LITMIR.BIZ

      Tea Dresses

      Sommer Marsden

      The bell made me look up. I put my chopsticks in my soup bowl and straightened up to try and peek. It was hard to see a clear way from the counter to the front door with all the stock I’d just bought.

      Maybe it was best I didn’t see him coming. The look of him slammed me like a fist wrapped in cotton.

      ‘I’m looking for a dress.’

      ‘You’d look much better in a vintage suit, if you don’t mind me saying,’ I teased.

      I was shocked I got even that out. He was tall and broad and looked very much a thug from the 1920s. His dark hair so close-cut it almost looked like he was bald on first glance. He had dark-brown eyes – so fucking dark you couldn’t distinguish the pupil from the iris – and they seemed to see right down into the bones and meat of me.

      But he smiled and, when he twisted his mouth that way, something in me twisted.

      Jesus.

      ‘I think you’re right. But the dress isn’t for me. It’s for this girl I’m seeing. For a party my boss’s wife is throwing. A tea party.’ He wrinkled his nose when he said it and I laughed.

      My ears picked up two things. The way he said ‘this girl’ meant she wasn’t a serious thing. He didn’t say ‘my girlfriend’ or ‘my fiancée’ or ‘the woman I’m dating’. It was way more casual than that, and that sent a shiver up my spine like a tiny piece of ice being dragged along my skin.

      ‘I see. You sound very excited about this tea party.’

      ‘I’d rather be dipped in shit. Or boiled in oil.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘Mack.’

      ‘Gretchen. And I think I have just the thing. Believe it or not, today of all days, a woman brought in a whole case of clothes from her great-grandmother’s attic. At least three of them are tea dresses.’

      ‘No shit,’ he said. He spoke like a thug too. But those eyes were intelligent and underneath the beleaguered I-am-annoyed gaze … soft. Kind.

      I imagined his hands on me, I couldn’t help it. And, when I let myself go there, a slick rush of fluid slipped free of me, staining my panties with my sudden and intense interest.

      I sucked in a shuddery breath. ‘No shit. Can I get them out for you?’

      That’s when he really stopped to look at me. His dark gaze dragging from my chocolate-coloured bob cut to my sweetheart-neckline sweater to my pencil skirt. And then back up again.

      Heat and lust rushed colour to my cheeks and he didn’t miss it. Not for a second. ‘Yeah. Get them out for me, Gretch. If you will.’

      He planted his meaty hands on my spotless glass counter. I’d just washed it. But I didn’t mind. I was too busy trying to breathe without panting like a dog.

      ‘Be right back.’

      I hurried off. When had my shop gotten so close? So tiny? There didn’t seem to be enough air in the place for me and Mack. But I would make do. I would have to.

      I pulled the first dress from the garment bag. A butter-yellow frock with crinoline beneath the skirt. Low-cut without being slutty, floaty without being too much of a princess dress. I put my hair up … down … up and then down again. Letting it float around my face as I tried to steady my breathing.

      ‘What the fuck,’ I sighed and nixed the panties, leaving them in a heap on the floor in the corner of the dressing room. When I exited, I pushed my feet into taupe-coloured heels someone had brought in on consignment.

      ‘All in,’ I said and, as I passed the front door, I quietly flipped the sign to CLOSED and locked the door by pressing the button on the knob.

      I rounded the corner to find him lounging in my chair behind the counter like he owned the joint. The cocky nature of his demeanour made me squirm beneath the dress. I wanted him. There was no denying what my body was saying.

      ‘Nice,’ he grunted. And, as if Mack could read my thoughts or feel the lust coming off of me, he crooked a finger at me and said, ‘Come here. Give us a close-up look.’

      I stepped to him as if we’d done this a thousand times before instead of having just met. He ran a thick finger over the smooth embroidered skirt of the dress. I felt each stroke he left on the fabric as if he’d touched me. I licked my lips and waited.

      ‘I like the cut. How it shows off your legs. Of course, your legs are better than hers.’ With that, his hand cupped the back of my knee and I felt my legs go weak.

      ‘Nice calves,’ he went on, moving just a bit so his reach allowed him to run his cupped palm from the back of my knee down the hard muscle of my calves.

      Inside me, odd things were happening. A tingling buzz had taken up residence in my tummy and my pussy constricted eagerly around nothing at all. But it was all too easy to picture it growing tight around his thrusting cock. I’d lay odds his cock was thick and sturdy like his fingers.

      ‘But it’s a tiny bit too short,’ Mack grumbled. ‘Because I can do this.’ His hand surged up the back of my thigh, damn near buckling my legs, and found my right buttock. That hand felt as big as a catcher’s mitt warmed in the sun.

      I sighed and he gave me a crooked grin. Out of nowhere he pulled his hand free of my ass and then smacked it back down again, fast and hard. I jumped and my muscles went stiff with shock.

      ‘You said there were more?’

      I nodded, not trusting my voice or my perpetually thumping cunt at this point. If I moved, I thought I might come. I waited.

      ‘I want to see another one. That OK with you?’

      His hand was once again resting nonchalantly on my calf and my muscles tingled and twitched. Only his thumb was moving in restless little sweeps along my skin. I nodded.

      ‘Then let’s see one. My favourite colour is green,’ he said. ‘Just an FYI.’

      I hurried away, fearful my pussy was so wet I’d leave marks on the dress. Fearful that he could hear my heart. Fearful that he could smell my lust on the air. And entirely turned on.

      I wrestled free of the butter-yellow dress and

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