Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Undressing Room
We shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Especially not while I was on the clock.
But how could I resist my boyfriend’s embrace after such a stressful shift? Gosh, Angel smelled so enticing. We kissed as his roaming hands explored my exposed flesh.
“Is this a close enough look for you?” I asked, arching my chest toward him.
“Not yet.” He raked his gaze over the snug fit on my breasts. “How does it feel?”
I smoothed the stretched cups and pinched my nipples. “Good. Really good.”
He slid his palm down the curve of my spine, pulling me into him as he shifted the sleeve to expose the sides of my breasts. “Can I feel for myself?”
“Don’t mess with the merchandise.” I put my hand on his chest, and he whimpered low.
It was nice to know that despite my lack of experience, I still managed to fluster him.
His pupils flared with desire. “Does that mean I should look and not touch?”
“It means my boss could come back from break any second, so we have to be quick.” I gently stopped his lips from swooping in to mine. “And quiet,” I warned him.
“Sounds like a challenge. For you.” He kissed my finger so tenderly that the blood pulsing in my ears drowned out the sultry songs on our overhead speakers.
“I’m up for it,” I insisted.
“So am I.” He smirked and pressed himself against my leg. “That’s why I ran here.”
Just for a chance to see me, feel me.
I flicked open his shirt, idly dragging my nails across the downy hair on his flushed chest as he caressed my body. For all his teasing, was it possible he was the one desperate for me?
This wasn’t the best place to get hot and heavy.
Although I had just cleaned the dressing room, so this was the nicest it’d ever been.
Touching him wouldn’t be too bad. Just touching, I swore to myself, but gasped when he palmed my breast.
“Quiet, pidge,” he whispered, his breath puffing against the shell of my ear.
I shuddered with pleasure. This was flirting with disaster. Fondling it, actually. I bit down on my lip as he massaged my breasts. A desperate moan vibrated in my throat.
How was he able to calibrate all my nerve endings to bliss?
Surely, I could do the same for him.
As he teased me to the edge of oblivion, I caressed and examined his beautiful body for erogenous zones.
Ears were sensitive. Maybe I could twist that pretty little arrow piercing through his cartilage. I traced the curve of his ear, but he just smiled and tweaked my nipple.
“Ah,” I cried out, my sex clenching. Why didn’t he have as sensitive nerve endings as me?
Angel grinned and cupped the apex of my thighs, gently probing my now-damp clothes.
It’d be so easy to rock my hips and find some relief, let him take care of me.
But this time, I wanted to be the one in the driver’s seat.
I rubbed the stressed front seam of his pants, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second.
This was it. This was my moment to show him I wasn’t just some needy little virgin. I was a partner. And sometimes, a goddess.
I adjusted his slacks, pumping him slow enough to make his hips jerk into my hand.
Inhaling sharply, he made to reach under my waistband, but this wasn’t the time for reciprocation.
I pushed him into a nearby chair.
The shock on his face made me crack a smile, but I schooled my expression into a seductive smirk as I repositioned him near the three-way mirror.
“Sit back and enjoy the view,” I purred, slipping the mesh bra off and over my head. My breasts dropped gracefully back onto my chest as I tossed the bra onto my shirt.
Angel gaped at me in awe, gripping his thighs as if to stop himself from yanking me into his lap. In this room, I was in charge.
And he was mine. All mine.
I spread his knees and knelt before him, relishing his reverent gaze as I wrapped my lips around the most sensitive part of him.
The tang of salt brushed my tongue. At my first tentative suck, he jerked his hips.
“Too much?” I whispered.
He shook his head. I was never too much for him. He was trying to hold back.
Breathing heavy, he delicately collected my hair at the nape of my neck, then caressed my cheek.
My nerve endings pricked to attention, singing his praises.
He didn’t need to call me his ‘good girl’ aloud.
Every look and touch promised he adored me.
I clenched my thumb to suppress my gag reflex, then took him deeper.
He swallowed a groan, rolling his head to stifle whatever surged within him.
I quickly learned how to take care of him—to tease him, to pleasure.
How much pressure, what angle, what rhythm made him flex with need. His grip tightened in my hair, his breathing ragged. “Pidge…”
I popped my mouth off him, switching to my hand, and glanced at us in the mirror.
Angel was disheveled, shirt and plants splayed open, hair damp with sweat. Droplets of water clung to the edge of his eyelashes, his dark, unfocused gaze on me. Our eyes met in the reflection, and desire pulsed through every fiber of my being.
We were beautiful and sexy. I’d be able to please him just as much as he could please me. We could take care of each other. And ourselves.
Maybe at the same time.
I touched myself and worked his cock, my hands slick with our arousal. Every time I wanted to moan, I put my mouth on him again to indulge another urge.
We could do anything.
Together.
Everything tightened—our muscles, our grips on each other. Warmth splashed across my chest as he breathed my name.
I loved him so much.
I loved who I could be, especially with him. I was alive, awake, and safe to be myself, even in these unexpected situations.
Sighing happily, I slumped against his leg, basking in our little lavender haze, the love glow that’d linger with us far longer than our time at The Closette.
He gently combed his fingers through my hair, and I closed my eyes. It’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. Even with my knees on the floor at this somewhat awkward angle.
“You good, pidge?” he whispered.
I nodded, and he urged me into his lap, where we hugged and kissed, leaving little splotches of warm adoration all over each other. But we didn’t have too much time for aftercare. We'd make up for it later, we implied with every lingering touch as we freshened up.
“Lucky you had these handy,” he said, spreading a cool cloth under my breasts.
“We know how to clean up nice at The Closette,” I rasped, buzzing from the high of our orgasms.
He chuckled and helped me clasp my original bra into place. “To be clear, you could send me a selfie in scrubs and I’d still come running for you.”
I smiled, my stomach twisting along with my bra strap. I wouldn’t be in scrubs anymore. No reason to test that claim. Unless…I went back.
Once dressed, I took one last glance at us in the mirror.
Angel snuck his arms around my waist. “Are you checking us out, pidge?”
“N-no.” I glanced down and leaned into him. “M’kay, a little bit.”
“It’s okay. I only caught you because I was checking us out too.” He kissed the edge of my ear.
I giggled and rubbed his forearm, nuzzling our flushed cheeks together. We were a little messy, but cute.
“I love…d that,” I winced at my own slip.
He chuckled into my hair. “I could tell.”
Was I that obvious? Or was my naivete on full display?
“We need to get out there,” I said, hurrying him toward the door before I could say anything else too sentimental.
Didn’t he warn me I’d fall in love with him if we started having sex?
I’d fallen for him thanks to more than a few orgasms, though, even if they did release a lot of strong bonding chemicals in my brain.
There was something special about the way he affected me.
I loved the way we rose to each other’s challenges, the way we could play with and care for each other.
I was my best self around him. And his best side was shining for me.
Our first confession had to reflect that, even if I had to wait a bit longer to express it.
We slipped out of the dressing room with the cleaning supplies and discarded garments, my heart racing in my ears. No sign of Meg, yet. No waiting customers, although a few browsed the racks.
Had we gotten away with our tryst?
Angel kissed my cheek. “Bye, pidge. I love…d this.” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes and nudged him out the door. “I’ll see you later.”
He strutted back to his restaurant with an extra pep to his step. Hopefully, he hadn’t left anyone waiting on their food at the Cake Factory.
I smiled and shook my head.
No, he was too thoughtful for that. He always took care of people. Especially me.
I trashed the used wipes in the store’s dumpster. When I returned to the sales floor, Giselle darted at me, her billowing black sweater and sudden, imposing presence taking five years off my life.
“What are you doing off the floor? We have customers,” she seethed.
“There was a Code Lavender,” I said, nearly dropping the wipes cannister tucked under my arm.
“Is that why you stuffed our merchandise under the counter?” she gestured to the cashier’s desk, where I’d set the mesh heart bra among other items.
“I-I needed to make sure they were okay for resale,” I said.
“You want me to check?” She reached for the hangers, but I couldn’t have her touch the bra and find it warm from my body, so I flung myself in front of it.
“No!” I dusted the outfit. “I mean, no. I want to prove I can do things on my own.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “I need you to not just to do your job, but do it well.”
“I’ve been doing great, today,” I said, putting the mesh heart bra on the reserved rack despite my boss’s furrowed brow. “In fact, I think I should treat myself.”
I might not be a perfect saleswoman, but I was doing one thing well: I was finally taking care of myself. That helped me in everything else, including sales and relationships.