Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“Don’t forget to call the dress—”
“I got it. Fuck off.” He flips me the bird and disappears into the foyer.
24
LUCRETIA
“But isn’t this a wake?” I run my fingers along the rack full of bright dresses.
“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” Lito pulls a dress and hangs it at the front of the rack, then another, then swaps two of them. “Okay, these are organized from what I like the worst to best.”
“Why am I trying on the ‘worst’ ones at all?”
“We’re building up to the best. If we know what we don’t like, we’ll know the right one when we see it.” He plops on the bed and waves a hand. “Get to it.”
“Um.” I pluck the first dress from the rack. It’s neon yellow, long, fitted, and has a pop of feathers on the asymmetrical shoulder strap. “Can I just go ahead and say ‘no’ to this one?”
He wrinkles his nose. “I suppose, but only for that one. All the rest, you have to try.”
“Ugh.” I hang the yellow monstrosity at the back of the line and grab the next. I want to protest this one, too, but I already know Lito isn’t going to budge. So, I strip down to my panties—Lito plays on his phone and pays my nudity no mind at all—and slide it on. It’s a salmon pink gown, and even its ruffles have ruffles. “Um, thoughts?”
He looks up, then barks a laugh. “Hello, Dolly! What are you singing for us tonight?”
My cheeks heat. “Why am I trying on the bad ones!” I yank it off over my head, frilly bits scratching my cheeks, and toss it onto the chair.
“I need some amusement in my life. Please continue.” He goes back to his phone. “And ditch the panties. I can see the lines.”
“Brat.” I shuck my panties and try on three more dresses, get three more snarky comments, then grab one of the ones on the ‘best’ side when he’s not looking. Creeping behind the rack, I start to pull it on when he calls, “I’m going for snacks. Be right back.”
“Always the damn snacks,” I grumble, though I secretly hope he comes back with some of the honey almond brittle that Carter makes. It’s amazing.
The door closes and I’m able to take my time and examine the dress in the closet mirror. It’s red, the front dipping in a low V, with thin straps that go over my shoulders. The back is open, but not so far down that my bruises show. The high slit hits almost at my hip, and if I wore the right pair of heels, I have to admit I’d look pretty smoking. I reach up and lift my hair, pretending it’s in an updo.
A shadow passes across the closet door, and then I see him.
Mateo.
His eyes seize on me like a predator’s teeth in prey. “Princess,” he breathes.
I drop my hair as he walks up behind me, his hands girdling my waist as he looks me up and down in the mirror.
“This is the one.” He leans down and nibbles my ear, my body already warming under his touch. “You look like a meal.”
I gasp when he moves to my neck, his mouth teasing my skin as he licks and sucks, his hands moving to the thin straps and easing them off my shoulders. When my breasts are bare, he groans and palms them, squeezing them as the silky dress falls to the floor.
“Mateo.” I shiver as he grips my chin and turns my face to his, his mouth conquering mine with a sureness that sets me on fire.
One of his hands traces lower, going between my thighs. “I like it when you don’t wear panties.” He nibbles my lip, then turns me and pushes me up against the closet door.
“What are you—Mmm.” I moan as he strokes my clit, his fingers already playing me like a well-loved instrument.
I hear his belt come undone, and then I feel his cock head pressing against my ass.
“We can’t. Lito will—”
“Wait,” he finishes for me, then grabs one thigh and lifts it, perching my foot on the wooden closet cabinet.
I gasp when his cock head presses at my entrance.
Then he grips my hip and lifts me so I’m on tiptoe. “There you are, princess.” With a groan, he slides into me.
My toes curl, my mind going blank as he pulls back and glides back in.
“Fuck!” His voice is gravelly. “Your cunt was made for me.” He thrusts into me harder, our skin slapping as he continues stroking my clit.
Pinned against the door, all I can do is moan and take it, take each stroke from him, his cock owning me over and over again. I push back against him, and he grips the nape of my neck, holding me still as he plunges so deep that I cry out.