Page 13 of The Delta's Rogue
“She’s ready,” the blonde attendant says from near the dressing rooms, pulling me from my tantalizing thoughts.
Heels click across the floor, and I straighten, putting my hands in my pockets as Sarina approaches. My eyes land on her shoes first. They’re black, with laces that crisscross and wrap all the way up her legs, disappearing beneath the hem of her sleeveless black dress. The skirt ends at the tops of her thighs. A deep V-neckline reaches to her belly button, giving me a peek of the black lace-and-string lingerie she’s chosen to wear underneath.The fabric molds against her round breasts and exposes her gorgeous neck, and fuck if I don’t want to rip that dress off her to see what’s underneath.
A possessive growl builds inside me. I hold it in, but Sarina’s eyes flash, her chin lifting higher and her tits pushing forward, as if she knows I like what I see a bit too much.
I stalk towards her, slow and sure, and keep my composure as we stare at each other. I walk in a circle to examine her. The heels highlight and lift her ass, and her outfit shows off enough of her to tease but not enough to give everything away at first.
“Put it all on my account,” I tell the shop employee, my gaze never leaving Sarina’s body.
From the corner of my eye, I see the attendant nod and leave, and then I close the distance between Sarina and me, hovering behind her. I gaze down at her over her shoulder.
Goddess, she’s perfect. Showing her off in there is going to be so much fun. Parading her around to give everyone a taste of what they can’t have, a glimpse of what’s mine? It’ll fulfill some of my deepest, darkest desires.
Too bad it’s all pretend.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask her for at least the hundredth time since we left Moonlighters.
She nods.
“Tell me. I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes…sir.” Her eyes flick to mine.
I nearly groan. This will be more difficult than I thought, but I grit my teeth and push down my impulses and my growing desire.
“Good girl.” I rub her upper arm, soothing any lingering nerves she may have. “Did you pick a safe word?”
She nods. “Lemon.”
“Lemon?” I double-check.
She nods again.
I step closer, closing the gap between us. Lowering my mouth to her ear, I whisper so only she can hear, “Remember what I told you on our way here: if you feel uncomfortable at all or need to leave, you just say that word, and we’ll go. No questions asked, no judgment, no consequences. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” she repeats.
My dick twitches, and I clench my teeth harder. She’s too good at this already, and I don’t think she even realizes it.
I continue stroking her arm, enjoying the feel of her skin and her reaction to my gentle caresses.
“I’ve never done something like this,” she confesses softly. “I mean, as nomads, we blend in and pretend to be something we’re not all the time, but never…never anything like this.”
“It’s fine to be nervous.” My mouth brushes the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “It will help our act. Just keep your eyes downcast and defer to me as much as possible, especially when someone speaks to you,” I instruct.
I pinch my lips together and lean away, resisting the urge to kiss her cheek or her neck. Then I reach into my pocket, take out the thin strip of fabric I stole from the bottom half of her red dress, slice a section of it off, and return it to my pocket.
“There is one final piece you need for your costume.” I lift the remaining fabric and let it dangle from my fingertips. “One last accessory to complete your ensemble.”
Her brow furrows as she stares at it. “Is that from my—”
I raise a brow at her, and she clamps her lips shut, facing forward again.
I wrap the fabric around her neck. “This will ensure no one but me will touch you.”
“My torn dress?”
“Your choker,” I correct her as I gather the two ends together at her nape. “It’s a signal that you are claimed, that you belong to someone—to me. It warns others away and lets them know you are off limits.”
