Page 56 of Ignition Sequence

His lips had tightened, but he moved his thumb to her cheek, doing a single stroke that, with the piercing look in his gray stare, stilled her.

“I don’t give a shit about whatever mood you bring to this. I intend to take you to this party, watch you get hot and bothered by the stuff you see, and fuck your brains out afterward. I will wear you out until you fall asleep naked in my arms, not thinking of anything. Soon as you start to surface from that, to think and get anxious again, I’m going to spread your legs, put my mouth on your cunt, get you wet and slippery, and fuck you all over again.”

Though he kept to a conversational murmur, anyone with eyes in their head could see the erotic vibes pinging between them. But he acted as if they were the only two people on the planet, leaning in to brush his mouth against her ear. “Go try on the dresses like I told you to do.”

As she pivoted toward the dressing room, a cauldron of feelings suggested she fire off a smartass reply. She bit them back, but was stopped abruptly because he’d hooked two fingers in the waistband of her jeans. “Didn’t hear your response to that,” he said.

She looked over her shoulder and up at him. When she met his gaze, that part of her that responded to him in a very different way nixed the snark.

“Yes, Sir.”

It could have scared her, that she responded to him that way, even in public. Especially because he seemed to know that. But the spear of lust in his gaze made her glad she’d found the courage to say what she wanted, rather than the evasion or defense she’d been tempted to use.

He released her and she slipped into the dressing room.

Les didn’t give herself time to think. She stripped off her jeans and T-shirt and put on the tight dress. She’d been wrong about it barely covering her ass. If she bent over, it wouldn’t cover anything. She guessed showing the crotch of her panties was the point. No bra was possible, because it was off the shoulders, a thin horizontal strap the only thing keeping the gathered neckline just above the nipples. The color was a shimmery gold velvet. She bet Beulah would look fantastic in it, filling it out with her more ample curves.

She didn’t want to go out there, but she’d promised. She decided to stay barefoot, since her sneakers would look ridiculous with it.

When Les and her mother took Daralyn clothes shopping for her sixteenth birthday, they’d had to encourage her to wear anything that suggested she had an attractive figure. This dress was as far outside Les’s comfort zone as a modestly fitted pair of jeans had been out of Daralyn’s.

But being sexy wasn’t about comfort. If it increased the heat in Brick’s gaze, gave him that possessive look, she could rise to the occasion.

Still, she peered out of the dressing room door to see if anyone was nearby. Most the shoppers were female, but in her head, her mother’s judging eyes were planted in every face.

Brick leaned against the nearest rounder. She focused on him to find the courage to step out. His gaze covered her top to toe, lingered on the expected areas, but not with any discernible reaction. “Okay. Try on the next one.”

She should feel relieved, not hurt or embarrassed. But as she stepped back into the shelter of the dressing room doorway, she fidgeted, rubbing one bare foot on the top of the other. “Maybe going to this thing isn’t such a good idea. I mean, if this is the kind of thing they wear.”

“Look at me, Les.”

She brought her gaze reluctantly back to him. “You are beautiful,” he told her. “The dress is shit. You don’t like it, and I don’t like it. Go try on the other one.”

Marginally mollified, but still a little confused, she nevertheless closed the door. She’d removed the dress when a brief spurt of air, followed by a light click of impact, drew her attention to the top of the door.

“Put this on under it,” he said from the other side.

The changing rooms were in the lingerie section, and he’d apparently been browsing. The bra had shimmery black mesh cups, outlined with matching satin piping.

She stared at it. “How did you know my size?”

“I dried your clothes, remember?”

It was a reasonable answer, though with his attention to detail, she would have believed he’d accurately guessed. Especially if he’d had practice doing it. Most men weren’t this comfortable in a woman’s clothing store, let alone in the intimates section. But he’d said he’d never done this with another woman.

She gripped the bra to bring it over to her. When it didn’t immediately slide her way, she tugged harder. She heard a chuckle as he let it go. “You’re a big jerk,” she informed him.

“Nothing you didn’t already know, doc.”

He moved away from the door. Since with his height he could easily look over the top, she assumed he was reassuring the sales staff they didn’t have to worry about him being a peeping tom.

She slipped on the bra, hooked it and turned it around, adjusting her breasts into the cups. The shadowy mesh didn’t conceal her nipples, the bra’s design lifting and enhancing the size of her breasts. It felt decadent and nice, the silky sheer fabric, the satin edging against her skin. As she imagined Brick looking at her in it, her flesh swelled, the tips hardening. She was still wearing her cotton underwear, but she bet a matching pair of panties was out there. He probably already had them in hand.

She turned her attention to the dress he’d chosen. Black embroidery provided flirty coverage over generous expanses of black translucent netting covering the decolletage, short sleeves and back. Below the waist the dress flared out in a skater skirt that stopped mid-thigh. A gauze overlay matched the embroidered top and gave the illusion of several more inches of length. However, the shortness of the solid black fabric beneath drew the gaze to her thighs.

The hidden zipper in the side molded the dress to her figure. It was a good fit, intended for a skinnier, less curvy girl. She twisted to look at the translucent back, which created delicate shadows around her shoulder blades and revealed the satin bra straps.

If she bent way over, no panties would show. However, an errant breeze might just give Brick a glimpse. Or if he raised the skirt that last inch himself. What if he ordered her to bend over so he could see, or spank her or…take a belt to her? Was it twisted that his question about her father had made her mind jump to him doing that?

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