Page 8 of Biker

I didn’t waste time taking the box and setting it on my bed considering I still needed to get dressed and get my day going. I thought about not opening it right away, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I needed to know. To say I was shocked to find a beautiful cream with black polka dot vintage style dress inside, complete with crinoline, is an understatement. The box also contained shoes, thigh highs, garters and a beautiful black lace bra and panty set.

I had hardly noticed the note on top, but when I opened the paper, the man stole part of my heart right then and there. As if he hadn’t already done that after meeting him and spending the night with him in his bed where I slept better than I had since I moved to Seattle.

Starlet,

This dress was meant for you. Wear this today.

Porter

Was it a little highhanded? Sure, but it flared something inside of me because he had picked out my outfit for the day and had thought of everything. I looked at all the sizes and it was perfect. I wondered for a moment how he knew and then I remembered how I woke up to find Porter making me breakfast and our discarded clothes picked up off the floor. He must have looked at all my tags, which should have made me feel embarrassed, but, instead, made me feel cared for in a way I’ve never experienced before.

Strange.

So, here I am working in the library in the beautiful dress Porter picked out for me and feeling fan-fucking-tastic about it. I feel feminine and it’s not just because of what I’m wearing. It’s because of him.

It’s a little silly and makes it difficult to not get caught up in the magical feelings beckoning me to fall.

I’ve dated before, sure, but I’ve never given my heart to a man. I always held myself back and I have a feeling it’s because they weren’t Porter.

But should I really be feeling this way about a man I just met? One who I’m not sure I can give everything he needs?

Since I need a little time to myself, I take up the task of returning books to their shelves and leave my coworker at the circulation desk. Every time I convince myself to just enjoy this, but not let my heart get involved, my dress swishes around me and the feeling of warmth and affection grows.

Fuck.

I rest my head against the shelf I’m standing in front of, hoping I haven’t bastardized the Dewey Decimal System because my concentration is crap. Maybe I can fall back on muscle memory on this one.

When strong hands grip my hips, I jump and let out a yelp. I try and spin around to look at the man who thinks he can touch me, but his grip is strong, and fear has me paralyzed.

“Starlet, you look even better than I imagined in this dress,” Porter’s voice is rough and full of heat as he whispers against the shell of my ear.

I sag back against him while taking a few deep breaths to try and calm my racing heart. “Porter,” I hiss, “you scared me to hell and back.”

I glance over my shoulder to find his hazel eyes looking at me, filled with heat and something softer. Adulation? Whatever it is, it’s heady as fuck and has my very fancy panties flooding with the evidence of my arousal.

“Did you really think I’d be able to stay away knowing you’re wearing what I picked out for you?” He runs the tip of his nose up my neck and inhales. “You smell so damn good,” he rumbles as his tongue flicks out along my skin.

I gasp and try and whirl around, but he holds me in place, his fingers flexing against my hips. It does nothing to quell the need burning inside of me for this man. If anything, it’s like gasoline on an already raging inferno. Is it necessary? Not at all, but what a way to burn.

My voice is shaky, “How did you know I’d wear it?”

His chest vibrates against my back as he chuckles. “I know you, McKenzie. I told you to wear it, so you were going to wear it.”

I want to huff and be indignant, but I can’t because he’s right. Considering I am, in fact, wearing the outfit he sent me, it’s not exactly something I can deny.

“It’s a beautiful dress,” my hands run over the fabric, “I couldn’t let it go to waste.” My voice drops to a sincere whisper, “Thank you.”

“My thanks is seeing you in it,” he murmurs before nipping at my neck. “Hold onto the shelf,” his voice takes on a demanding edge that makes my knees feel weak.

My fingers are trembling as I grip the shelf at waist height and feel Porter’s fingers at the hem of my dress. He touches the stockings I’m wearing and lets out a soft groan as he buries his face against where my neck and shoulder meet.

“So fucking sexy,” his voice is a caress against my skin, and I feel the hair on my arms stand on end.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what he’s doing, but before I can, his hands glide up my legs and under my skirt. When he reaches my bare thighs, he kisses my skin before sucking it between his lips and I bite my lip to stop the moan from escaping.

“That’s right, you need to be quiet, my Starlet. You don’t want anyone to know how naughty you’re being in the stacks with me.”

“We shouldn’t,” I try, but it sounds like a lie, it sounds like I’m begging him to continue.

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