Page 80 of Ward Willing
She has a few tattoos that I didn’t know about.
The tiny flower on her right collarbone is actually part of a delicate tattoo that loops around the outside of her breast and ends near her ribs. When she’s wearing a shirt—even a tank top—you can only see the top.
There’s also a smiling, cartoon cat face on her hip, and a smattering of hearts along her left ribcage.
Smiling slightly, she takes the copper colored set and pulls on a delicate-looking copper and black lace thong, letting the luxe material snap against her hip bone. Then she pulls on a matching bra, clasping it behind her back. The cups are made of frilly copper lace, and the silk straps form a triangle above her breasts, meeting and forming a bow. She grabs the largest piece—what looks to be a corset—and holds it out to me.
“I need your help with this one,” she murmurs.
Taking a step forward, I grab the corset from her. “Turn around and put your hands on the cabinet.”
Her cheeks are flushed and she’s watching me with a smoldering expression. She does as I say, turning slowly and placing her small hands above her head on the wood cabinet above her.
“Stay still,” I murmur, leaning down close to her ear.
“Be careful,” she whispers. “It’s Chantilly lace, and it’s made with Swarovski crystals. You might want to wash your dirty hands,” she adds.
“And how much, exactly, did this little piece cost you?” I ask, my voice low.
“Twenty-five hundred dollars.”
I let out a low whistle. “It would be a shame to ruin something so luxurious.”
Before she can react, I take the corset from her hands and bring it around her front, fastening it one clasp at a time. Every time I touch her, she shivers, and I chuckle as I drag a finger down her spine, marking her with black grease—and making her shudder and gasp.
My cock is a heavy, pulsing knot, and I swear when I’m around her, I’m drunk with desire.
When I finish clasping the corset, which is tight but not restrictive, she turns around and takes the hair tie out of her hair.
Fuuuuck. Me.
The copper lace is the exactshade of her eyes, and it also brings out the golden undertones in her skin. Her dark hair cascades down past her shoulders. Crossing her legs, she leans back against the counter.
“So? Are you happy with your purchases?” she asks, her voice husky.
“It depends on who they’re for,” I respond, watching her reaction.
“I told you. For my future Dom,” she says, a snarky tone to her voice.
My jaw hardens. I take a step closer—so close I can smell her shampoo.Violets.Why do violets always remind me of her, of that night? Her breathing hitches when I stop an inch away from her, and as I peer down at her face, I realize that her normally light brown eyes are nearly black right now.
“Are you trying to rile me up, Zoe? Is that what this is about? You want me to be your Dom?”
“No,” she argues, eyes full of mischief. “You’re too polite to be my Dom, Liam.”
I smile. “You’re right. I am polite. Just not in bed.”
Zoe goes still at my words, but before I walk away, I admire the way her eyes soften, the way she seems to lean closer into me. All signs she’s comfortable with me. All signs she’d submit to me if I asked her to. And that fact alone blows my mind more than anything—that she doesn’t seem to struggle with her submission at all. Sheembracesit. In real life, she’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Her mind is filled with maturity and intelligence that have taken me two decades to achieve.
She coulddoanything.
Bewith anyone.
And yet…
If I asked her to kneel before me, I know she’d do it without hesitation.
That thought alone has me so hard it’s painful.
