Page 73 of His Innocent Muse

Caught between not believing and melting at my feet, she lets out a little whine and leans her weight into me. I can tell she wants to apologize, but she holds her breath a moment before nodding. “Yes, Sir.”

Fuck, that will never get old. Heat surges through me, and I dance my fingers up her waist. “Good girl. Now. I’m going to pick things for you. Your job is to sit on that bench,” I point over my shoulder to one of the open changing booths, “and wait.”

Her lip dips under her teeth for a moment as she nods, and it’s all I can do not to bite it myself. “Yes, Sir.”

I grab a handful of her ass, squeezing it. She squeaks a laugh and heads where I pointed. The canvas curtain is only partially drawn, so she pushes it all the way and lets out a shocked breath. “There’s an entire room in here!” Her body disappears behind the curtain, and I watch her reflection from the angled mirrors as she pokes at the wall art and smooths her palm over the velvet surface of the tufted bench.

“Sit, Lucy,” I growl, and she jolts, twisting on her heel and dropping on the bench in the same breath.

Our eyes meet in one of the mirrors, and she blinks at me before pink spans her cheeks, a shy smile spreading.

I nod with a smirk and turn, surveying the store.

She needs something elegant, not gaudy. Something I can peel her out of at a moment’s notice wouldn’t hurt either. My dick throbs at the thought, but I clear my throat, fighting to stay focused.

My fingers trail over the various fabrics, stalling on a slinky gray strapless gown. I grab it, tossing it over my shoulder as I flip past a few others.

Color would look good on her, too. Any color. Every color. Especially red, in the form of my handprints. Or stripes from my ropes.

Damn it, Ghost. I crack my neck as my gaze lands on a see-through gauzy number with hoop inserts, like something straight out of the eighties.

Reminds me a little of the poofy skirt Murder bought her. She was really taken with it, even if it was only meant to make me drool.

I bypass that and head to the next rack, number four, and quickly locate the Valentino.

Nine thousand for this? Surely, it should be ten or twelve. I pull it out, checking the hem for snags, but it’s in perfect condition. Over my shoulder it goes, along with several other pieces from different racks, until I have a sizable collection of potentials for my little Lucy.

I stroll toward the dressing room, lining myself back up with the mirror. She hasn’t moved at all, bouncing her knee and chewing her lip, clearly lost in dark thoughts.

That won’t do at all. “Shirt off, Lucy.”

Her attention snaps to the mirror, and her fidgeting halts immediately.

She stands as I round the curtain wall, and watches me hang each item on a hook, save for the Valentino.

That I lay on the bench and fold my arms.

She blinks rapidly, and grabs the hem of her shirt, twisting it up over her head in a rapid move.

“Pants, now. Slower.”

She freezes with her hands on the waistband, catching my gaze. “Yes, Sir,” she says with a smile and eases the leggings down her hips inch by delicious inch.

“Better,” I rumble, jamming my hands in my pockets. I lean back against the wall and cross my ankles. “Face the mirror.”

She turns slowly, her back now to me, and bends all the way down, waving her sexy, round ass enticingly. Perfect for biting, slapping…

She keeps her eyes on mine in the reflection as she tugs the leggings free.

I can’t help the satisfied rumble that escapes as my cock reaches a near deadly level of hardness. So gorgeous.

“Stay just like that and slide the panties down now.”

Insecurity flashes across her features for only a second before she gives me a small nod.

Slowly, the pointless bit of fabric glides down, revealing her sweet, glistening pussy.

“Fuck,” I whisper, taking a step forward.

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