Page 99 of Sweet Temptation

I glanced over. Summer and Devoid were still chatting, like nothing had changed. Like Summer’s sex goddess body wasn’t all out for everyone to see. In see-through nude-colored lace.

I fucking stared.

I could see her nipples. I could see a whole lot of pretty much everything.

Neither of them paid me any notice as Devoid slipped a white dress from a hanger. They were touching the fabric and talking about the hemline or something, both of them acting like Summer wasn’t the least bit almost-naked, as I quietly overheated.

My dick fucking hardened.

Correction. It was already hard.

Summer turned away, and my eyes instantly dropped to her ass. Her panties were tiny in the back, barely covering her round, yoga-toned ass cheeks… and definitely see-through.

I looked away again.

What. The fuck.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

I was frozen, my dick thudding with hunger. Maybe my heart was dead, but my body was painfully alive.

I didn’t want to draw attention by suddenly getting up and leaving, so I just sat. And tried to make a show of looking elsewhere.

I half-listened to them talking about fabric and color and whatever as I stared at the illuminated sign over the fire exit. All the while, an electric charge thrummed through my body. An awareness of her nearness, amped up a thousandfold just knowing she was so… fucking naked. The white paint on the walls was deliberately worn, the ceiling pipes exposed, and the whole studio had a cool, creative vibe. Yup. Those ceiling pipes were really interesting.

There was movement at the corner of my eye, and I prayed to whatever god might be listening that my client’s underwear was still on.

“Ronan?” Devoid said my name, maybe not for the first time, and I tuned back in. I glanced over, carefully.

Summer was standing on the pedestal, wearing the white dress. It was fitted and short, just covering her panties, with long sleeves and a plunging neckline that showed off a mouthwatering swell of cleavage. The chest part of the dress had a built-in white leather piece molded to her curves. It kinda looked like body armor.

Her hands smoothed the tight, stretchy fabric over her ass cheeks. I saw that in the mirror—and my dick spasmed in my jeans.

I leaned forward on my knees to cover it.

Was she deliberately torturing me?

I glanced at her face, but she wasn’t even looking at me. She was looking over her shoulder, checking out her ass in the mirror.

“What do you think?” Devoid asked.

He was asking me.

I cleared my throat. “It’s nice.”

They both looked at me. And blinked, like that comment fell way the fuck short of the mark.

Then Devoid turned back to Summer and started fussing over her. “Sweet sanity, bitch. This waistline.” He started plucking pins from a pincushion that was strapped to his wrist and tucking them in the fabric at the curves of Summer’s waist. “These hips. I always leave you a little wiggle room, you know, so a girl can eat. But your waist is always smaller than I wanna believe it is.” He poked her hip, and she slapped him, lightly, on the face.

“Do not call my booty fat again.”

“Baby,” he cooed. “Nothing wrong with a nice, fat booty.” Then he cackled loudly… and winked at me.

Summer turned toward the mirrors—and gave me a sudden, front row view of her ass. Because of her elevated position, I could just see her ass cheeks peeking out.

Devoid smacked her ass, then turned to me. “Isn’t she fabulous? I could dress her up all day.”

I tried to make a noncommittal sound, but it came out a garbled growl that neither of them probably heard over the music. Summer met my eyes in the mirror. She smiled a little, then rolled her eyes.

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