And pop, they do.
By five o’clock, my hair and makeup are finished, and I remove my dress from its bag on the back of Owen’s door. Before I move away from the door, I hear shuffling from the other side and imagine Owen pacing about nervously. I can just picture him in his black tux, running his long fingers through his unruly coppery-blond hair, and I smile, turning away to start getting dressed.
I discard my shorts and tank top to the end of the bed and pull on the new underwear and bra I bought. Then I step into the dress and zip it up. Once my boobs are where they should be, I turn back to the full-length mirror that hangs on the inside of Owen’s closet door and smile so wide and genuinely, my eyes shine.
When I’d tried the dress on in the shop, I’d fallen in love with it, but I knew that having my hair and makeup done would complete the look…and I was right.
With my hair spilling over my shoulder, all loose curls and shine, and my smoky eyes and deep red lips, the dress looks even more incredible. It hugs my body better than anything I’d ever worn before, and I find myself even more excited to show Owen.
Before I exit the bedroom, I grab my mask from the box on the bed and hold it up to my face. I don’t tie it in place just yet, because I’m waiting until we get to the party, but I love the finished look, and the smoky black and purple eye makeup only enhances the mask.
More than happy with the finished result, I pull open Owen’s door to find him just a few feet away, pacing as I’d suspected. He looks even better than I’d imagined, all dressed up in a sleek black tux, and it’s obvious that he’s put a little more effort into taming his hair, but it still has a mind of its own. I prefer it this way, though.
He must catch a glimpse of me in his periphery, because he stops the minute I step into the hall, and his eyes sweep over me from head to toe before they meet mine. I fidget with my mask nervously as I await his reaction. He’s not giving much away, but he’s speechless…
That must be a good sign. Right?
20. Masquerade
I’m uncertain how I refrain from rushing down the hall and pulling Amelia into my arms, but I do. Never in a million years would I have imagined the dress she’d picked out to be as exquisite as it is. It fits her body perfectly, hugging every single curve down to her knees where it flares out. Its strapless neckline shows off her collarbones, and I find myself licking my lips as the desire to trail my tongue along them grows by the second.
My eyes continue to scan the length of her body, taking in how ample her cleavage looks and recalling with perfect clarity what her tits feel like in my hands. My cock begins to thicken in my pants, and I take a small step toward her, my hunger for her suddenly much more important to me than my appearance at this party.
“You like?” she asks softly, standing up on her tiptoes and doing a little twirl.
My knees fail me, and I stumble slightly when I see how low the back dips, exposing the lean length of her spine. I reach out, the backs of my fingers brushing the smooth skin of her shoulder blade before moving up her neck. A few curly wisps of her hair tickle my fingers, and I watch as goosebumps arise on her neck and shoulders.
She shudders, turning around with a bright smile on her face, and I cup her face in my hand. “You look absolutely stunning, Amelia.”
Her cheeks deepen in hue as she drops her eyes between us and grips my tie firmly in one hand. “Well, you clean up pretty well, yourself, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
My hands move up and down her bare arms as she lifts her gaze to mine. Her eyes are bright and full of desire as I continue trailing my fingers over every inch of bare skin. Naturally, this evokes a similar feeling in me, and it seems to be growing exponentially. I suddenly find myself not wanting to go to the party in favor of staying home and having my way with her.
This seems to be the direction my brain takes a lot lately. Not that I’m complaining.
Amelia’s bright red lips turn up into a coy smile, her right eyebrow arching mischievously, and I lean in to kiss her, making peace with the fact that we’ll be a little late for the party. Her breath shudders as my lips brush hers, and just as I’m about to close the infinitesimal gap between us, my phone rings. It’s not just any ring tone, though, it’s the one that signals that someone is down at the front door.
Slightly frustrated that we’ve been interrupted, I release a breathy laugh and shake my head. “The car’s here,” I announce, my voice low and raspy.
Amelia pops up on her toes and kisses me chastely. “Well, that’s probably for the best. I’d hate to have to redo my hair and all,” she whispers, foreseeing how the next hour or two probably would have played out. “Besides, there’ll be plenty of time after the party to…play.”