Chapter 18
NICO
“This is nice.” I pat the comfy chaise lounge and kick my legs up on it, making myself at home. Might as well since the saleswoman put Jo in a dressing room with a plethora of clothing to try on.
And I have the perfect seat for the show.
Jo told me the other day how she needed to go shopping for something to wear to her great-grandmother’s birthday party, but she kept putting it off. Now, with only a few days left, what else was there for me to do but come to the rescue and take her shopping?
Since the girl strictly wears black jeans, T-shirts, and hoodies, I put in a couple calls to find out where I should take her to buy a dress and was directed to this designer boutique by Rittenhouse Square, where I practically dragged Jo inside kicking and screaming.
Especially once she saw the price tags.
“Two hundred dollars for this?” she hissed, whacking at my arm, as if it was my fault for designing the glittery tank top. “Is it made out of real gold?”
I shrugged, holding it up to her, picturing what it would look like on her. Jojo doesn’t strike me as the disco-ball type, but since I’ve been replaying her little striptease from last week in my head every day, she could wear a potato sack and I wouldn’t care.
The sight of her heavy tits with their pretty pink tips and the soft curve of her belly has been haunting me. Not to mention the curve of her ass and thighs. She’s a perfect hourglass, like something out of an old-school girlie magazine. Perfect fodder for my imagination.
Though, now that I know what it feels like to have Jo’s fingers and mouth wrapped around my cock, my hand just hasn’t been doing the trick.
But already, from simply lounging here in front of the dressing room where she’s stripping down, a familiar tingle bubbles down deep.
I took a hard hit in the game last night, and I should definitely be home relaxing before the team leaves this afternoon for a road game tomorrow, but I wasn’t going to miss out on a chance to spoil my betrothed.
We have a rare three days off coming up, and that’s when I’ll be driving Jo down to West Virginia for the party. I volunteered to buy us plane tickets, but apparently she’s not a good flyer, so I promised I’d have the car gassed up and snacks prepared for the ride.
Can’t be mad at it, though. Seven hours alone with my favorite person? I am looking forward to it. If only she could pick out something to wear.
She opens the door to the dressing room with a frown, the first outfit on.
It’s a long skirt that looks to be made out of leather, with a black top.
I silently lift my index finger, circling it in the air, and she sneers at me but spins in a slow circle anyway.
I don’t think she can move very much in the skirt, but the back of the top catches my eye. “Is that a hood?”
She refuses to put it up.
“Oh, come on. We need the whole look of it.”
Jo still doesn’t move, so I stand and lift the hood onto her head before stepping back, eyeing her. “Kinda reminds me of a nun.”
“Exactly what I’m going for.”
I clap my hands and flop back down on the chaise. “Next!”
“Stop enjoying this so much,” she mumbles as she shuffles back into the dressing room.
Outfit number two is another skirt and top in matching olive green. She doesn’t like it, so neither do I.
Number three is a black dress with shoulder pads because they’re supposedly back in style, but I shake my head, and Jo agrees, pulling the zipper down before she’s even closed the door, accidentally gifting me a sneak peek of her back.
Never seen a sexier three inches of skin.
She won’t even show me outfit number four and hates number five because it’s a jumpsuit and apparently you can’t go to the bathroom without taking the whole thing off, but I think she looks hot in it and spend a few minutes trying to convince her.
But she shuts the door, and I let my head drop back, wondering if she’ll find anything she likes.
A few minutes later, she steps out in what I can only assume is lingerie.
She looks fuckhot in the dark blue minidress that clings to her, but she’s obviously uncomfortable, pulling at the delicate straps that hold up the few inches of material.
I don’t know how it could possibly cost $595 to make it, but I’d pay it multiple times over.
Jo uselessly tugs at the hem that barely covers her ass. “It’s so small.”
“I think it fits perfectly.”
She glances at me then down at where her nipples are almost showing. “You’re such a boy.”
I deliberately readjust myself. Not because I’m hard—getting there—but I want her to know that she is desirable.
I desire her.
“I really like this one,” I tell her, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.
“I can’t wear it around my family. I wear more to bed!”
“Let’s get it anyway.” I move to raise my hand to alert the saleswoman, but Jo lunges at me.
“Don’t you dare. We’re not getting this one.”
We’re, as in we are, as in we are a team, and I like that Jo’s referring to us together.
I also like that she allows me to buy her things. She long ago stopped fighting me about buying her gifts and paying her bills, which is perfect practice for when I start paying for the real big things.
Like a house and a wedding and honeymoon in Santorini.
But first things first…we need a dress.
“This isn’t it,” she says and pivots around to once again change.
I swipe my hands over my face and check my watch.
I’ve got to be at the arena in about three hours.
If she doesn’t find something soon, I won’t be able to take her anywhere else today.
I mean, sure, she could go on her own, but Jo’s sense of style is the same as a fourteen-year-old boy from 1995.
Left to her own devices, she would show up in a long flannel button-down over her “nice” pair of jeans and call it a day.
Not that I’d care.
But for her confidence, sanity, and ego, I want her to find something she loves. Something that’ll make her feel good and will make all those motherfuckers in that backward-ass town lose their minds.
So when she steps back out of the dressing room in her next little number, my jaw drops. Because this is it.
“What do you think?” She spins in a timid circle, and I blow out a breath.
“Jo…” I stand, needing to get a better look. “You are stunning.”
“Yeah?” She bites into her bottom lip and checks herself out in the mirror.
I can’t help myself. The material appears too soft not to touch, and I step behind her, resting my hand on her waist. “What do you think of it? Do you like it?”
Her dark eyes journey over her reflection, over the long sleeves that she nervously toys with.
At first glance, it’s not too revealing, but it’s the way the material is gathered at her waist, how the dress hits her mid-thigh, and the severe V-neck that makes me lose my words.
It’s burgundy, close to the lipstick color she likes to wear, and when she angles herself so she can see her backside, I palm it. “You look so fucking pretty.”
She tips her face up to me. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
“I think it’s perfect, but you’re the one who has to love it. Do you?”
“It feels good,” she says, plucking at the sleeves, and I slide my palm over her ass to squeeze her hip.
“Yep.”
“I like that it shows my body a little, you know?”
I lean down to brush my lips over the curve of her neck. “Mm-hmm.”
“But I don’t have shoes to wear with it.”
“We’ll buy some for you. Jewelry, purse, whatever you need.”
She breathes out a laugh. “You like it that much?”
I lift my head from where I’ve been nuzzling behind her ear. “I like you that much.”
Her throat works on a swallow, and it’s the last straw. I wrap one arm around her middle and the other around her mouth, as I all but carry her into the dressing room. “I need five minutes, that’s all, okay? But you have to be quiet?”
“Quiet?” she asks as I kneel down on the floor. “Nico, what are you—”
“Shh.” I lift the skirt and skim my hands up her thighs. “Just…let me do this. I need to.”
“Do what?” she whispers, and I reach my arm up, placing my index finger against her mouth.
“Be quiet and let me do my thing.” When I place an openmouthed kiss on her inner thigh, she gasps and finally understands, with a soft “oh god.”
“Yeah, I need to taste you straight from the source, but I’ll have to stop if you keep making noise, and I really don’t want to stop. So please, mama, be quiet.”
She rolls her lips over her teeth and nods, eyes as big as dinner plates, tension thrumming through her limbs. No one has ever gone down on her before, and I am less than a Neanderthal for how much my ego inflates because I’ll be the first.
Even worse, the possessive voice in the back of my head screams at me to make sure I’m the only, but I can’t think about that now when I’m busy shimmying her panties down her legs. I stuff them in my pocket and thrust up the bottom of the dress to her waist, ordering, “Hold this.”
She does without a sound, and I skim my hands up the backs of her thighs as I drag the tip of my nose along her pelvic bone. She smells so good my mouth waters, and I haven’t even put it on her yet.
But before I do, I tilt my head back. “I’m going to make you come with my mouth and probably my fingers, okay?”
She nods.
“Remember, you have to stay quiet.”
Another nod.
“If we get caught, I’m sure it’ll become a whole thing on the internet that Nico Tremblay was eating out his fiancée in public, and I don’t think either one of us wants that to happen, right?”
She shakes her head.
“So you going to be good for me?”
At her final nod, I grin. “Attagirl.”
Then she closes her eyes and lets her head thunk back against the wall, her knuckles white with how hard she’s fisting the material of her dress, keeping it up and out of my way.
With my fingertips digging into her ass cheeks, I lean in to lick up her slit once before I pause to make sure she won’t make a sound. When she doesn’t, I continue, flattening my tongue and doing it again, drinking in her taste.
My new favorite flavor.
Her breath hitches and her skin pebbles, but my good girl keeps quiet, so I use my fingers to open her up, slide inside her slick heat while I swirl my tongue around her clit.
The material of her dress is soft enough that I can easily tug the neckline down to move her bra cup out of the way, gaining access to her breast, rubbing the stiff peak back and forth with my thumb, earning even more panting breaths.
When I crook my fingers, finding the swollen spot against her inner wall, she abandons the hem of her dress and digs her fingers into my hair as she places one of her legs over my shoulder, rolling her hips, making sure I’m using the right tempo and pressure for her.
Innocent little Jojo isn’t so innocent anymore.
Being debauched in a boutique dressing room.
“Nico,” she whispers, her muscles trembling, and I tilt my chin up to meet her wild-eyed gaze. “I’m going to come.”
With a twitch of my fingers and a flick of my tongue, she does. She shudders and squirms and drenches my fingers and tongue.
Delicious.
Beautiful.
Once Jo’s calm and steady on two feet again, I stand up, placing kisses along her jaw and temple. “So, you like this dress, then?”
She giggles drunkenly against my shoulder. “Yeah. I like this one.”