Bewitching the Boss

“Put it on,” I manage, my voice sounding like rusted metal.

Her pout is like a stroke to my dick. “You’re the one who is insisting. Put it on me yourself.”

There is a siren wailing in my head signaling danger ahead. Having no choice, though, I take the elaborate dress off the hanger, unfasten the buttons and stoop down, holding it open for her to step into. And while she does step into the pooled silk, one high heel at a time, she does it slowly, bringing her nearly naked ass an inch from my face and lingering, running her hands up the sides of her ribcage, humming in her throat as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. As if she isn’t tempting me within an inch of my life.

I can’t resist pressing my open mouth to the swell of her left ass cheek, dragging my tongue over the lithe curve, moaning as I go. But I’m only given a quick taste when she inches away, wagging her finger at me in the mirror. “You had your chance.”

Gritting my teeth hard, I stand, bringing the dress up her body, helping put her arms into the sleeves and doing up the buttons on her back. I’m trying so hard to overcome the need to fuck her silly that I don’t look at her reflection in the mirror until she’s outfitted completely in floor-length silk, her torso hugged by a boned corset, pushing her tits up like ripe nectarines.

“Jesus.” The wind goes straight out of me. “My God, Jane, you steal my fucking breath.”

She’s staring at herself in the mirror with a sense of wonder, but it fades in degrees until she’s wringing her hands. “This isn’t me.” Her eyes find mine, no longer trying to mask her vulnerability. Giving me every insecurity inside of her. “Is it, Byron?”

“You can be more than one thing, Jane,” I respond, sounding as if something is caught in my throat. “You can be sexy. You can be royalty. You can change the packaging and you’ll still be the girl I’m in love with. But yeah…yeah, this is how I think of you. Like a princess. My princess.”

Jane turns to face me, her expression a mixture of dumbfounded and hopeful. “Did you just say you love me?”

Her voice cracks on the final word and my heart lurches up into my throat. “Sorry, I guess I’ve only been saying it to you when you’re asleep.” I let out a ragged breath. “Of course I love you, Jane. I love everything about you.”

“You don’t know everything about me,” she whispers.

“I know enough to be sure I want you for my wife.” The words come out without a conscious thought. They’re just there, coming out of my mouth, feeling like the most important, most right thing I’ve ever said. And I’m lunging, catching her up against me and pressing her tight to the wall of the dressing room. “Be my wife or I’ll die. Say you’ll marry me.”

“Byron—” She’s panicking, her hands dancing on my shoulders. “Y-you need to think about this. You’re being impulsive.”

No, I’m not.

I’m not.

I’m going to be obsessed with her forever. It’s not going away. I need to lock her down. Need to make sure she’s in my world, every single day. Non-stop. Always.

“I know exactly what I’m going,” I rasp, gathering the silk hem of her dress in my hands, bringing it all the way up to her waist, trapping the material between our bodies and delving my fingers into the front of her thong, my middle finger sliding home into the drenched groove of her pussy, her little clit pulsing against the pad of my digit, begging to be loved. Attended. “If I could rip my heart out and show you how hard it beats for you, I would do that. But I only have this,” I say, drawing down the zipper of my pants and freeing my cock. One nudge of her panties to the side and I seat myself inside of her snug channel, rocking her against the wall and watching her eyes glaze over. “I’m going to track you and eat you and worship you and fuck you for the rest of my life. Marrying me just makes it legal. Say yes.”

Without waiting for an answer, I grind down on her clit and listen to her whimper.

Yeah, I’ve learned what she likes. What makes her wet, makes her come.

I’m a Jane expert and I’ll be using that to my advantage now.

“You love me,” I pant against her mouth. “You burn for me.”

“Yes. Yes.”

“You’ll sit outside in the rain to stalk me. Now you’ll damn well walk down an aisle for me. You’ll wear my ring on your finger and never take it off.”

I’m pounding into her vigorously now, her cunt hot and tight and welcoming. Mine.