Page 32 of Unethical

Regardless of the reasons for this shift, I only know that I want to see her in that pair of jeans.

With her clothing selections thrown over her arm, she makes her way toward the fitting rooms. As she passes the lingerie department, she stops and backtracks to a rack with a purple bra-and-panty set. Her fingers caress the fabric, and I’m sure she’s imagining how it would feel against her most intimate areas.

Meanwhile, I’m thinking of how it would feel to rip it off her body with my teeth.

She flips a few hangers forward and grabs one off the rack. Who’s she planning to wear that for? All her bras and panties are shades of white, gray, and black, so the fact she’s chosen something so bright intrigues me.

I hope she doesn’t mind wasting money, though, because when she wears them, I’ll do more than rip them off with my teeth. I’ll steal those panties and bring them home with me so I can inhale her scent until it fades away.

Sarah turns toward the fitting rooms once more, still blissfully unaware of my presence. A hat hangs low over my eyes, but I pull it lower. I can’t risk blowing my cover now. Not when I’ve just come up with a wonderful idea.

I loop around so I can beat her to the fitting rooms, and then I wait in one of the stalls until I hear a curtain slide across its track. After a quick check for feet in the other stalls, I head toward the heels I know belong to her.

I enter the stall and put a hand over Sarah’s mouth as I close the curtain behind me. When I’m certain she won’t scream, I release her mouth, take off my hat, and hang it from one of the hooks still clinging to life by a single screw.

“Maxim, what are you doing here?” she whispers.

“I was shopping and saw you.”

“You just happened to be shopping on the women’s side of the store?”

I smirk. By now she should know that following her isn’t so farfetched.

“I saw you picked out lingerie,” I say. “Put it on for me.”

Her eyes go wide. “What? No!”

“I want to see that purple against your skin. Do I need to strip you and dress you myself? Do you want to be my pretty little doll, doc?”

She just stares at me as if she thinks I won’t. Time to prove her wrong.

I reach out, grip the bottom of her shirt, and pull it over her head before she can resist. Her hands fly to my wrists as I reach back to unclip her black bra, but she’s hardly fighting me at all, and I’m able to remove it with ease.

When I pull the lacy purple number off the hanger, she takes a sharp breath. I turn her around, make her face one of the three mirrors, and slip her arms through the straps. As I clip it behind her back, her breasts pull together and rise higher.

“Maxim . . .” she whispers.

“Shh, I’m not done dressing you up.”

I unclip her black slacks and slip them down her thighs. She’s wearing her full-coverage underwear. How someone can still look this fucking sexy in a pair of granny panties is beyond me, but she makes it happen.

Sarah leans back, her body resting against me as I work those panties off of her too. I help her into the purple lace and bring them up to her waist. They provide much less coverage, and I salivate at the sight of the cuffs of her ass.

She doesn’t say anything as I run my fingers through her hair and begin braiding it. She just stares as I cross one strand over the other. I reach the end of the first braid and gesture toward the black hair ties she keeps on her wrist. She hands one to me, and I tie off the end of the first plait before starting on the next.

“Where did you learn to braid hair? Prison?” she asks. There’s a surprising lack of sarcasm in her question.

“No, I had a sister in foster care.”

Her eyes lock onto mine through the reflection in the mirror.

“Did you?—”

“No, doc. I never hurt her.”

I run my hands along the braids and brush the tails over her shoulders. She looks sweet, like a perfect doll.

My little toy.

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