go lie by the pool sipping fruity cocktails and putting lotion all over her body.
“Where are we going?”
“First, shopping and then we’re having dinner with my friends.”
“Your friends?” she questions.
“Is that a problem?” I glance at her, only to find apprehension. Her fingers are knotting together and her eyes are focused on the floor.
“No, I mean if they’ve seen me strip they’ll figure it out quickly.”
“I doubt it.”
We exit the elevator and make our way through the hotel, until it opens up into the mall. Most of the stores are about to close so I take her to a boutique that can outfit her with everything she needs. On our way, I pull out my cell and call ahead to let the manager know that I’m coming in and what exactly we’re looking for.
“Everyone is closing.”
“So it seems,” I say, thinking I need to encourage her to look me up on the Web so she can see how powerful I am in Vegas. I’m not the type of casino owner who hides in their mansion. I mingle with everyone. I attend all the functions and donate when asked. I’m making a name for myself here.
“Mr. McCormick, it’s so great to see you.” The manager of the boutique greets me with a kiss on both cheeks. “And who do we have here?”
“Macey Webster,” I say, before Macey can answer for herself. At the club she went by Catalina, it’s cute, but my fear is that she’ll let her stage name slip.
“Hi, Ms. Webster, I’m Carlotta. Let’s get started.”
Macey looks back at me with fear in her eyes, I shrug and wave as Carlotta pulls her away. Another associate approaches and shows me where I can sit and offers me a drink.
Carlotta forces Macey to come out and show me each outfit she tries on. I can see in her eyes that modeling her outfits is not something she wants to do, but Carlotta is old-fashioned that way, I suppose. I’ve seen everything she dresses Macey in from slacks, jeans and dresses to formal gowns and nighties, and I truly like those the best.
“Do you like the clothes here?”
She sits down, taking a break. I grab the bottle of water that is being offered to her before she can and twist the top for her.
“They’re expensive.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
The eye roll is subtle as she turns her gaze toward the mirrors that line the wall. “I love them.”
“Perfect.”
“What did you choose for me?”
Her question catches me off guard. “Excuse me?”
Macey waves her hand out. “All of this, you set it up, so I’m asking which outfits you chose for me.”
I finish off my own water and wish I had something stronger. “It’s not like that, Macey. If you like something, get it. I don’t own you and you can walk away now with no questions asked.”
“Except I’m only yours?” I don’t miss the way she draws out yours while trying to avoid eye contact with me.
Leaning in, I tug her earlobe before whispering, “Yes, you’re mine. I will not share, Macey, but I also refuse to humiliate you. It’s a mutual understanding between friends. You do for me and I do for you.”
“So we’re friends?” she asks, as she breathes in.
I sit back, but stay close to her. “Of course.”
“We hardly know each other.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say we hardly know each other.” Her words are matter-of-fact, making me wonder if she’s the same girl I slept with at the party. I size her up and down, solid in my memory that she’s the same person.