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A whimper escapes my lips at her words, images of exactly that flashing through my mind. Before I can second guess it, I’m spinning in her arms and crushing my mouth against hers in a searing kiss.
Lyssa shoves me against the wall, pinning my wrists above my head. “When Hadria and Aurora got together,” she murmurs, “Hadria took her shopping. They spent hours finding the perfect dress to distract Hadria’s brother Nero.” She leans back, looking me up and down with unashamed desire. “At the time, I thought it was a waste of time. But boy oh boy, I get it now.”
I tilt my head, looking up at her through my lashes. “Is that your way of telling me I look hot?”
Lyssa pulls me off the wall only to turn me and push me against the mirror so that I’m eye-to-eye with myself, her hands sliding over my belly, my ribcage, my breasts. “No,” she murmurs, her lips brushing my ear. “This is my way of telling you that you look hot.”
One of her hands drops to grab the skirt and hikes it up, while the other yanks my panties down, leaving me exposed and aching for her. I press my ass back into her crotch, moaning softly. She encourages it as I grind back against her, my pussy already tingling, aching for her touch. At last her fingers slide between my legs and she gives an appreciative chuckle. “So wet for me already. I want you to watch yourself while you come. See how gorgeous you are.”
“Oh, fuck,” I whimper, writhing against her as her skilled fingers tease and glide. Each brush of her fingertips against my clit makes me want this more. “But if they come in?—”
“If they come in, then I’ll make them stand there and watch along,” she murmurs, eyes dark with lust. “Because I wouldn’t want to deprive them of such a beautiful sight.” Her free hand slides into the loose top now, pinching at my nipple. “Good girl,” she coos as I groan. “See how pretty you look?”
Oh, God—her words, combined with her fingers, and the idea of having those women outside file in and watch as Lyssa has her oh-so-wicked way with me?—
My eyes meet my own in the mirror, and I’m shocked by the wanton expression on my face. My lips are swollen from biting at them to keep quiet, cheeks flushed, and there’s no doubt about exactly how much I’m enjoying this.
“I think you might be a bit of an exhibitionist, Scar,” Lyssa murmurs. “You get wetter any time I mention people watching me play with this hot little pussy of yours.”
That’s it. I’m right there on the edge with her dirty talk, my eyes going wide in the mirror as I realize there’s no stopping what’s about to happen. “Lyssa?—”
“That’s it, baby. Show me exactly how much you like it.”
I close my eyes instinctively, but her hand shoots away from my nipple and grabs my face, making me watch myself, watch her as she watches me watching myself…
“Still,” she whispers in my ear. “I gotta be honest. I like knowing I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. So let’s make sure to keep things quiet.” She slides her hand over my mouth, not hard, but enough to give me that last little erotic jolt that I need. It hits me hard enough that my knees go weak, and I feel like Lyssa’s hand in my cunt is both the only thing holding me up and the one thing that’s making me collapse. I grind frantically into her palm and watch myself come for her, my tits shuddering as I writhe and shake in her hold.
Sometime later, we emerge in our new clothes—the red dress and Lyssa’s suit—and after paying for them, we head back out to the taxi dressed up for a night on the town—including, for me, the high heels the women in the store recommended.
Not stilettos. They suggested them, but I turned them down fast. Lyssa had a wry look on her face, but she said nothing.
As far as I’m concerned, my stiletto days are over—both knives and shoes. These heels I’m wearing will be tricky enough to fight in, but Lyssa assures me there will be no fighting tonight.
“So, uh, what’s the plan when we get to this Valentino’s place?” I ask, doing my best not to stare too overtly at how good she looks in the suit. She’s wearing the buttoned jacket over nothing at all, having deemed the shirt suggestions at the store “too frou-frou.” it’s hard to keep my eyes on her face instead of her chest. “I’m guessing we can’t just waltz in without a reservation?”
Lyssa shoots me a look, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “You wound me, Scarlett. Don’t you know who I am?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t deny the little thrill I get from her complete confidence. She’s a force of nature, striking awe and fear wherever she goes. The Wolf.
Still, I can’t help teasing her a little. “Is that what you’re going to say to the host? ‘Don’t you know who I am?’“
“Maître d’,” she corrects me. “And I won’t have to. Getting in won’t be an issue. Getting information…now that’s the tricky part.”
True to her word, when we enter the restaurant, the staff blanches visibly at the sight of Lyssa coming through the doors. We’re immediately ushered to a private table in the back, discreetly placed with our backs to the wall—no doubt for security.
“Would you ladies care to start with something from the bar?” the maître d’ asks once we’re seated, his tone completely deferential towards Lyssa.
“Water,” Lyssa replies crisply. “Sparkling,” she adds, as though giving in to luxury.
“Just sparkling water for me too, thanks.”
The maître d’ nods and scurries off, leaving Lyssa and me alone in the hushed, luxurious surroundings. I lean in a bit, keeping my voice low.
“So much for not attracting any attention,” I murmur, watching as the staff continues to sneak glances our way. “I feel like we’ve got a goddamn spotlight on us.”
“Let’s use it to our advantage, shall we?” Lyssa says with a casual shrug, utterly unfazed.
“What do you mean?”
