She laughs, sweet and melodic. “It’s just, I really enjoy the look on your face whenever I mention Ubers.”
“A sadist, I see,” I taunt. “Kind of like I enjoy the look on your face when my come is dripping from your eyelashes.”
“Win!”
Chuckling, I drag her into the dress shop. As soon as the two women working the store see me, they nearly trip over themselves to assist. I not-so-gently shove Ash toward them.
“Black tie affair,” I grunt out. “Something blue for my assistant.”
The women flutter around Ash while I plop down in an armchair. Sprawling out, I scratch at my jaw as I watch them fuss over her. I can tell she’s not used to getting the star treatment in a shop. My little sisters, Vivian, Elaine, and Tinsley are spoiled girls and would already have these ladies rushing all over to accommodate them. Not Ash. She seems overwhelmed and shoots me a helpless look.
“Get the girl some champagne,” I bark out.
One of the women jolts like she’s been shocked and scampers off. Ash glares at me. I shrug and then set to taking care of some business on my phone. They parade her in front of me for an hour, choosing more daring choices each time. The thought of her stepbrothers seeing all her skin on display puts me in a really terrible fucking mood.
“No,” I grind out. “This is a Constantine party, not a high school prom.” I stand, pocket my phone, and then thumb through some more modest selections. “This one.”
The woman makes a face. “It’s very . . . simple.”
“I like that one,” Ash chimes in. “It’s chic and pretty.”
That settles it.
“Put it on, and let me see,” I instruct.
“Yes, boss,” Ash grumbles, sticking her tongue out at me.
The woman helping her gapes, horrified at her action. I narrow my eyes, giving Ash a look that promises punishment for her naughty tongue. While Ash dresses in the fitting room, I send some emails.
“This is an Edward Arsouni Couture evening gown. Very elegant,” the woman says, suddenly a fan of the dress. “Timeless, really.”
Lifting my gaze, I’m pleased with the way it hugs Ash’s curves in a tasteful way my mother will approve of. It has three-quarter-length sleeves and is floor length, a rich jacquard-blue with twinkling beaded embellishments.
“Look,” Ash says, smoothing her hand over the design. “It’s a bird.”
“Beautiful. She’ll need shoes and a handbag,” I tell the women. “Wrap it up.”
Ash preens a little, spinning and watching the way the dress swirls around her. Even in a simple dress, she’s breathtaking. It’ll be difficult hiding the way this girl makes me feel. Mother will sniff it out and demand answers, that’s for damn sure.
But unlike most mothers who want their son to find a good girl and get married, my mother will be ready to shred Ash’s life hunting for reasons why she isn’t good enough. That’s exactly why I want to avoid the subject of my seeing someone. Eventually, after Ash attends enough events with me, it’ll become a conversation I’ll have to have with Mother, but until then, I’ll evade it as long as possible.
Ash goes back into the fitting room. I rise and follow after her, eager to ruffle her feathers a bit. She gasps when I slip through the curtain. Her hazel eyes are wide as she stares at me in the mirror.
“Let me assist,” I rumble, stepping close to grab hold of the zipper.
She stills as I unzip the dress. Gently, I push the dress off her shoulders and down her arms. Her tits jiggle in her black bra, looking like two tasty temptations wrapped in sheer lace. I help her out of the dress, ignoring the way my dick strains in my slacks when I get a prime view of her sexy ass in matching panties.
I take the dress from her and hand it to the woman waiting outside the dressing room. She rushes off with it, leaving us in privacy.
“Good girls deserve rewards,” I growl as I stalk her way.
She turns, her brow arched high. “Like an eight-thousand-dollar dress?”
“The free kind of reward,” I clarify. “Sit on the bench.”
“Winston . . .” She frowns. “They’ll hear.”
“They’re busy wrapping up your dress. Let’s get to it if you want privacy.”
Hesitation flashes over her features before decision settles in her hazel orbs. She sits down on the bench. I kneel down in front of her and wrench her thighs apart.
“Oh, how the mighty hath fallen,” she taunts, clearly loving that she thinks she has the upper hand.
“I can still own you from my knees, Cinderelliott. Mark my words.”
Dipping down, I inhale her cunt that is fragrant with her arousal. She whimpers when I run my nose over her clit. The lace is wet.
“Dirty girl,” I croon. “Always so needy for me.”