“Oh, he thinks you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, doesn’t he, cher? But perhaps it is you who are the meal for him, no?”
Marcie squeezed one of Wallenda’s hands in agreement, shooting Ben a look before she wandered off with the other ladies, fanning out to check out the selections. Wallenda moved off with them to offer her help in whatever way was needed.
Ben settled down in a bordello-red easy chair conveniently near the fitting rooms, figuring it would be his best vantage point when they decided what to try on. Dana had already plucked a black teddy out of Wallenda’s stock he found very intriguing, particularly when he imagined it on Marcie.
Speaking of which… His gaze found his girl and lingered, because Marcie was flipping through a rack of short night gowns. She held one out, considering it. The blue silk garment had slits up the side and a layer of black lace over the bodice that would cling to her nipples and reveal them at once. She looked around and, when she found him, she indicated it. Yes or no?
It was a resounding yes, but he took a moment, making her wait, because it would underline that she was determining if it met his approval. When she sought that Master side of him, it stirred his blood and hers, inspiring him to savor.
He nodded at last and she smiled, returning to her browsing but keeping the filmy fabric folded over her arm. His attention slid to Rachel, who was being ushered toward the dressing room by Cass and Dana. Whatever she was contemplating, they were adding their backup to her choices.
Cass’s issues had to do with him and Marcie, how she felt about that, not his money. So Ben knew, out of all of them, Rachel was the least comfortable with picking out anything expensive for him to buy. Perhaps Cass and Savannah had less trouble over it because they were wealthy women in their own right. Not only could they afford whatever Ben was buying, they knew he could more than afford it as well, all of them moving in similar income circles.
As far as Marcie was concerned, he was her Master, and that made a difference. He understood she earned her own money, a good deal of it, and she would use it as she wished. But he provided for her care under his roof because he could, so it was one more way to reinforce that relationship.
Dana’s very low paying but community-oriented job as a minister meant Peter bore the lion’s share of the bills, because his home—now theirs—certainly wasn’t the kind a minister’s salary could afford or maintain. However, he’d eased her mind on it by pointing out she was earning enough good karma to cover his ass for entrance to Heaven. Damn right. The woman worked as many hours some weeks as an on-call surgeon.
But Rachel had a different issue. Watching her be gently urged into the dressing room, Ben knew her being ill-at-ease with him paying came from a lot of places. She’d been a bone-deep submissive all her life with no outlet for it until Jon. She’d made great strides in self-esteem and confidence since they’d been together, but several years balanced against two decades of damage from her first asshole husband meant there were still some snags.
Before she and Jon had met, she’d scraped and saved to get her yoga studio on its feet, funding it with carefully saved money from her work as a physical therapist. Jon never undersold that accomplishment, but Ben suspected somewhere deep inside, Rachel was afraid to seem too dependent or trusting of anyone, for fear of being kicked emotionally in the face, as her husband had done to her too many times. A certain vital level of detachment to shield herself still existed.
He expected she’d pick out one thing with a modest price, but that was fine. The others would know a couple other things she wanted and make sure those landed on the counter.
In the meantime, Rachel stepped out of the dressing room in her carefully chosen outfit. His brain stopped, so he had to rewind and replay what Rachel said to him, a couple seconds after the fact.
“Dana said I should ask if you think Jon will approve.”
Wallenda’s inventory was heaven-sent. She not only sold lingerie, but dresses that could make a man’s blood drain straight to his cock. While still doing just that to male senses, the dress Rachel wore managed to convey top notch class and style. It was black, some kind of stretchy, gathered fabric that outlined and flattered Rachel’s generous breasts and hips. The low back was crisscrossed with straps all the way to the sweet valley above her ass.
A band of fabric around the throat was connected to two straps of fabric that ran diagonally from her neck to beneath her arms, with the effect of triangulating and emphasizing the swelling curves. One tug would bring the neckline below her breasts.
The dress fit her like a second skin in the right way, all the toned yoga curves and soft woman. Ben could imagine it accessorized with the collar Jon had given her, silver wire bound with gold posts, and a sapphire pendant wrapped in more wire.
“If he doesn’t like it, you’re coming to live with me and Marcie, so I can keep you both as my personal sex slaves,” he said bluntly. He held up his phone. “Let’s see what he thinks.”
He shot the picture, including a note with it. As Rachel bent to see the phone screen, he took her hand and did a sharp tug to bring her into his lap, catching her as she tumbled. Plus enjoying the hell out of how the dress rode up even higher on her thighs. She smiled at him as he held her in his arms and showed her what he was texting, as well as how she looked in the picture.
Your lady wants to know if she should get this old rag.
The response came within seconds, and made her smile grow.
Let you know, soon as I can roll my tongue back in my mouth.
Matt, give Jon back his phone. Stop sexting on it.
Rachel covered her mouth on a second laugh and she struggled out of his lap, giving him an amused look as he gave her a boost that slid his hands over some nice curves.
Dana was coming out of the dressing room as Rachel returned to it. Probably the least modest of the group, not just because of her blindness, but because of the Army background, she didn’t appear self-conscious in the least in a red bra that mixed satin with sheer gauze and lace to show plenty of tantalizing glimpses of golden-brown flesh beneath. She wore her jeans with it, a look he heartily approved. Though she couldn’t see herself, he expected it was muscle memory that had her head dipped as if she was looking down while she adjusted the bra padding and then presented herself, hands on hips.
“Okay, do they look plump and tender enough?"
"Are they breasts or a chicken sandwich?" Cass asked tartly. Lucas’s wife had drawn closer and now stood by Ben’s chair, her hand resting next to his shoulder, her smallest finger pressed against it.
"He's going to devour them, so does it matter?" Dana responded.
"Good point,” Ben agreed.
"No, these are good points," Dana said, arching her back flirtatiously. Cass chuckled and shook her head.