Page 16 of Mine to Tease

“You don’t have to worry about anyone else, Ana,” I tell her. “When I said no other man is allowed to touch you, I meant that as a directive and a promise. No one touches what’s mine.”

“Or what, you’ll kill them?” she asks. Her voice is tinged with sarcasm, but I don’t deny her assumption. It’s the way of our world, even though she’s yet to learn my place in it. She nods. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Agreed. Now, turn around. I want to get a good look at that ass when you slip them off.”

“You’re so crude.”

“You love it.”

“You’re not wrong,” she admits. “I’m already wet.” Fuck, don’t say that. I’ve still got to live up to my end of the bargain before I allow myself to touch her again. At least, start to. But, as she brings her fingers to the top of her shorts, I question if I’ll be able to make it upstairs without first bending her over this desk.

Slowly, she slides her shorts down, bending over slightly as she does, giving me the perfect view of her bouncy little ass. “That’s right, baby. Just like that. Bend over for me.” She follows my command as I move to stand behind her. She places her hands on the chair in front of her to brace herself. Thankfully, Brinkley doesn’t start off on another one of his barking fits as he roams the floor of my office.

With Ana in the perfect position, I bring my hands to the top of her lacy underwear and slip them down for her, desperate to touch her soft skin. I lower myself to my knees behind her, not letting go of her underwear until she steps out of them. I place them in my pocket and then proceed to inspect the wetness Ana claims to feel. As I bring my tongue to her sweet little pussy, Ana moans and I immediately taste it—the slippery substance that lets me know she truly wants this. This is all I need. We can work through the nervousness together.

I give her a few good licks from behind, slurping up her essence and eliciting more verbal responses from her. And then, exercising every shred of self-control I have, I pull away from her. “Alright, I’ll get my toolbox.”

“Damon,” she groans, spinning around to face me. I laugh.

“Don’t worry, you won’t leave unsatisfied. But if I start with you now, we won’t get anything done upstairs.”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes in concession and puts her shorts back on. They ride up just as I hoped they would, outlining the crevices of her pussy and cupping her ass to perfection. For the first time, my own rule may come back to bite me. Anastasia Cross is simply irresistible to me.

As we make our way upstairs, exchanging flirty looks here and there, some of the tension in my muscles dissolves with the establishment of our new arrangement. Now I don’t have to feel like I’m crossing a line when I desire her, touch her, spank her. My sense of control has been restored. And yet, I know this is going to be a problem as it can only ever come to an end—whether we want it to or not. But, for today, and every day after until it blows up in my face, I’m going to enjoy it and her.

18

One Month Later

It’s taken the two of us a month to build and install all the furniture for my shop, including the pink coffee cart I plan to decorate for snacks and my customer’s Instagrammable moments. Damon even went ahead and hung all my decor items including some brass mirrors and a few neon signs of affirmations to uplift my customers as they shop. He was even able to get in touch with an electrician, so I now have an appointment booked for the installation of the two massive crystal chandeliers I ordered. He’s really stepped up for me. Everything heavy he lifted with ease, even offering helpful suggestions about placement here and there. And he went ahead and ordered me a sign with my new business name—Romantic Chic Boutique—to hang next to his outside. I forgot to do that, but I love that he thought of it. Even though he did not miss his opportunity to give me shit about the name. I mean, come on, it’s cute and to the point.

Standing back and looking at everything now, I don’t know how I ever would’ve finished without Damon’s help—in more ways than one. At the end of each workday, I relinquished myself to him, and he put in a different kind of work, each night exploring a new part of my body, a new way of arousing me and getting me to cum. Some nights we spent here at the shop, others at my place. Toys, dirty talk, different kinds of restraints. It’s all so new and exciting. Though, as Damon drills in the last screw holding up the clothing rack on the back wall, this moment may rival all the others.

I look around my shop from behind my cashier’s counter and, for the first time, it feels real. I’m going to have my own business. I’m going to make my own money—not that I’ll give up my brother’s assistance. But still, it’s the principle of the matter. I guess, in short, I feel one giant step closer to realizing my dream. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still work to do, and the store opening is still a ways away. I have a closet full of inventory that I have to sort through, create barcodes for, and log into my system. And more is on the way. I also have to build a social media presence, which takes time, and an e-commerce site. Not to mention, I have to plan an amazing launch party. But all of these things feel more in my wheelhouse than everything else so far. Maybe the hardest part of this journey to New Orleans is over. And from where I’m standing, what’s ahead of me is looking bright, fun, and sexy.

Damon sets his tools on the floor and lifts the hem of his black T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. As he does, I get a first glimpse of his chiseled stomach and find more tattoos sprinkled across his skin. I’ve lost track of how many orgasms he’s given me. Now that my store is nearly finished and I’ve gotten more comfortable with him, I think it’s time I return the favor.

My lips part as his eyes meet mine. Fresh saliva coats the inside of my mouth as I lower my gaze to his crotch. I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little intimidated. I’ve never gone down on a man before. What if I’m bad at it? What if I’m so bad he wants to end our arrangement entirely? Damon walks toward me then and I smile, fighting through my nerves as I round the counter to meet him. “Well, what do you think?” he asks.

“I think it’s amazing. I wish I could take more of the credit, but I truly don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“You would’ve figured it out just like you did everything else. The painting, the measuring, ordering good quality pieces. You did a good job, Anastasia. I think you should be very proud of yourself. I know I am.” My cheeks blush as Damon offers me a smile and a friendly pat on the arm. “Though I’d be lying if I said the place doesn’t make my stomach hurt. What’s this color called again? Pepto Pink?”

“Stop!” I laugh, extending my leg to kick him. “You know, I could offer you some pointers, since I did such a good job. With the increase in female traffic my store will bring, you could capitalize on it by adding a new section to your shop just for the girlies. Maybe a pink neon sign, a catalog of mini tattoos that can be done in under an hour. Oooo, and the Instagram!”

“No, no, not no, but Hell no!” Damon says. “The last thing I want is a ton of barely legal girls coming in asking for butterflies and angel numbers. I’m an artist, as are the people who work for me. You can keep your pink, glittery, flowery, Instagrammable bullshit up here.”

“Well, screw you too.”

“You wish.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, raising my eyebrow. Damon offers me a playful smirk and relaxes against the checkout counter. We stand in silence, once again admiring all that we’ve accomplished together. Though I can’t help but take stock of the emotional progress we’ve made in addition to the physical. Things have been nice between us. Instead of an arrogant asshole, he’s been a helpful neighbor who still finds a way to pick at me—just enough to make me laugh though. Then again, maybe it’s just that my perception of him has changed.

In the time I’ve spent getting to know him, observing him, I’ve learned he likes his coffee black and he drinks at least two cups per day; his favorite foods are burgers and steak, though he also enjoys a good pasta dish—I know because we’ve gotten takeout for lunch and dinner a couple times—he wears black, regardless of the time of day or temperature outside; he’s not a sports guy and doesn’t watch much television, but he loves art; he’s funny and pretty private. He never mentions any friends or family. Then again, neither have I.

It’s not that we’ve had a ton of long, deep conversations. Most of the time it’s me yammering on about something and him listening. He’s actually quite a good listener. Or we bicker. And yet, his actions speak for him. And what his actions have told me, despite how things began between us, is that he is a thoughtful, generous, handy, intelligent, playful, sexy man who yes, is sometimes stubborn, likes to tease me, and is a bit rough around the edges. But, overall, he is less intimidating than when I first met him or even just a month ago. He’s a man of his word, and I can respect that. Somewhere along the way, maybe he started respecting me more too. Or it could be the numerous daily orgasms he provides that have altered my perception and made our time together, dare I say, enjoyable. Speaking of…

As our eyes meet, refusing to leave one another, my mouth goes dry with anticipation as desire coils in my stomach. We both know what time it is.

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