Page 12 of Prince of Storms
“Are you busy?” he asked.
Unable to speak, my mouth frozen, I turned helplessly to the customers I’d been working with.
“She’s done with you,” he growled at them. “Go buy something, and make sure to say she helped you.”
The couple scurried away, leaving us alone.
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically, my mouth working all of a sudden. “Now, how am I going to close that sale?”
He snorted derisively. “They were talking about how much more they liked the sectional at another store. They weren’t buying. I saved you from wasting your time.”
“Saved me,” I said, wondering where the attitude came from. “Is that what you call it? I work mainly on commission, mister, so how am I supposed to do that now?”
He grinned. “I don’t think that will be an issue for a while.”
I frowned at him. “Why is that?”
“Because I’m going to make your year.”
“What are you talking about? And how did you know I worked here? Are you stalking me?”
“Hardly,” he said, his gray eyes flashing with amusement. “Sheer coincidence, as a matter of fact. Why? Would you like me to?”
My words caught in my throat as his gaze traveled down my body. I wasn’t wearing anything even remotely scandalous, but I felt like a mere sexual object to him anyway, with how he gazed at me. I wore black pants and a royal blue button-up blouse that covered me from neck to ankle. So, how did I feel utterly exposed to him, as if I was on display?
“I need furniture,” he said when I didn’t respond, too busy trying to turn off my pussy before it ruined my underwear, though I suspected it was too late for that.
The man was a walking sex advertisement, and I was horny in the worst of ways. Like a drunk college girl who needed chicken nuggets. I was the drunk college girl. Helpless before him, and he hadn’t done anything besides exist. Like those damn tasty nuggets!
“Furniture,” I managed to squeak out. “Well, I guess you came to the right place.”
He glanced behind me at the store full of household furniture. “Yes, I did.”
“Um, what do you need?” I shook my head, trying to let myself fall into saleswoman mode.
“Let’s see,” he said, his eyes unfocusing while he thought. “Six bedroom sets, three sitting rooms, two studies, a library, various hallway décor including wall art, and three dining room tables capable of seating ten each, minimum. Let’s start with that.”
I gaped at him.
“Too much?” he asked with a frown. “I thought this store would be able to handle such a request.”
“What? No, no, no, we can definitely do it!” I exclaimed in a rush. “If you want the exact same bedroom set six times, that might be tricky, we’d probably have to order some of it, but Simmonds Furniture has the biggest warehouse around.”
That was a bit of a stretch, depending on the definition of “around.” On the other end of the city, our main competitor,Goban’s Fine Furniture, had a larger warehouse. But they were jerks, so it evened out. Not that I would be telling Mr. Suit that.
Oh, he’s talking to me, I thought, my inner monolog interrupted.
“Let’s start with the bedrooms, then. I’ll make sure not to get six of the same,” he said.
“Okay. Sure. Let’s head on over.” I gestured for him to lead, but he didn’t move, instead waiting for me to go.
I started walking, and he followed. It took me a dozen steps before I realized he was staring at my ass. With my face burning, I took him to the bed section, where I absolutely did not daydream about being thrown down on one by his strong arms while he tore my pants off and took me right there in the middle of the store.
What is wrong with me? I’ve never been this much of a … a … I don’t even know. A slut? Why do I immediately want nothing but his mouth, or his hands, all over my body? Not every item is meant to be for sex!
Trying to make myself focus, I looked away from him and stared out the window. I busied myself with looking at the various cars as I walked to the middle of our bedroom sets.
“Waiting for someone?” he rumbled from unexpectedly close behind me.
