I glanced down at the dress in front of me. “No? What do you mean?”
He threw the items back in my suitcase and stepped in front of me. Reaching out, he slipped his fingers across my slit, making me shiver.
“Nothing underneath,” he said as he dipped his fingers into my pussy.
He let out a small groan and licked his lips as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out. My mouth dropped open, and my hips rode his fingers as I stared into his eyes.
Commando would get rid of panty lines, but I had a feeling that wasn’t why Six had taken them from me.
“No bra? My boobs aren’t as perky as they used to be.”
His other hand reached out and grabbed on to my tit hard, squeezing it. I hissed from the pain and tried to pull back. Being a B-cup, there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot for him to grab, but it seemed enough for him to keep me where I was. That and the other hand that was still working my pussy.
“You need to stop fucking distracting me.”
“You’re the one who told me to strip.” My voice came out breathy and needy.
In an almost violent spin, he released me and stormed off to the bathroom for his own shower. My legs went weak, and I sat down on the bed to calm down.
I hated the man, despised what he’d done to my life, yet I wanted nothing more than his body on mine, his cock inside me.
The duality raging inside me had me not knowing which side was up and hanging on for dear life.
“I shouldn’t have to rub one out with you so close,” Six said an hour later as we headed out the door.
“You could have fucked me. We both wanted it.” I stopped denying I wanted him a week prior. It just made life easier, especially with the difficulty my life had become. One less thing to fret about.
“We didn’t have time.” The elevator stopped one floor down and two good looking men in tailored suits stepped on, causing Six to pull me closer. “But later, I’m going to fucking tear your pussy apart.”
A shudder ran through me, my pussy clenching at the thought. The comment even earned a glance from the two men, whose gazes lingered on my body before they turned back around.
The part I couldn’t understand was why did sex sound so good coming from the man who was going to kill me?
Probably because Six was really good at sex. The only good thing in my complicated existence.
The two men exited the elevator first, giving me another passing glance, which I had to admit excited me a little bit.
“Why dress me up in the first place?” I asked as we slid into the car we picked up upon arrival, that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know where it came from. It fell into his more-money-than-common-sense spending. “You could have just kept me locked up, as usual.”
“Just keep your mouth shut when we get there.”
I rolled my eyes. The man couldn’t answer most questions, and I never knew what he was thinking about. With the exception of sex. He had so many tells for that.
My gaze gobbled up each and every building and monument we passed. Paris was beautiful and historic, and it made me wish even more that I’d traveled while in college.
We stopped in front of a rather large building with columns, the door up a flight of stone steps. Those were going to be a bitch in the heels I was wearing.
“Play your part well, and I’ll let you come multiple times,” he said as he held out his arm for me to grab on to.
I nodded and wrapped my arm in his, my heart hammering in my chest. By force of will, I tilted my head back and forced my muscles to relax and tightened back up in what I hoped resembled a confident posture.
My first step ended in a bit of a wobble, due to nerves or the uneven surface. I wasn’t quite sure which, but with luck, Six’s arm, and good balance, I remained standing.
“Don’t fucking fall. I’m not picking your ass up,” he said between clenched teeth.
Chivalry dead? I was beginning to think so. Then again, he probably exhibited manners only when the situation warranted them.
We stepped through two huge, thick wooden doors that had to be at least twelve feet high. Elegant crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the floors were made of marble with intricate inlaid patterns. Enormous antique mirrors with golden frames hung from the twenty-foot-high walls. Elaborate décor and accessories enhanced the air of aristocracy of the large lobby.
It was a stunning tribute to the craftsmen who created them.
A man stepped up to us about twenty feet in. He appeared to be an employee and not the caliber of clientele the establishment catered to. With a wary smile, he spoke what I was pretty sure was a welcoming greeting and not a Pretty Woman you-can’t-shop-here attitude.