We were both dripping with sweat and heaving with ragged breaths. Oz trembled almost uncontrollably while I stayed frozen inside of him, unwilling to move one molecule and spoil the perfect moment. The silence of the winter night descended around us until all I could hear was the distant crackling of the fire from the other room.
I finally had to pull out to deal with the condom. When I did, Oz collapsed onto his front directly in the wet spot without caring. I brushed damp hair back from his forehead and dropped a long kiss there.
“That was fucking amazing, baby. Anytime you want me to wear a dress in the future, just say the word.”
Chapter 17
Oz
The next two days were like a fantasy sequence. While we waited for the snowplows to reach us, we spent the days alternating between comfortable companions and hot-as-fuck lovers. Jake bantered back and forth with Boo while I cut and pinned and sewed. We stopped long enough for two things–meals and sex. I couldn’t say what we ate, but every single time our bodies came together in pleasure was imprinted on my brain for all time.
Jake was both aggressive and gentle as hell in bed. He alternated between bossing me around and treating me with exquisite tenderness. I craved his touch. It got to the point that I could just look over at him from my spot behind my sewing machine a certain way and he’d drop whatever he was doing to swoop me over his shoulder and slam me down on my bed. Half the time, I’d wind up naked before I even realized it was happening.
I’d almost forgotten about the real world outside by the time it came barging in. We’d just finished lunch when I’d asked Jake to put on the suiting gown I was finishing. I wanted to audition buttons for the placket up the front of the bodice, and the best way to do that was to see the dress upright on a model. As usual, I had to tie the dress closed with a sash, since he was no woman’s size two, but it covered most of him except the wide gap in the back.
Sometimes I made a point of walking around him when he had it on, just so I could admire his sinewy back muscles through that gap.
I held three different buttons up to the front of the gown and noticed Jake’s hands running over the folds in the skirt again. The cashmere I’d used for some of the overskirt seemed to fascinate him.
“Did you notice I added hidden pockets?” I asked while I tilted my head to think about the buttons some more.
“You did?” His hands fumbled around the folds, trying to find the openings of the pockets.
“Mm-hm. Women are going to go apeshit for that. They hate not having pockets. This gown is full enough to hide whatever they’ll carry. Many aren’t. You can’t put a pocket in a body-conscious design because anything you carry in it would show.”
Before he could respond, Boo let out a yip with a throaty growl, causing Jake and I to turn toward her in surprise. She usually only barked like that if someone was visiting or if Jake was outside his place. Jazz was playing over my Bluetooth speaker, and I realized it would have hidden the sound of an approaching vehicle.
Suddenly, there was rapping on the window next to the door. I automatically headed for it.
“Oh fuck, no. Oz, wait,” Jake called just as I reached out to open the door for Xander, Bennett, and Lucky.
“Well, helloooo there,” Xander cooed, staring right at Jake wearing a couture evening gown. Bennett and Lucky stood wide-eyed next to him for about three seconds before Bennett began laughing and Lucky started searching his pockets. “We came to tell you the road to town was clear and invite you to dinner, but maybe you have other plans…” Xander said, completely failing to stifle a smile.
“Shit,” Jake grumbled, trying to twist out of the dress. “Lucky, touch that phone and I’ll post pictures of your fathers making out onto your Facebook page every day for a year.” Lucky paled and held up his empty hands. I quickly grabbed Jake’s wrist and shot him a warning glance.
“You break it, you buy it, hotshot,” I cautioned as Jake fumbled to get the dress off. “And it ain’t cheap.”
He let out a breath of surrender and held out his hands in supplication. He faced our visitors and proudly said, “What, you’ve never seen an evening gown before? It’s an OzzieB original. You saw it here first.”
I was torn between swelling with pride at his words and laughing my ass off at his made-up label name. He’d finally met Zoey on FaceTime the night before and they’d begun riffing on what name I should show my collection under. The suggestions had gone from out of hand to downright vulgar.