Page 8 of Lie With Me

Though, at this point, I have to admit I really am as smitten as a kitten.

“Darling, don’t sell yourself short. I love everything about you. Even your mere mortalness.” She pushes on her toes again, but instead of kissing my cheek, she cups my neck and presses her full, rosy lips against mine.

They taste like sugared cream and strawberries. My cock twitches in my pants, and suddenly I’m wondering how much it would cost to keep the associates quiet about me taking her into the dressing room and having my wicked way with her.

She pulls back, smiling sweetly up at me and looking every bit a woman entirely in love. Without breaking our gaze, she says, “It was so nice to meet you, Emily. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should change. We have that dinner to get to, my love.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Emily says as she attempts to clear her throat.

As Bianca disappears behind the curtain, I turn to see Emily backing away from me. “It was…good to see you. Congratulations…by the way,” she stammers.

“Yeah, you too,” I tell her confidently before spinning around and sitting to wait.

When Bianca emerges from the small room, she peeks around the corner to make sure Emily is gone. “Coast clear?”

“Yeah, she left the store. Thank you, by the way. Actress of the year goes to you.” I clap slowly, applauding her performance as she comes around the corner entirely.

She’s wearing the cheapest dress out of the ones she tried on—the red number she was the least thrilled about. “What happened to the Balmain?”

“It’s almost four thousand dollars. I can’t let you spend that kind of money on adress,” she stresses quietly, looking around to make sure no one hears her.

Her change in demeanor from sultry to shy is endearing. Most women would have chosen the most expensive one.

“I’m replacing a vintage Chanel. I know what that cost. It’s okay. Go put the dress you want back on.” Gently, I push her back toward the dressing room. Aware there are more eyes on us after the encounter with Emily.

Bianca’s cheeks flush a beautiful shade of rose asshe looks over her shoulder. “I got the Chanel at a thrift store for a few hundred dollars. I’d never be able to afford it otherwise.”

She says the last part softly, almost as if she’s embarrassed. She also looks like she’s surprised herself by admitting it to me.

Leaning closer, my words are a whisper against her bare shoulder, drawing her chocolate-honeyed eyes to my lips. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to stick it to that woman for the last year. What you did back there? That was amazing. And I appreciate it. So go back in that room, put on the dress you really want, and don’t argue with me anymore. Got it?”

A shudder goes through her body. It’s slight, but I’m close enough to notice. Her breath catches, eyes darting to mine before returning to my lips. “Yes, sir.”

Her words hit me straight in the groin. I work hard to suppress the groan that wants to leave my throat as I watch her walk away, hips swaying as she glances back over her shoulder before drawing the curtain closed once more.

By the time she comes out in the dress she really wants, I’ve paid for it and am standing there with her purse in my hands and her jacket curled over my arm. “Ready for that dinner?”

The corner of her lips tilt up as she reaches for her peacoat. “I suppose I do need to show off my new dress.”

I help her into her coat, discreetly inhaling herscent as she pulls her hair from the collar and flings it behind her, hitting me in the face with her luxurious waves. I nearly grab ahold of the strands and twist them around my fingers, but then I remember we’re in public and that it wouldn’t do me any good to be photographed in such a precarious position in the middle of a public store.

However, I do boldly grab her around the waist and pull her back to my chest to speak into her ear. “And I suppose I need to show off my newfiancée.”

Lenni

When I woke up this morning, I thought it would be just another dreary Thursday.

Wake up, drink coffee, maybe pick up a shift at Decadence—I decided against going to the restaurant I sometimes work at when I saw the weather—and go to the club early to maybe squeeze in a few Confessional clients before my scheduled ones in the Desires wing.

Never in a million years did I think I would be enjoying a six-course dinner tasting at Jean-Georges with a random curly-haired Adonis who spilled coffee on me on the sidewalk and bought me a Balmain dress worth nearly four thousand dollars as an apology.

The man who sits on the other side of the small table looks like sex on a nearly six-foot stick. His curls are swept back in a way that manages to look like an actual style you’d see on the cover of GQ. And his short, groomed beard is the same espressocolor as his hair. Not to mention his chiseled jaw would make an excellent saddle for me to ride.

He clears his throat with a smile, and I realize I’m staring.

“So, what’s the story with the blonde?” Shaking my head, I take a sip of my glass of Sancerre. The acidic wine makes me purse my lips, and while I wait for him to answer, I take a bite of caviar.

Truthfully, I would have been okay if Ken had bought me a hot dog from a street vendor. At this point, I’m going to be late for my shifts, but my boss loves me, so when I messaged her that I’d be coming in much later than usual, she simply responded withno problem.

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