I glance up at Jenna’s face. I see the playfulness in her eyes. And the heat. She’s toying with me, but she’s enjoying it, too. I’ve always loved that about her.
“The fit is good, but what about the material?” I ask, reaching out to touch her. Before my fingers meet her body, though, she straightens and starts to walk away.
She stops in the doorway of the dressing room, smiling back at me. “Let me try another one. Maybe something else will tickle your…fancy a little more.”
When the curtain closes, I lean my head back and close my eyes. It’s been a while since I’ve embarrassed myself in public. If this is the way the afternoon’s gonna go, maybe I should start thinking about baseball. Or Margaret Thatcher. Naked. On a cold day.
Before I can conjure one distracting thought, however, I hear the rings on the curtain jingle. Then, all I hear is the music. And the thud of my heartbeat in my ears.
I open my eyes to Jenna masked and dressed in a black leather cat suit with one sparkling silver zipper that goes from throat to crotch. She struts over to me this time, cracking a black leather riding crop over her palm.
She stops in front of the chair and raises one leg to set her stiletto-shod foot on the arm. With her legs spread, I watch as she drags the tail of the riding crop up one long thigh, stopping only when it grazes the V that makes my mouth water.
“How do you like this one?”
I look up at her face. I can see the glimmer in her eyes as she watches me from behind her black domino. She flicks the riding crop between her thighs. I see her lips part like she gasped, only I didn’t hear it. She might be doing this to torture me, but she’s enjoying the hell out of it, too.
I’m just about to take that crop from her hands and show her how I could use it on her when she turns on her heel and walks back the way she came. My eyes are glued to her ass. Blood pumps through my body with each exaggerated swing of her hips.
As I wait, try as I might, I can’t think of baseball or naked, old British women. I can only think of Jenna. And what she might be wearing next. And how much I wish I was in there while she changes.
When the curtain parts a third time, Jenna appears wearing a teeny tiny white dress with a red cross over the left breast. The top is split to the navel and, if she moved just right, I could probably see nipple. On her feet are red shoes. Around her neck is a red stethoscope.
She starts toward me again, but before she reaches me, she stops, dragging the stethoscope from around her neck. She lets it dangle from her fingertips for a few seconds before she drops it onto the floor behind her.
With wide, round eyes, she purses her lips and says, “Oops!” covering her mouth with her fingertips in a gesture Betty Boop would be proud of. Then, in slow motion, she pivots on her high red heel and bends at the waist to pick up her stethoscope.
As the short dress rises over her hips, I see the curve of her ass and the dark shadow between her legs. Damn her, she’s not wearing any panties!
I give absolutely no thought to where we are, or the fact that I’m supposed to be keeping my hands off her. I simply get up and go to her. Jenna affects me like that. She consumes me. Completely sometimes.
She yelps in surprise when I jerk her upright and whirl her around. I pull her up against my chest and raise my finger to her lips.
“Shhh,” I mutter, backing her up into the dressing room she just vacated.
Once inside, I pull the curtain shut behind us. With that song still playing, I reach around Jenna to feel for the zipper on her skimpy costume. Her breathing is heavy as it hits my lips. She’s panting.
I ease down the zipper and then pull the white material from her shoulders, peeling it down to her waist. She’s not wearing a bra underneath either; the outfit is cut too low for one. Gently, I palm one plump breast, rubbing my calloused hand over the nipple. Jenna’s mouth drops open and I remind her again, “Shhh.”
I tweak the pebble and smile when she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. I bend my head and suck one nipple into my mouth as I push her costume down over her hips. I let it fall down her legs to pool on the floor.
Jenna’s breathing is ragged as I kiss my way down her stomach. Cupping the back of her knee, I push back so that she leans into the corner for balance as I bring her foot up off the ground and prop it on my shoulder, opening her up for me.
I place one kiss on the inside of her thigh before I slide my mouth over to nuzzle the silky, wet flesh between her legs. I flick my tongue over her, just once, and I inhale. “God, I miss this.” I feel her shudder when I exhale warm, moist air on her. Slowly lowering her leg, I straighten to stand before her. “I miss you.”
Jenna’s eyes are heavy and her lips are trembling.
“But I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”
“Still, I can’t have you, though, can I?” She watches me with her hazelnut eyes, but says nothing. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am. “Let’s go home. Before I commit a felony in here.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” she replies softly.
“Oh no. When the time finally comes, I want you screaming my name. More than once.” With a grin I know will drive her nuts, I back out of the curtain, telling her just before I close it, “Just remember this when I see you tonight.”
I smile all the way out the door. The funny thing is, Trick’s already outside waiting on me.
CHAPTER SEVEN - Jenna
When we walk into Lucky’s, the only place Cami would agree to have this joint bachelor slash bachelorette venture, my eyes immediately scan the crowd for Rusty. I’m not sure what the female equivalent of blue balls is, or if there even is one, but if there is, I’ve got it!
Since walking out of the shop with the three of them and getting a chaste kiss on the cheek as Rusty opened the car door for me, I’ve been unable to think anything other than his lips on me. And how much I want them on me. Now.
I don’t see him at first, so Cami and I make our way to the cluster of tables that Daryl, the manager of Lucky’s, let us push together under the giant banner that reads CONGRATULATIONS, TRICK AND CAMI! Behind that, in front of the stage, is a curtain I borrowed from the local funeral home. They use it as a partition when the need arises. It’s super-sized, solid black and thick as hell, perfect for what I needed. It conceals the night’s two main attractions.
I grin when I take in the costumes of the members of the wedding party who have already arrived. I picked them out specifically so they’d match.