Page 65 of Wilt

I take the dress from her, the dark black juxtaposing beautifully from her skin. “That one.” I point at a small lavender box. “And then that.” I nod at a small bag in elegant black and white fabric.

She pulls out the lingerie and silk stockings in a rose petal pink. Not cheap, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ll pay anything, incash, to make her look the part. Not that she needs help to look good, but the part is a different matter. The clothes, the jewels, the heels, they all say she’s mine.

“Take off the slip.” For a moment, she pouts, and I grin. “You want me to do it for you, Rose?”

She frowns. “No.”

Fuck. Rose wants me to strip her bare. If I do that, I’m going to be inside her so fast, her head will spin and my plans will be ruined. The dynamic of us not having fucked adds to the sexual tension, and sexual tension sells this game I’m playing.

The deeper under my spell she is, the harder Finnegan’s going to fucking fall and give me everything I want.

She slides the straps off her dainty little shoulders, making a show of moving the slip down her body, inch by inch, baring her tits to me, then lower, wiggling her hips when she doesn’t need to, showing me the sweet curve of her body, and down, baring her cunt in slow shifts of material.

It falls to the ground as she lifts her chin.

It’s a total vixen move, and it dawns on me that while she’s still an innocent, she likes to win. There’s her steel core, the drive I know so well. It’s in me, in her father. It’s the kind of chess move that’s got balls.

Her eyes narrow slightly, a dare, the question bright and glittering. I meet her gaze and hold it for a long beat, then drop mine to her pussy. Of course she’s fucking wet. There’s a glisten of moisture on her thighs.

I’m hard as steel. How can I not be around that sweet perfection?

“Turn around,” I say, with a deliberately bored and slightly harsh edge.

There’s a flicker of hurt and disappointment as she does so. I step up behind her, taking off the choker, her skin so warm, soft, I wish I could touch her forever. I slide a finger over the line of her shoulders, down along her back.

“Open the other box, Rose.”

She does without question, stepping away from me and turning. Her eyes widen as she pulls out the contents.

“It…” She stares up at me, holding the jewelry. “It looks like a dog’s collar.”

The necklace is thick and heavy and, like Rose said, looks like a collar. The choker was a smaller, subtler version. This? No one would ever think it’s anything other than what it is. A clear, loud symbol that she’s my property, my slave, my toy.

The diamonds encrusting the surface glitter, each piece held by a link of white gold. The back clips together like a real collar, with two long diamond and ruby dotted chains hanging down to come together with a loop in rubies. A leash.

It’s going to fucking blow minds. Light the real fire.

Finnegan might resist it, thinking I’ll give up and release her, or he might think he can bargain or kill me, but even if she bored me to death, I’d never let her fall into his clutches.

I clip it into place and tug on the lead, turning her to face me. “Fucking gorgeous.”

She’s naked and I want to dip into her, but the more she wants, and the more I deny, the better this will be. So instead, I have her step back, releasing my hold on the leash of jewels.

No, I kneel down in front of her, that sweet cunt with her intoxicating scent of arousal and innocence meeting me. It’s subtle but there, mainly because I’m a hair’s breadth from it. It takes more willpower than expected to not flick out my tongue to taste her, but I don’t. Instead, I grab the silk and lace garter belt.

The panties… I decide to leave them off, hooking the belt into place instead.

“Stockings.” I take my time rolling them up her legs, over her knees up to her thighs. I carefully close the clasps to hold the stockings up, then turn to pick up the rose petal pink heels, in satin, and slip them on her feet.

Fuck, she’s so hot.

Rising, I grab my phone before she can move, snapping photos while she reddens with embarrassment. Just the stockings, heels, garter, and collar.Fucking hell.

I point to the bathroom. “Make up.” I lean against the bathroom door as she does it, arms folded, watching every move. Not because I don’t trust her, but because I can. When she’s done, I help her with the dress. It’s heavy, coming down to the swell of her tits in the front and low, almost to her ass, in the back. The sleeves are thick, off the shoulder. It’s simple, because with an intricate collar like she’s wearing, it has to be. The bodice is fitted, the rest skimming her hips and following her legs. It’s like an exaggerated fifties pencil, but with one slit that crosses at the front, left calf to right hip. Her legs peek when she walks, but it also gives me access should I choose it.

The dress is sexy with an aura of demure. Until she turns. Until she spreads her legs.

I zip up the side and smooth it down. I want to kiss and suck on her throat. I want to bite it. She’s so close, but there’s already a fading mark, so I don’t. The game being played is intricate and too much might give it away. I do kiss her, though, softly on the collar bone, just to get her blood moving a little faster.

---