Thresholds

by Kate Canterbary

  "I'm going in." Sam moved past us and climbed the stairs. "And let's try to be as normal as possible today."

  Matt clapped me on the back, nodding. "He's talking to you."

  "I can't see why," I replied as I trailed them up the steps.

  "Because you're scowling and you look like you want to rip the doors off the hinges," Sam said.

  "And I wouldn't be surprised if you asked a saleswoman her cup size," Matt added.

  "I would never do that," I hissed as we stepped inside.

  "I'm not getting involved in that debate," Sam murmured. He held up his hands, demanding our attention. "Here's the plan. We're going to divide and conquer without crossing swords. No need to talk or make eye contact."

  "I had no idea that you're both raving lunatics," Matt murmured. "Or whichever brand of psychosis this is."

  Sam ignored him and barreled on. "Patrick, you're staying in the front section with the robes and scarves. You're going to ease in, and work your way up to the good stuff."

  "I'm not even close to drunk enough for this," I said.

  This time, Sam ignored me as he continued with his game plan. "Matt is going to start over there, at that table with all the panties."

  "I was really hoping to die before hearing either of you utter the word panties," I said. "I'm running out of goals over here, guys."

  "Panties," Sam repeated. "While you two go to your corners, I'm going to the back wall to look at—at—at—my wife picking out a black leather corset."

  I followed Sam's gaze, but it wasn't the woman wearing the bright blue dress with tiny silver stars who caught my attention. It was the mass of dark, curly hair beside her. "My fiancée seems to favor the red satin variety."

  "Do you think the dressing rooms are reasonably private?" Sam asked. "I don't need a soundproof room or anything. Just a closed door."

  I pointed at the ceiling in a vague gesture toward the late eighties Sade song pounding from the speakers. "Yes."

  "We've made it weird." Matt stepped between us. "I'm going to look at those panties now," he said, "and only the panties. I'm gonna keep my head down and I'm probably gonna look like a perv since I'll be fondling underwear with single-minded focus but I don't want to see anything else until we're done. Someone holler when it's time to leave."

  * * *

  I went after Andy without a single idea of what I'd say or do once I had her attention. And I didn't care who was watching. I followed her around the corner and down a shadowy corridor lined with large oil paintings. They were filthy, but in the most tastefully depraved way.

  She knew I was a few steps behind. The grin she tossed over her shoulder was proof of it. That, and she didn't close the door when she stepped into the last dressing room.

  "Hello there," she said when I closed the door. I kept my hand pressed there. I wasn't sure whether I was holding it shut or holding myself steady. "We don't meet like this often enough."

  Drawing a breath to cool the tension pumping through my body, I pushed away from the door and leaned back against the wall. "I thought you were shopping for kitchenware."

  Andy turned her attention to arranging her items on the rack, shuffling the bras, panties, and other lacy bits that defied naming conventions. The red corset that started all of this. She selected a nothing of lace that would meet with certain death under my hands and studied it carefully. "I can use this in the kitchen," she said.

  Her gaze was easy, as if we were standing in the middle of a paint store and comparing shades of gray rather than a velvet-draped sin emporium.

  She looked up at me then—finally—and the smile tugging at her lips was nothing short of devious. I lunged for her, batting the lacy fire starter out of her grip and seizing her hips. "If you think you're wearing that in the kitchen, you're not going to get much cooking done."

  Her fingers scraped up my neck and into my hair, forcing a shiver from her touch. She knew how to bring me to heel, and I loved it. It wasn't even funny how much this woman owned me. How much I wanted her to own me.

  I want to be married to you.

  I poured those words into fast, frantic kisses, but it wasn't enough. With my hands on her tight little ass, I boosted her up and flattened her against the wall. Hangers clattered to the floor and I heard the chandelier rattling above us, but none of that stopped me from grinding into her.

  "Unzip me," I ordered between kisses. "Take my cock out."

  As Andy palmed my length, a knock sounded at the door. "Hello in there! It's Heather. What can I do for you? How is everything fitting? Is there anything I can grab for you? Different sizes or colors?"

  “Not a word out of you,” Andy whispered. She slapped a hand over my lips as I started to respond. "I'm all set for now, Heather."

  "Okay," she said slowly. "I thought I heard you call for me but I'll just leave you to it."

  That earned me a pointed glare. I shrugged. I couldn't help it.

  "Thanks, Heather," she replied.

  Andy stared at the door, her hand still covering my mouth and my erection throbbing for her attention, and listened while Heather knocked on several other doors. Once her voice faded away, I rocked between Andy's legs again and squeezed her ass.

  "Someone's feeling bold today," she murmured.

  "You're teasing me with talk of cooking in four inches of lace," I replied. "Not sure how you expected me to respond to that."

  "I'd planned on teasing you with it on Christmas morning, but you can't beg, stalk, and choose."

  "I'm certain that I can," I said, nipping at her neck.

  She planted a chaste kiss on my jaw and tipped her head to the side. "Since you're here, you can sit right over there"—I followed her gaze to the velvet slipper chair in the corner—"and see the pieces I'm considering."

  I thrust against her again and drew a breathy moan from her lips. "I'd rather see them from right here."

  Her gaze cooled and she aimed that same steel-spined, take-neither-prisoners-nor-shit look that she reserved for errant contractors at me. "You can sit over there or you can leave."

  With a frustrated growl, I set her on her feet. "I'm not leaving, Kitten."

  I retreated to the corner while Andy collected the pieces I'd knocked over in my haste to get my hands on her. Once everything was in her preferred order, she stripped out of her clothes. And it was every bit stripping.

  When she turned away from me and wiggled out of her jeans, exposing her skimpy black panties, I had to press my knuckles to my mouth to repress a growl. Even after nearly five years, Andy still leveled me.

  "How did this happen? Did you…did you follow me here?" she asked, ripping me out of my unabashed appreciation for her body. I folded my hands over my fly in a weak attempt to conceal my erection. I wasn't sure why I bothered.

  "I did not," I replied, staring at her bare skin. She was nude save for undies and menorah knee socks, and I was a breath away from drooling. "This was all Matt's idea."

  She considered this for a moment and then nodded as if she could understand his logic. "He knows what Lauren likes."

  I dragged my gaze from her eyes to her feet. "I didn't think this was your style," I said, jerking my chin toward the items hanging on the rack.

  She crossed her arms under her bare breasts and arched an eyebrow. She went right on staring at me, cool and calm while I was about to tear this tiny room apart. "I'm going to try these on now." She pointed at the door. "Last chance to leave."

  I lifted my hands and gestured toward the tent in my trousers. "I'm long past that, Kitten."

  She reached for a frilly bra in a shade of beige that looked boring on walls and fucking delicious as it met her skin. "You didn't have to come in here," she said, her voice filled with playful censure. She stared at herself in the mirror, shifting to get a look at the bra's ornate back.

  "Oh, yes, I did." I stared as she adjusted her breasts in the cups, palming and lifting them until they were seated just right. "There was no way in hell I was letting you
check out these things without some supervision."

  I leaned forward and sucked her nipple through the fabric. She dropped her hands to my shoulders, her nails driving into my sweater as I tugged her skin between my teeth.

  "Is that what you're doing? Supervising?" she said through a moan.

  "Yes. Get this one," I murmured, kissing my way down to her belly button. "Next."

  I watched while she cycled through several more bras, each more arresting than the one before, and knew I was bound to leave bites on my knuckles and zipper marks on my cock today. Andy didn't even have to work at teasing me. I couldn't get enough of her, alternately stamping my approval on each piece with kisses and bites and flattening her against the wall while I devoured her lips.

  I jerked my chin toward the items hanging from satin hangers as she unhooked one particularly heart-stopping bra. "Any favorites?" I asked.

  She smiled at the sexy scraps, and then back at me. "I have a few ideas but I'm curious which are your favorites. You seem to have some strong"—her gaze dropped between my legs—"opinions."

  I shook my head as I watched her pull on a sheer black kimono-robe-thing. I almost swallowed my tongue. "None of them," I said, my voice like gravel. "The lace does nothing for me."

  Andy waved at the plush room and the desire pulsing in the air around us, a smug smile on her lips. "Are you sure about that?"

  "Quite," I answered.

  That earned me a sharp "Hm" and an arched eyebrow. She turned away from me while she held up two bras by the hangers, and I stole that moment to capture the kimono's fabric between my thumb and forefinger. It was soft and silky, not unlike her long hair.

  "It's not the lace," I said. "It's the skin."

  Andy turned, her gaze warm. It was hard to pay compliments to her as she didn't find most of them authentic, but every time I struck the right spot, it made the slight pinking of her cheeks all the more special.

  "You're just saying that," she whispered, her hands on her hips.

  I hooked my finger around the ribbon keeping the kimono shut and gave it a yank. She stumbled forward, and I steered her into my lap. "If you don't believe me, let me prove it." I held her with one hand splayed across her ass while I fought my belt and zipper. "You torture me," I said, edging her panties to the side.

  I should've taken time to warm her up, get her ready. I knew what she needed but I didn't want to give today. But now, with my cock drowning in the heat at her entrance, I wanted to take. I wanted to punish her.

  For teasing me.

  For making me wait.

  For making me wonder.

  I slammed into her and pressed my fingers deep into her skin. A primal roar gathered in my chest, one that didn't feel altogether human. I kept my lips on her neck—there would be a mark there tomorrow—and hands on her hips, moving her as I wanted. If the only thing I could claim was her body, I was taking it.

  Her fingers were in my hair, twisting and pulling with every brutal thrust. The chandelier was rattling, the walls shaking, the chair under my ass shaking. Heather was probably listening to every moan, but I didn't care if the entire city listened to me fucking my fiancée.

  "Andy, I want—"

  The words were there. Right fucking there. And like a weight carried long past the point of exhaustion, I was ready to set them down and never see them again.

  "Andy," I started, "I want—"

  "Hush," she said, pressing her fingertips to my lips. My gaze traveled down at her fingers until landing on the platinum ring, the one with the diamond lazing toward her pinky finger. She'd called it ostentatious. She'd called it excessive. She'd called it an outdated tradition. But then, after her long list of reasons why it wasn't right and all of my rebuttals, she'd called it perfect. And all of that? It was perfect, for us.

  Looking into her eyes, I hammered into her without mercy. I was being rough and she'd be sore later, but I'd kiss it better. With her parted legs in mind, I growled and dropped my head to her shoulder.

  "I know what you want. Just take it," Andy whispered. "Take me."

  My brain heard those words and boom. My orgasm went from gathering at the base of my spine to barreling through my body like a runaway train. I shouted her name as I surged inside her, surrendering to some primitive need to fuck her like I meant it.

  My cock pulsed for hours, or so it seemed. When I was capable of breathing, thinking, and opening my eyes at once, I peppered Andy's neck and shoulders with light kisses.

  Right now, with my hands on her skin and my cock half hard inside her, I regretted everything. Taking, punishing, thinking any of that would ease the tension inside me.

  "You didn't," I said.

  She shook her head. "No, but that doesn't mean it was bad," she said. "And I know you're good for it."

  I ran my hands along her back, savoring her small shiver at my touch. "Tonight," I vowed. I wanted to touch her and taste her, and beg her for all the things I craved. "I'll make it up to you."

  "There are no checks and balances when it comes to orgasms. We both had a good time. That's all that matters."

  "It matters to me," I said. There were enough problems in my world. I didn't have to add inconsiderate lover to the list.

  She pressed her lips to mine. I could feel her smile. "Matt and Sam are probably waiting for you," she said.

  "I don't fucking care," I replied, and that was the damn truth. I wasn't concerned with the universe beyond the walls of this room.

  "You should go," she said, untangling herself from my lap. "I have to finish my shopping, and I imagine you do, too."

  "Doesn't mean I want to," I grumbled. I stood, tucking my dick away with great reluctance. I watched as Andy pulled on her clothes and shook out her hair, and then rearranged the hangers. "Get all of them." I moved toward the door but stopped to study the kimono. It was nothing more than shapeless fabric on the hanger but the thought of her nipples pebbled against that sheer black had my cock pulsing with need. "Definitely this one. I want you in this tonight."

  Andy flattened her hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me into the hall. "Go," she ordered. "I'll see you at home."

  "But the kimono—"

  "Go," she repeated, laughing.

  I took a step toward the sales floor but then turned back to Andy. Striding toward her, I drove my hands into her hair and brought my lips hers. "Not yet," I said, dragging her lower lip between my teeth. I kissed her again, my eyes fixed on hers, and stroked my thumbs over her delicate cheeks. "Buy that kimono. Finish your shopping. Get your ass home."

  Andy nodded, and I stepped back into the hall. There, I found myself watching while Tiel dismissed Sam from a dressing room two doors down.

  "You heard nothing, saw nothing," I said. "I'll swear to the same."

  Sam stared at the plush rug under his feet, his hands on his hips as he shook his head. "Deal," he said. "Let's go."

  "What?" Sam snapped when we found Matt on the sidewalk. He was carrying a large gift bag and wagging his finger at us with more glee than a grown man should be able to muster.

  "Look at that sloppy grin on Optimus's face," he replied, pointing at me. "And look at you, Stark. You're saltier than soy sauce."

  "Your point being?" I asked with an impatient sigh. My dick was still wet and my head was fuzzy, and I had little patience for my brother's ribbing.

  "My point," Matt started, gesturing between us again, "is that I would've expected it to be the other way around."

  I glanced at Sam, looking for some explanation of this bullshit. He shrugged, then pulled his phone from his back pocket. He tapped at the screen, seemingly writing a short novel, before saying, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "The dressing rooms," Matt said at length.

  "What's the next stop on that list of yours?" Sam asked. "Obviously, I struck out here."

  "The pub," I barked. "The only place we're going now is the pub."

  "Fuck, yes," Sam murmured. "I need a fucking drink."
<
br />   "Really thought it would be the other way around," Matt said under his breath.

  "Maybe you should stop," I said. "The fact you're thinking about it at all is unnecessary."

  "We should've dragged Riley along," Sam said. "He would've knocked over a table or asked for a demonstration on the proper way to lace a corset."

  "That's true," I said.

  "All right," Matt said. "We'll bring him next time."

  "We're never doing this again," Sam said. He turned to me. "Right?"

  I shrugged. "I could be persuaded."

  Matt pressed his fist to his mouth as he laughed. "Really thought it was going to be the other way around."

  "Shut the hell up," I said. "Can we go to the pub now?"

  Chapter Five

  Sam

  Sam: In case I die this afternoon, I want you to know one thing.

  Sam: You're wicked.

  Sam: Wicked wicked wicked.

  Sam: You could drop a house on someone and that wouldn't be as wicked as the stunt you pulled today.

  Sam: I hope you're happy.

  Sam: I'm going to drink this erection away now, but when I get home, your mouth will be spending some time with my cock.

  * * *

  When I made it home that evening, after stopping at several taverns, making a jewelry store pilgrimage, and depositing Matt and Patrick in their neighborhoods, I was suffering from the most virulent case of blue balls in my entire existence. I wanted nothing more than to take Tiel by the hand, and get her behind closed doors and on her knees.

  After instituting and enforcing a strict look-but-don't-touch rule in the dressing room, she deserved it. Then, after working off the worst of this afternoon's aggression, I wanted to get her into that leather corset and fuck her like I adored her. I did, and she deserved that, too.

  But I found Tiel deep in conversation with Ellie, who—while carrying on a conversation—was also making a valiant effort at teaching my son the basics of drumming. With a stock pot and wooden spoon.