I take a deep breath and pull them on, sliding them up and over my white thong. It's a little difficult at first because they're so tight, but once I get them into place, they settle against my skin like a glove.
I turn back and forth in front of the mirror, examining the round curve of my ass, the long lines of my legs. Not too shabby. I feel like a different person from the boring frump who stares in the mirror every morning and wonders if anyone will notice her. Maybe this is good for me? Trying all this stuff on? Not that I would ever wear it in public, but if I want to succeed in politics I have to learn to stand out a little more. Nothing outrageous, just … more visible.
I pull on my tank top next and then grab the jacket, slipping my arms into the sleeves and zipping it up tight. I usually have a problem finding jackets that'll fit across my breasts. This one does the trick with no pulling or tugging in the shoulders or chest. What the hell, Royal? Maybe the guy's screwed so many women, he can just look at them and guess their size?
My fingers trace the asymmetrical zipper from my right shoulder down to the center of the jacket, sliding across the supple black leather and touching the quilted accents on the side panels. I'm engulfed in the smell of leather and oil, my mind making that now seemingly easy jump back to Royal.
He must've spent a fortune on all this stuff.
I push that thought aside and grab my socks, sitting down on the edge of the bed and slipping my feet into the leather boots—another perfect fit. They sit at mid-calf, five buckles climbing up the side, the metal clips a perfect match to the stamped metal heel plate. When I move, the single zipper on the side clinks.
A giddy excitement bubbles up in my belly, that same feeling I used to get as a little girl when I played dress up. It never gets old, does it?
Without skipping a beat, I slip into the bathroom and smear some eyeliner around my eyes, splashing on some colored shadow and doing my best to imitate the look that that girl, Mia, had. Red, red lips and a splash of pink on the cheeks.
When I lean back and look at myself, I'm virtually unrecognizable.
“Oh my God.” I look this way and that, admiring the sudden transformation from politician to … biker chick. When I'm satisfied with the makeup, I move back into my room and grab my iPod, firing up Spotify and starting Rita Ora's “How We Do”.
As the music starts, I dance my way back to the full-length mirror and thank God for inventing blinds. If anybody saw me right now … I think I might die from embarrassment.
“What do you think, love?” I ask my reflection, imitating Royal's sexy accent as I stare at myself in the mirror. “How do I look now?” I blow a kiss at the mirror. “Do you want me, Royal? Do you? Do you want to fuck me over your big sexy motorcycle?”
“Fucking hell, Pint-Size, baby, when the hell did you learn to read minds?”
I scream and spin, slamming my thighs into my dresser and losing my balance until I end up sitting on top of it.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?!” I scream over Rita's bouncy vocals.
Royal just grins at me and leans against my doorjamb, sexy as hell in leather pants and boots that are strangely similar to mine.
“I knocked, but you didn't answer,” he supplies with a shrug.
“So you just walked in?” I scream as the song winds down and “I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry starts playing. The music … it isn't helping. Just saying.
“Oh, kinky, I like it,” Royal drawls as he leans against the wall and grins at me. “I've always adored girl on girl myself.”
“Get the hell out of my house,” I say, standing up and giving him my best no-nonsense glare. “I could call the cops on you.”
“Do it and the club will fall down on you so hard, you'll never dig yourself out.” He says that like it's no big deal, not even a threat, just plain and simple fact. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to see if you'd changed your mind. Glad I did.”
“Changed my mind?” I echo as his eyes rove over me and the bulge in his pants becomes impossible to ignore. I've got him right now; he's completely and utterly hooked. I pretend like that thought means nothing to me. At the same time, I can't stop watching him watching me, eating me up like a starving wolf gulping down its prey. Okay, that's a little creepy. But I like it. I really, really do. “I haven't changed my mind about anything,” I say as Royal steps into my bedroom—my bedroom—and starts walking towards me.
I wish I could back up, run, do anything but just stand there.
When he comes up to me, towering above my tiny frame with a lusty smile on his face, my heart nearly breaks free from my ribs and goes skidding across the floor.