Page 187 of The Monster and the Masochist

“There. Feel better?” she hummed, and I nodded, curling my toes happily in her shoes.

Then I watched–completely enthralled–as she slipped on my nude Christian Louboutin’s.

With shocking ease and grace, she stood before me in my four-inch heels, looking like a gender fluid model ready to strut down a runway.

I swallowed, feeling a little taken aback by how hot I thought she was in feminine footwear, and a tendril of heat curled low in my gut.

We were both relatively tall. Last I checked, I was 5’7” without heels, but Theo was definitely pushing six feet. With the red bottoms, she towered over me, and another wave of heat rushed through me as she curled a finger under my chin and leaned down to brush a tender kiss across my lips.

“Let’s go home, princess. I want to make you come all over my face before we go to bed.”

My cheeks flushed at Theo’s sly grin, and my abdomen pooled with heat. I was so distracted by the visual of how good she would look between my thighs that I almost missed the fact that she’d called the condo home.

It was the first time she’d ever done that, and suddenly, the lust I was feeling washed away, only to be replaced by an even stronger feeling.

A feeling I was starting to become more familiar with.

A feeling I was pretty sure was love.

She wanted to go home.

She wanted to go to our home…

Fuck…

I nodded dumbly, and she tilted her head toward the bathroom that was stationed near the main hall of the venue.

“Go to the bathroom. I’ll order us a car.”

I nodded, grinning like the love-sick fool I was.

“Ok. I’ll be back in five.”

“Take your time.” She smiled at me, and I hurried away, already excited to get back so I could watch her strut her sexy ass out the doors in my shoes.

Alexa Play: Do Your Worst by Harves

Iknew I was playing with fire by offering to wear Cassandra’s heels so she could go to the bathroom, but, surprisingly, I seemed to be doing okay.

Her shoes were uncomfortable as fuck, and I still didn’t understand why feminine people liked to squeeze their feet into these modern-day torture devices, but that’s all it was. Physical discomfort.

Pain I could handle.

As long as Samwell’s phantom didn’t pop up and try to drag me back into that horrible office, I would be fine.

And so far, he seemed to be leaving me alone.

There was no trace of him, and I felt safe standing in the brightly lit, busy lobby of The Antoinette.

Maybe it was the consent of it all.

I’d offered to wear the shoes. It had been my decision to put them on, and the look of relief on Cassandra’s face when she’d slipped into my loafers had made the risk of provoking a flashback so worth it.

I smiled to myself as I flipped open the Uber app to call us a car.

Five minutes away.

Nice.