beneath his own skirt. Well, technically his toga.
“I remember reading somewhere that Cleopatra sailed down the Nile topless.” Eric’s breath teased her ear, lifting gooseflesh along her spine. “Don’t you think you should stay in character?”
“I think you’re making that up,” she said.
“I’m not. Some famous historian discovered Ms. Patra had a bit of exhibitionist in her. They’ve recently started calling her the Lady Godiva of the Nile.”
“Oh really? What was this famous historian’s name?”
He shook his head. “I’m sure you’ve never heard of him.”
“I’m sure you’re right, because he doesn’t exist.”
Eric unfastened the gold clasp between her breasts and slipped the small top from her shoulders. The garment dropped to the floor. Eric traced the cup of her bra with one finger.
“Well, this will never do. I know Cleo never wore a bra,” he said.
She lifted an eyebrow and met his gaze in the mirror. “Are you going to try to convince me that she was the first feminist?”
“No, nothing like that,” he said, grinning as he watched his finger glide over the soft swell of her breast in her reflection. “Bras hadn’t been invented yet.”
Rebekah snorted with laughter.
Eric fumbled at her back, and the hook of her bra popped loose. The white lace landed at her feet on the strangely patterned red and green plush carpet. The décor of the costume shop probably hadn’t been upgraded in at least thirty years, but the ambiance of the place didn’t matter. Rebekah was having fun.
She always had fun when she was with Eric.
His hands slid up her ribs to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples. Her body jerked as her pussy throbbed with appreciation of his attention.
She also always had sex when she was with Eric.
Eric rubbed both her nipples with his thumbs until the pink tips grew hard and achy beneath his persistent touch. Rebekah sighed and lifted her arms over her head to bury her fingers in his thick black hair. It felt like warm silk against her fingertips. Some people thought his unusual haircut was weird, but she found it delightful. If she felt like stroking soft short hair or burying her fingers in medium-length hair or wrapping long strands around her hand or playing with stiff spikes, she could. All on the same head. Fingers delighting in the medium-length strands at his nape, she urged Eric’s head down so he’d use that delicious mouth of his on her flesh. Eager to please, Eric trailed kisses along her shoulder as she watched him in the mirror.
“Mark Antony’s sole purpose in life was to stroke his queen’s nipples so they looked pert and inviting to all who faced her,” Eric continued with his fabricated history lesson.
“Is that so?” she asked skeptically.
“Why do you think she was able to bend so many all-powerful kings to her will?”
“Maybe because she was intelligent and cunning?”
“Nah,” Eric said, rolling her tender nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “She had a fantastic rack.”
He tugged hard at the taut buds until they slipped free of his fingers. Spikes of pleasure spiraled through Rebekah’s flesh. She moaned and squirmed against him.
“You might not have the right hair color to be an authentic Cleopatra, but you definitely have the perfect tits to bring kings to their knees.”
Rebekah chuckled at his compliment. “So what did Mark Antony do when his constant nipple stimulation made his queen’s pussy all hot and achy? Surely she found it to be incredibly distracting. It must be difficult ruling an empire when all you can think about it being filled with your lover’s hard, thick cock.”
Her lover’s hard, thick cock jumped against her lower back at her declaration, and he bent his knees to poke her in the ass with it.
“That’s where wearing a man-dress came in handy,” Eric said.
She giggled. “You mean a toga?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said: man-dress.” He nibbled at her ear. “Take your panties off, my queen, and I’ll fill that hot, achy pussy right up for you.”
She flushed at his suggestiveness. If she took her panties off, things were going to get out of hand in a hurry. “Don’t we have to be at the courthouse soon?” she asked.
“We have at least an hour to waste.”
“And you’re sure the owner of this shop isn’t watching us on the security camera right now?”
“I doubt he knows where the security camera is. Besides, we covered the lens, remember? And I locked the front door, so we have the entire place to ourselves.”
“I should have known you were up to something naughty when you did that.”
“I’m always up and always naughty.”
She glanced up at the pink T-shirt covering the camera lens in the corner of the dressing room and then reached under her skirt to slide her panties down. She kicked them off and squirmed when cool air bathed the hot and achy flesh between her thighs. Truthfully, she had no problem when things got out of hand in a hurry as long as the hands were Eric’s very capable ones.
When Eric slid his palms down from her breasts, she caught them and returned them to her chest.
“Now, Mark Antony,” she said, “you wouldn’t shirk on your sole purpose in life, would you? Keep those fingers where they belong.”
He plucked at her nipples, watching her in the mirror. “Maybe Mark Antony had two sole purposes. One pleasing nipples and another pleasing pussies.”
“I hope you mean pussy. I only have one.” And he would not be pleasing any but hers for the rest of their lives.
“And if I remember correctly it’s the best one,” he said. “But maybe you ought to show me so I can determine if it’s worth devoting my life entire to.”
“Not your life,” she said with a grin. “Just your cock.”
“And my lips and tongue and fingers too, I suppose.”
“And your eyes.”
Her man was very visual. Recently he’d become more hands-on, much to her delight, but he still liked to look and she still liked to show. Rebekah propped her foot on the wall next to the mirror and lifted her skirt so her naughty fiancé could see in the mirror’s reflection all that was usually hidden between her legs. She spread her lips with two fingers and used the one in between to massage her throbbing clit.
“What do you think? Is this worth your eternal devotion?”
“I don’t just love you for your fantastic pussy,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“I know.”
She slid her finger down her seam and dipped it into her slippery hole.
Eric groaned and rubbed his arousal against her ass. “But I do have a certain unmistakable attraction to it. Come for me, Rebekah,” he whispered.
“Here?”
“Please. I want to watch.”
“We’re going to get caught,” she whispered.
Even though Malachi seemed hard of hearing and was obviously a deep sleeper, Rebekah tended to get a bit vocal when she was being more daring than usual. And masturbating in a dressing room so her man could watch her get off was fairly daring. Even for her.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The entry door is locked. No one is here but us.”
“I still don’t know how you talked me into coming here,” she said.
“I talked you into coming? Here?” He grinned. “You never disappoint me, baby.”
She smacked his thigh. “If we spend our wedding night in jail, it will be all your fault.”
He chuckled. “You could always say no.”
“To you?” She grinned at him in the mirror. “You know you have me wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”
He curled his lip at her. “I’d rather have you wrapped around something else.”
She laughed. “You have me wrapped around that too.”
With her free hand, she reached behind her, flipped up the hem of his toga, and freed his cock from his boxer briefs. She grabbed his shaft in a firm
grip.
“On your knees, my handsome general. I don’t just want to come for you. I want to come on you.”
She’d have left him standing if he weren’t so damned tall, but he had more than an extra foot on her own five feet three inches, and she didn’t want his cock poking her in the back or even her ass. She wanted it between her legs. Right where it belonged.
She released his hard, veined shaft so he could sink to the floor behind her. She squatted over him and leaned her back against his chest. “Don’t let me fall,” she said.
He held her thighs and used his chest as leverage as she suspended her crotch over his cock. She positioned him so the shaft was nestled in her seam and his enlarged head pressed against her clit. His dick looked even more erotic nestled there than she had imagined it would. She massaged her clit with her fingers while at the same time teasing his cock’s sensitive head. In the mirror, Eric’s gaze was riveted to what she was doing between her legs, but she was watching his lean face. She loved that heavy-lidded enraptured look he got when he was turned on. And if his expression was any indication, he liked the way his cock looked buried in her folds as much as she did.
As her excitement built, she couldn’t stop her hips from rocking into her hand. The slight motion of her pussy rubbing his length was apparently driving Eric insane because he began to rock with her, sliding his length against her, his cockhead bumping against her fingertips with every forward motion. She flattened her palm against the underside of his cock and pressed it up against her sensitive clit, rocking harder to use his rim to get off. The tip of his cock appeared each time she rocked back and disappeared from view when she shifted forward.
“Oh,” she gasped. “That feels good.” Much better than her fingers had felt. The thick ridge of his shaft rubbing her from front to back made her crave deep penetration.
“Can’t take it,” Eric said, sucking air into his lungs. “Need. Inside.”
He moved her forward, and she lost her balance. She caught herself with her hands against the mirror and drew an excited breath through her teeth as Eric reached between them and slipped just inside her. He inched forward on his knees to find a better position and surged upward, burying himself deep. When she glanced down, she could see everything in the mirror. His thick, glistening shaft disappeared into her swollen pussy as he thrust into her, and then it reappeared as he withdrew. Watching him take her was almost as hot as hearing it, but not nearly as fantastic as feeling both her body stretch to accommodate him and the maddening friction that rubbed her just right deep inside.
“Can you see?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off the joining of their bodies. Off the way her pussy swallowed his rigid length. Off his flesh glistening with her fluids as he claimed her over and over again. She could also see her name inked on his lower belly, and seeing her brand on his skin made watching him fuck her even hotter.
Eric shifted his head slightly to the side, and his hot breath bathed the back of her shoulder as it came out in an excited gasp.
“I can now,” he said. “Fuck, baby. There is nothing more beautiful in this world than your pussy stuffed with my cock.”
Apparently being able to watch himself move inside her inspired all sorts of pleasing motions in his slim hips. Her body adjusted to him, her lips and folds stretching as he filled her and churned, pulled back and filled her again at a different angle. Her legs began to tremble from holding a crouched position for so long, but damn, it turned her on to watch him work her pussy into a frenzy. Her excitement built. And built. Higher. Higher.
“Oh God, Eric,” she groaned, rocking to meet his thrusts now. Wanting to come. “Oh please. Fuck me harder.”
His motions became more vigorous, making her tits bounce with each penetrating thrust.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She didn’t realize she was mewling with pleasure until Eric whispered, “Need a little help?”
She nodded, and he released her thigh to stroke her clit. She cried out at once, unable to hold in the sound, and came so hard, her fluids gushed down his cock and trickled onto his balls. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around him, driving him, coaxing him, sending him over the edge to join her in bliss.
Eric grunted. His cock twitched as he buried himself deep and let go. She saw his shaft jerk in the mirror and felt it move inside her.
Oh God.
Legs trembling, she forced herself to kneel. Eric slipped out of her—a pity—but she couldn’t hold that crouched pose for another second.
“Love you,” he murmured against the nape of her neck, remembering Mark Antony’s sole purpose in life and moving his hands to hold her breasts and stroke her sensitized nipples.
“Love you too.”
“You shouldn’t lie to me on our wedding day,” he said, nibbling her ear and making the back of her neck tingle.
“I didn’t lie to you,” she said, scowling. “I do love you!”
“Not that. You said you weren’t going to charm my snake until after the wedding. And, baby, my snake was fully charmed.”
She chuckled. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice full of as much sincerity as she could muster. “I promise I’ll never lie to you again.”
“Apology accepted.” He winked at her and gave her a squeeze. “Will you lie to me about kissing my asp too? Please.”
“You don’t expect me to go back on another promise, do you?” she teased. “I want you to be able to trust my word.”
“I do trust your word. You said there’d be snake charming and asp kissing after the wedding, and I know you’ll keep that promise.”
“The sooner we get married, the sooner I can keep my word.”
“Let’s go! Is this what you want to wear to our wedding?” he asked, slipping a hand up her thigh and into the skirt that was mostly around her waist. “It’s really sexy. Especially now that I’ve seen your O-face while you were wearing it.”
“Eric!”
“You have to wear the top too, though, because I don’t want anyone to see this fantastic rack but me. Kings be damned.”
She considered the costume in the mirror and decided she didn’t like it much after all.
“Now that I’ve been fucked by Mark Antony, I think I need something a little different to get married in. Something a little less revealing, perhaps.”
He chuckled and kissed the back of her shoulder. “Any ideas?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s go browse some more.”
“King Arthur and Guinevere? I can slide Excalibur into your stone. Pull it out. Slide it back in again. Repeat and repeat until the magic happens.”
Rebekah stifled a giggle. “I’m not familiar with my stone, King Arthur. Where’s that exactly?”
“I think it’s between your boobs.” He cupped them in both hands and pressed them together.
“Damn,” she said. “I was hoping my stone was a bit lower.”
She winked at him in the mirror and climbed to her feet, tugging out of his grip as she rose.
Rebekah found a packet of tissues and wet wipes in her purse—a necessity when dating Eric Sticks—and used them to clean herself up before they redressed and went back to the racks of costumes as if they hadn’t just been fucking in the dressing room.
Not that anyone but the two of them would have noticed. Malachi was still fast asleep.
Rebekah looked at Bride of Frankenstein costumes and one of an astronaut. She considered a Southern belle gown that would have made Scarlett O’Hara green with envy, but for some reason she kept returning to the white dress she’d first spotted. It was probably meant for the ghost of a heartbroken specter, but technically it was a wedding dress. Rebekah lifted it from the rack and held it against her body.
“Did you find something?” Eric asked, thumbing through a rack of mobster attire.
“Bride costume,” Rebekah said, showing him the mass of lace and frills she couldn’t help but gravitate toward again and again.
“I guess that’s fitting,” he said. “But not terribly creative.”
She hung the dress back on the rack and tried to find something more creative. If he thought she was going to get married in one of her usual, naughty costumes with her tits and ass more bare than covered, he had another think coming. Her mother would be at the ceremony as Rebekah’s witness. And for once Rebekah didn’t want to stir things up with the woman.
Rebekah slid hangers down the rack one at a time as she looked at flapper dresses and regency gowns, ballerina tutus and army
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