22
Brandon had already been eager to spend more time with Isabella, but this was turning out even better than he’d imagined.
They had been wandering through the shops for a while now, talking about life while she picked out clothes to try on.
Brandon discovered that Amanda and Isabella had known each other since they were kids.
Their parents were old friends who eventually partnered up in business, drawing the two girls even closer.
Laura, the third member of their circle, didn’t come from extreme wealth, but the three of them had bonded in college, which secured Laura a top management role at the club.
Isabella grabbed another skirt, tossing it over the stack already draped across her arm. “Come on, let’s hit the dressing room.”
That was the best part.
Isabella slipped into the fitting room hallway and pulled the door almost shut, leaving just a narrow slit so he could watch.
Brandon stood outside, peeking in as she undressed.
She did it deliberately, holding his gaze in the mirror’s reflection as her fingers traced over her body, flaunting every curve.
Soon she was down to just her bra and panties.
She even let one shoulder strap fall, teasing the swell of her breast, before wagging a finger in gentle reprimand and slipping into the first piece.
A moment later, she pushed the door open and gave him a twirl.
“What do you think?”
“Gorgeous, Mistress.”
“But?”
“How did you know there was a ‘but’?”
“I just know. It’s written all over your face.”
Brandon checked to make sure no sales associates were lingering nearby, stepping in close to keep his voice low.
“I think I’d like you best in nothing at all…”
Isabella let out a wicked little giggle and ducked back inside, leaving the door cracked just as before.
It went on like that across two more boutiques, the shopping bags multiplying in Brandon’s arms. With every piece she tried on, she revealed a little more of herself, ramping up the torment.
“How about this skirt?” It was microscopic, and Brandon quickly realized Isabella wasn’t wearing her panties anymore.
“Spin for me again.” She took her sweet time, stringing him along. “Please, Mistress.”
Isabella spun, ending with her back to him as she arched her lower back and pushed her ass out.
Stepping into the stall, she hitched up the hem of the micro-skirt, revealing the curve of her hips, the gap between her toned thighs, and the crisp bikini tan line that led his eyes straight toward—and then she let it drop.
“That’s just cruel.”
“Of course it is,” Isabella said with a smirk. She slipped back into her own clothes, but left her panties off.
“Come on, I need some gym gear now. Time to start working out at the club again.”
“You keep a body like that without working out?”
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” She laughed, poking his ribs with one finger while his hands remained trapped under the weight of the bags.
“Of course it is. I mean, look at you... you’re a living, breathing Greek goddess standing right next to me.”
“My relationship with the gym is complicated. It comes and goes. But there’s tennis, swimming.
I prefer sports anyway.” She pointed toward one of the last shops down the corridor.
It was a massive sporting goods store, practically empty.
Only two employees were on the floor: a woman behind the register wrestling with the computer, and a guy leaning on his elbows across the counter, blatantly trying to flirt with her and striking out hard.
“Perfect. Come on, darling.”
They went through the same routine, Isabella picking out outfits to try on, though this time she kept a sharper eye on the employees.
When she finally made her selection, she gave Brandon’s arm a gentle yank.
“You know, I didn’t pile all these bags into your arms just because I wanted a shopping spree. ”
“Oh no?”
“Nope. I mean, shopping is always fun, but when I planned this evening, this is exactly how I pictured you: standing outside my fitting room, hands completely full.”
She stepped into the stall at the very end of the hall. She didn’t even bother closing the door.
“And what’s the logic behind that?”
“Besides teasing you from store to store and watching that desperate look on your face, like you’d pin me against the wall if we weren’t in public? By the way, I loved every single time you bit your lip.”
Heat rose to Brandon’s face. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.
Isabella undressed, facing him head-on. Positioned right in the hallway, Brandon had a clear vantage point: he could keep watch on the store behind him while getting an unobstructed view of the brunette putting on a show.
“This way, you’re forced to stand right there, weighed down with bags, completely powerless to touch me.
” Isabella trailed her hands along her skin, gliding them up and down her soft, bare curves.
She cupped her breasts, squeezing them together.
“My brand of torture is far more subtle than Amanda’s.
What do you think? Do you like it when I do this? ”
An hour of relentless teasing had already stoked a roaring fire deep inside him. Her sultry purr and the sight of her caressing herself poured pure gasoline on the flames.
Still in her heels, Isabella propped one foot on the bench, spreading her legs wide.
She traced a finger down her hip, skirting the contour of her thigh until she reached the junction between her legs.
Using her fingertips, she spread her folds wide, exposing her wet, glistening pink pussy for Brandon to see.
“Just think of it as me helping you out, darling.”
“Doesn’t feel much like help.”
“Come on, we’re keeping you on orgasm denial. Not being allowed to touch yourself while I put on a show for you is helping.”
The brunette slid a single finger inside herself, rocking it in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Then she withdrew it and brought it to her lips, licking it clean with a slow flick of her tongue—a filthy, unmistakable show for Brandon.
Reaching back down between her legs, she began to stroke herself in earnest. Their gaze stayed locked; Brandon barely dared to blink. He watched her brows arch in pure pleasure as a soft whimper slipped past her lips, quickly muffled by her free hand.
Brandon shifted uncomfortably, his cock throbbing fiercely against the denim of his jeans. He shuffled his feet, desperately trying to mask just how hard he was.
Isabella bit her lip and began to toy with one breast, pinching her nipple between her fingers and rolling it in tight circles—a wickedly sharp tease that accelerated her ascent toward the edge.
The frantic rhythm between her thighs quickened, and her orgasm tore through her.
Brandon instinctively reached out to steady her as her thighs buckled in sudden spasms, but she managed to brace against the bench and sink down onto the wood.
Her chest heaved, her pulse visibly hammering beneath her skin. A sheen of sweat glistened along her brow, and her inner thighs were slick from her release.
She tried to speak, but her breath caught in a stammer. Giving up, she simply looked up and flashed him a wicked grin.
“You’re right,” Brandon said, the heat burning hot and relentless through his veins. He throbbed with unspent ache, starving for the release he was strictly forbidden from having. “I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands off you.”