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“Or wanted.”
“You wuv ‘er,” Leeza mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste.
“Only you, lásko.” Havel kissed her and went into the bedroom to change. He was already gone by the time Leeza emerged from the washroom.
Leeza spent the day shopping, then as the afternoon grew late, she took her time getting ready for her night out. She realized she was really excited for both her night out and for the wedding, and thought how far she and Havel had come since the rocky start of their reunion.
After she dressed, she made herself a quick snack, then decided to touch up her make-up. Havel still wasn't home, which was a good thing.
She didn't need him seeing her in her party outfit until she was surrounded by her lady posse. Then, if he went caveman on her, he’d have to go through a fierce group of women to get to her.
Humming to herself, she reapplied her lipstick and headed back into the bedroom. It was getting dark out and she had to feel her way to the door.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Havel’s deep voice came from right next to her.
Leeza jumped and squinted as light flooded the room.
Havel had his hand on the light switch, his thick brows drawn low.
“When did you get home?”
"Never mind that. I asked you a question. What the fuck are you wearing?"
“Ummm… a dress?”
“That’s not a dress,” he snarled, grabbing her arm and swinging her into the room before slamming the door shut. He stalked her across the floor as she backed away from him, his expression falling somewhere between hungry predator and pissed-off prom dad.
Leeza glanced sideways at herself in the standing mirror. It was definitely a dress, just much less of one that she might normally wear. When she was out shopping with her sister, she’d tried to pick something more conservative that wouldn’t draw unnecessary attention, but Saskia had crushed that idea.
She’d forced her older sister into a dressing room and thrown every colour, fabric, and style in with Leeza until they’d settled on this one. It was stunning. Something Leeza had always wished she could wear but had never been brave enough to try. Saskia had told her that she would only get to be a divorcee for a few more days and that she needed to get her cougar on.
The backless gold halter dress draped over Leeza like a waterfall, scooping low over her cleavage and landing high on her thighs. She’d paired it with four-inch gold sandals with straps that wound up her calves.
“One fucking inch,” Havel growled, pulling Leeza around until she stood in front of the standup mirror with him at her back. He gripped the edge of her skirt and for a breathless second she thought he was going to tear it away from her. Instead, he raised the dress an inch, baring her thigh.
Her mouth went dry with anticipation as he moved his hand around the back of the dress, lifting it over her ass and trailing his finger down the tiny strap of her G-string.
He groaned, dragging her closer and thrusting his cock against into her ass, making her feel his erection, showing her what her skimpy dress was doing to him.
He dug a hand into the top of her gown, taking a handful of her soft breast and squeezing. Leeza moaned as she tipped her head back into his shoulder.
“No fucking bra.” His deep voice held disapproval, but lust was winning out as his hot gaze took in every inch of her in the mirror. She watched him grope her, running his hands down her body, lifting her dress, sliding his fingers into her panties. “You’re outta your fucking mind if you think I’m letting you walk out of here in this.”
She held her breath as he dipped a finger into her pussy, pressing it deep, pumping it until she thrust her hips in response.
“You like that?” he breathed against her ear, wrapping his arm around her neck and anchoring her to his chest.
“Make me come, Havel.” She met his gaze in the mirror, her bold words stoking the fire in his golden eyes.
“You’re speaking my language, sweetheart.” He lifted her skirt higher, pushing the crotch of her panties aside and pressing another finger inside her, pumping until she was whimpering and leaning on him for support. “Beg me for it. Tell me how bad you want to soak my hand.”
“I want it so bad,” she breathed, her eyes locked on his hand, the tattoos on his knuckles flashing in the mirror as he fucked her.
“Do it,” he growled in her ear. “Come for me, baby.”
“I can’t!” she gasped.
“You can,” he ordered her. “Let go and give me your weight. I’ve got you.”
