After he put both shoes on her, he rose to his feet, drawing her with him by one hand. “Walk for me, brat.”
She did, and he was damn sure she put an extra swing in her hips to draw his gaze. She never failed to arouse and amuse him. Or make his palm itch to spank her ass. Switch it, flog it. There were caning marks on it today under the snug denim, so he knew she was feeling them every time she moved. Which made that extra swing all the more provocative. It also gave him a flashback to her stretched out and bound over his spanking bench, her body quivering, glistening with perspiration. Her cries as the cane hit her.
When she came back to him, he took one of her hands and drew her closer. He dropped his head to kiss her throat, and felt her breath along his cheek.
“If I decide to marry you, I won’t wait until after. Right before you walk down the aisle, you’ll send Dana to get me,” he said. “You’ll be somewhere alone. I’ll slide those panties off you, lift the front of the dress, drop to my knees and make you come with my mouth on your cunt. When you’re still trembling from the climax I gave you, I’ll use my handkerchief to dry you. Somewhat. I’ll keep the underwear in the pocket of my coat, so the whole time you’re standing in front of the minister, we’ll both know you’re bare and damp under your skirt, for your Master. I won’t fuck you until we’re alone together, though, on our honeymoon night. I’m a traditionalist that way.”
Her eyes lifted to his, and he saw a surge of emotion there that inspired a similar reaction in himself. “Sounds like a perfect reason to get married,” she whispered.
There went that tightening in his chest again, though this time it came from a spike of fear. He’d taken the fantasy too far, because he was getting just as caught up in it. And he knew how bad an idea that was.
He didn’t say that, but he didn’t say anything else, either, and a shadow crossed her face. He gripped her fingers, holding her, and tried to cover lost ground. “I like the shoes.”
It wasn’t his most suave line, and the tightening of her lips said it wasn’t the most effective distraction, but fortunately, she let it go. Maybe because Cassandra returned then, good timing. “Oh, those are perfect. What do you think?”
“I love them,” Marcie said. But when Ben moved to pick up the box, Cass beat him to it.
“No, you don’t. These are wedding shoes. When Marcie gets married, the wedding dress and everything involved with it comes from the family of the bride.”
Ben scowled. “Seems like the groom doesn’t pay for much of anything.”
“The groom’s job will be taking care of her for the rest of her life. Whoever that man is.”
He narrowed his eyes, and Marcie’s gaze snapped to her sister. Cass had on her top-notch negotiator face, bland and pleasant, though Ben registered the shot as if she’d had the muzzle pressed against his gut. Dana slid into the tense gap, speaking to them from a few feet away.
“That man will be Ben,” she said with the calm voice of a minister. “We all know that.” Then Dana directed her next words to Ben. “By the end of today, you may not have any money left to spend, so take a break where you can get it.”
The blind woman had her hands on a pair of red shoes with a tangle of slender straps around them. The three-inch heel was gold, as was the sole. A black streak up the sides of the shoes looked like the flourish of an artist’s paintbrush. She beamed toward Ben, Cass and Marcie, including them all in the pacific gesture. “I don’t know what these cost, but they feel very expensive.”
Cass lips twitched. She gave Ben one of her complicated looks before she turned away, carrying the shoes Marcie wanted. She gestured to her sister to join her. Marcie’s eyes flicked to Ben, but he nodded, reaching out to squeeze her hand, a reassurance. He didn’t want her feeling torn between the two of them.
The store manager stepped in, oblivious to the mini-drama, taking Marcie and Cass toward the horseshoe shaped counter where they’d handle the purchase.
Ben frowned again. Drama aside, he still didn’t like Marcie paying for anything, another of his sexist old school ideas. However, he knew enough about how weddings worked that Cass had the firm ground on the shoes.
Not just on the shoes. Yeah, he hadn’t asked Marcie to marry him. Not technically. She was it for him. She belonged to him, now and forever, unless she ever wanted to reconsider the insanity of being his, which wasn’t looking likely.
But he knew she wanted that bond sanctioned by law and God. He could use big words and argue it was societal influence, and it didn’t mean anything, but that was bullshit. He knew it, she knew it.
The groom did have one purchase that was his responsibility. One that put them even closer to this whole wedding thing being a reality. Till death do you part. Responsible for Marcella Moira’s happiness and well-being, forever.
Marcie would be as happy with a ring won from a carnival as a big-ass, gaudy diamond. To her, being with him was all that mattered, a thought that humbled as much as unnerved him. No diamond could sparkle as strong and clear as her heart and soul, but when he put one on her finger, it would be as classy and beautiful as the woman wearing it.
“Are you going to help me try these on, or does only Marcie get the foot feel-up?”
Ben snapped out of his thoughts to find Dana had taken a seat in a chair that nearly swallowed her, and the brunette was placing a box at her arm. Dana’s size in the red shoes, he assumed.
“It’s so nice you have these shoes in children’s sizes,” he told the store employee.
She blinked dark brown eyes, her glossed lips curving. As her gaze flicked over him, she maintained a professional mien, but he detected the undercurrent of sexual interest clearly enough. She was confident with it, aware of her attractiveness. “We strive to please our patrons in every way,” she said.
She glided away with a lot of hip movement as Dana coughed over a chuckle. “She doesn’t know just how terrifying you are, but if Marcie picks up on her interest, you’ll look like a Muppet in comparison.”
Dropping to a knee, Ben started sliding Dana’s sandals off her small feet. “You really do see more than a blind woman should. Foot feel-up?”
“The other senses are far sharper than you expect. I heard you talking to Marcie, and picked up that you were putting her shoes on her. Then there was her sexy little caught breath, that silence that told me you were doing something naughty to her, and I knew it had to be her feet.” Dana cocked her head, the track lighting glittering over her dark glasses. “Not that hard to figure out, really. As far as the store lady? Pfft. A wet pussy reaction to you from any female with a pulse is a given.”