“My dad’s on the road,” Christiana said.
“He’ll be back.” Jonathan inspected a few of the dresses.
“I might have to work the show.” Shit, why did she say that? Maybe because she stood in a room that only reminded her of the society she’d always tried to avoid.
“We’ll see,” Jonathan said.
Sarah ran her hand down a long, silky black garment. “We have a few choices. The Oscar de La Renta, Marc Jacobs, and, of course, the Lise Charmel and LaPerla.” She lifted a triangle of lace in her slim fingers.
“We’ll start with this one.” Jonathan touched a black cocktail dress.
“I see your taste hasn’t wavered, Jay.” Sarah slipped the garment off the hanger.
Jay? Renewed jealousy spread across her skin. She tried to tamp it down.
Jonathan winked at Sarah. He sat on a wooden bench lining one of the mirrored panels, stretched out his long legs. He leaned back like he was waiting for a show.
“We girls have some changing to do.” Sarah took Christiana’s arm and walked her over to an accordion screen. Once away from Jonathan’s appraising eyes, Sarah leaned close to Christiana. “I know how to dress women, Christiana. Trust me.”
She’d heard those words before. But Christiana wasn’t sure she wanted to look like Avery. The clothes draped over Sarah’s arm belonged to her friend’s world, not her own.
“Now, off with that t-shirt. It does nothing for you.”
Christiana sighed and pulled her shirt over her head.
Sarah frowned at Christiana’s plain cotton bra. “Hmm, I’ll be right back.”
Her heels clicked across the hardwood floor as she disappeared into another room and returned with a handful of silky bras in various colors. Before Christiana could object, Sarah had snapped off Christiana’s bra and handed her a black strapless one. The cups looked half the size they should have been, but she hastily put it on. She wasn’t used to undressing in front of a stranger, even if she had spent the last twenty-four hours with fewer clothes off than on. She had to admit the demi bra fit perfectly. It also pushed her breasts up in such a way they looked larger.
Sarah slipped the dress over Christiana’s head and zipped it up the back. She smoothed down the fabric over her hips.
“Good.” Sarah stood back to admire her work.
“Let me see you, Christiana,” Jonathan’s smooth voice beckoned.
“In a minute, Jay. Beauty can’t be rushed.”
“You call him Jay . . . too?” An urge to know everything that had ever happened to Jonathan in the past overwhelmed her senses. He’s done so much—without me.
“Yes.” Sarah bent down at her feet. Christiana lifted her foot, and Sarah slipped on a black heel that Christiana was sure she couldn’t stand in, let alone walk a single step.
Sarah stood. “Louboutin’s. They elongate the leg so nicely. Take a look.”
Christiana stared at the young woman in the mirror. Her legs indeed looked impossibly long. The black dress hugged her body, but didn’t feel tight. The woman reflected in the mirror looked at least twenty-five. She looked like she might belong with Jonathan Brond.
“Now you’re ready.” Sarah motioned for her to step from behind the screen.
Jonathan nodded as Christiana stepped forward. “This is how you should always dress.”
“Yeah, it’s perfect for delivering room service.” She ran her hands over a small strip of black leather at the waist.
She hobbled toward Jonathan who stood to take her hand. “You like it?”
“Christiana, I like any dress that makes me want to take it off you.”
She blushed, knowing Sarah overheard.
“The Herrera next,” Jonathan instructed Sarah. “Skip the Gucci. No red.”
“Yes, I agree. Too overpowering. But, this . . . . ” Sarah held up the dark blue gown, the crystals twinkling in the bright light.
Jonathan cupped Christiana’s cheek. “Will bring out your eyes, lovely.”
Christiana wobbled back to Sarah, who ushered her back behind the screen.
Sarah unzipped the black strapless form-fitting dress. Christiana slipped her legs into the open back of the gossamer gown and Sarah pulled the sides together to zip it up.
Christiana searched her mind to say something to Jonathan’s sister. If Avery were in her place, she’d know the appropriate small talk. Instead, Christiana couldn’t stop focusing on the dress Sarah tugged around her middle. Christiana had never shown so much skin while still being dressed. The slit up the side would reveal her right leg from ankle to hip when she walked. The tight boning at her ribs threatened to squeeze her small breasts up and out. She yanked the draping at the top up in a vain attempt to cover her breasts. Sarah reached around and pulled the fabric back down. “It’s meant to showcase your décolletage.”
“I’ll fall out.”
“You won’t. But we want a man to think you might.”
Christiana blinked at Sarah’s deadpan face in the mirror.
“You do want him to notice, right?” she asked Christiana’s reflection.
Always.
Sarah fastened silver sandals on Christiana’s feet, which immediately began to sting from the thin straps.
When Christiana stepped from behind the accordion screen, Jonathan crossed his arms and leaned back into the mirror. “I can take it from here, Sarah.”
“Of course. Let me know your selections, and I’ll have them sent over.” Before Christiana could say thank you, Sarah slipped through a mirrored panel in the wall.
Christiana walked toward Jonathan. The fabric cascaded down her legs from the weight of the crystals, yet they were light enough to allow the skirt to swish slightly as she walked. He took her hand and led her in a large arcing circle around the room. “I look forward to dancing with you in this gown, Christiana.”
She sashayed back and forth, letting the fabric tease her legs. The muscles in her calves strained from the effort to hold her balance in those heels. She leaned toward him, inviting a kiss. Jonathan didn’t return her gesture. Instead, he walked to the garment rack and took a small pouch from a gold hanger.
“Now I’m going to dress you.” He unzipped the red bag and brought out a black lace bra, panties and garter belt. Laying them down on the bench, he said. “Come here.”
Christiana walked to him, and he turned her to unzip the dress slowly.
“But, your sister—”
“Won’t interrupt us.”
The two sides of the dress fell open, and his warm lips caressed her shoulder. He slipped the silky fabric over her hips and let the dress fall to the floor. Christiana started to bend over to pick it up but was stopped by an arm circling her waist.
“Leave it. It’s hardly my favorite.”
“Which one was?”
“What you’re about to put on.”
He unsnapped the strapless bra, and it hit the floor. He whisked her panties to her ankles, and she stepped out of them.
“Of course, this is one of my favorite looks, as well.” He palmed her breasts with his hand and tweaked her nipples. Shivers cascaded through her. She ground her hips back into his erection.
Jonathan swept her hair to one side and continued to kiss her neck, thumb her nipples and arched his stiff cock into her crevice. It felt strange being this tall alongside his solid frame.
“Jonathan?”
“You mean sir.”
The thought she’d only agreed to his overly formal address while in Charlottesville was overwritten by the contact of his lips on her shoulder.
He released her body and spun her around.
“Not yet.” He sat back down and crossed his arms. “Put them on.” It was not a request.
She eased off the silver sandals and picked up the night-black lace panties. She slipped them up her legs, the back leaving at least half of her cheeks exposed. Cool air skated through as it barely covered her most intimate parts. The mounds of her breasts threatened to spill ov
er the bra’s scalloped edge. The garter belt’s straps tickled her skin.
“Now the stockings.” Jonathan held up two gossamer wisps.
After slipping the diaphanous silk over each leg, she struggled with securing the tops of the stocking to the rubber clips. Jonathan stood in front of her and stilled her hands. “Let me.” He expertly attached them in front and back, lingering sensuously over the adjustment.
He knelt and positioned the Louboutin’s before her feet. Christiana held on to his shoulders as she slipped into them.
“Walk over to the garment rack, then back to me. I want to see you move.”
Christiana moved slowly, still unsure of her balance in the four-inch high heels. She managed to make it to the rack of clothes with a slight sashay.
Jonathan’s eyes held her gaze, steadying her walking. The heels boosted her confidence. When she reached him, his arms circled around her waist. He turned her, so she faced her image in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize herself. The black contrasted sharply with her pale skin though her face was flushed. The lace rubbed roughly across her nipples, only feeding the simmering fire he had yet to cool since the morning’s “servicing” session.
Jonathan’s broad chest pushed into her back, causing her to pitch forward.
“Hold on to the bench. Spread your legs wide,” he said
She gripped the smooth wood, her face so close to the mirror her breath fogged the surface. She spread her legs wider and leaned her ass into his crotch.
“Good girl.” He dipped his fingers between her thighs.
Christiana’s skin tingled at his touch through the diaphanous fabric.
He smacked a cheek.
She huffed out a burst of air at the impact.
“Fuck, your ass is magnificent.” A rush of fluid between her legs betrayed her anxiety over the possibility of his impending claim of ownership there.
Jonathan brought his hand down on her bared flesh several more times, each time propelling air from her lungs in small grunts. She pushed her behind toward his punishing hand and the swollen cock held imprisoned in his faded jeans. Her need arose so high, it nearly swamped her consciousness. She craved his hands on her in any way.
“Sir?” she panted.
“Yes, lovely.”
“Please.” She danced her ass backward more, wanting contact with his steely erection, held captive in his pants.
“Hmm, greedy.” He slapped her haunch, and a zing of heat spread across her cheek.
A zipper sounded. Fabric scraped. His thick, rigid shaft nestled in the soaked fabric that barred his entry to her core. She spread her legs even more.
Jonathan gathered her hair in a hand and pulled her head back. “Shall I take you right here?
“Yes, please, sir. Fuck me.” Words she’d never thought possible to say came out as easily as if she’d asked him what he’d like off The Oak Room menu. She didn’t care if his sister walked in. She wanted him to take her.
Christiana gripped the edge of the bench harder when he jerked the sheer panties, stretching them over her legs until they ripped. She cried out as he hilted himself into her.
He dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her backward, pumping her flesh over his cock until his balls swung upward to slap her clit. Her breaths puffed out between each stab. A groan escaped from her lips when Jonathan’s mouth bit while he massaged her insides with his cock in tight, short stokes.
“Fuck, you’re sweet, Christiana.”
Her clit ached, desperate for relief. Before her orgasm could tip over, Jonathan shuddered and thrust into her deeper than she thought possible, nearly sending her into the mirror. He breathed heavily into her hair for a minute and then lifted his weight off her back. He pulled his slick cock from between her legs.
Christiana straightened. A face print fogged the mirror, lip gloss smeared in one long swipe.
Jonathan pivoted her into a hug. His chin rested on her shoulder.
“Hmm, I see we have our own private Rorschach test on the mirror. I wonder what the good ladies of Washington would see in your imprint. I know I’ll always see your face, slack with lust, reminding me how you take my cock deep.”
Christiana thought it only read one thing. Please, let me come.
She tried to remember her earlier reward for patience. It suddenly seemed overrated.
20
When Christiana walked out of The Oak on Tuesday evening, Avery was outside leaning on a black Crown Victoria, giggling over something one of the rapt valet attendants had just said.
“Finally!” Avery said when she saw Christiana. “Jacob here has been keeping me company.” Jacob flushed bright red. More like letting you park in the valet area.
Going out with Avery on her one night off that week wasn’t her ideal scenario. But it might help abate the constant texts and voice mail messages questioning where Christiana had been. Christiana only hoped no one recognized her at Ireland’s Four Provinces after her father’s last visit to the bar. But Avery couldn’t be swayed to go anywhere else. “Not when Chase’s brother works the door, girl. Camden has always wanted me. We’ll get free drinks!”
Why Avery needed free anything was beyond understanding.
“Well, I’m ready, let’s go,” Christiana said. She’d taken a cab to work, glad to avoid the thirty-five dollar parking fee for the day, knowing Avery would drive her home later. “What’s with your dad’s Crown Vic? I thought you’d never be caught dead in it.”
“It won’t matter where we park. Federal judge perks.” Avery grinned. “Here, take my purse and get out my perfume. Spritz yourself. I’m getting you a date this summer if it’s the last thing I do, and you won’t be attracting any men smelling like crab cakes.”
Christiana spritzed scent over her hair. She didn’t want to smell like Avery, but she knew her friend had a point.
Avery checked her lipstick in the visor mirror. “That Jacob guy is cute. Why don’t you date him?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, really. He was regaling me with a list of all the secret rooms in The Oak. There’s like a million security cameras up or something.”
“Washington gossip. Everyone likes to think they’re in a clandestine CIA operation.”
“He said some wild things go on there. You’d think you’d notice. You’re there enough.”
“I’m more of a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of girl.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone is so careful of their privacy as you. I’m just sayin’.”
Avery sped up Connecticut Avenue, long since emptied of commuters heading north to their Maryland suburban homes and eased the huge sedan into a handicapped space just up the street from Ireland’s Four Provinces. After all, what’s a few parking tickets to someone with an endless parental expense account and federal judge license plates?
Avery marched past the long queue of patrons waiting to be allowed inside, ignoring the snide comments of guys waiting in line. Chase’s brother, Camden, stood at the front door and opened it wide when he saw them. “Ladies.” He threw Christiana a broad smile.
The bar teemed with tipsy patrons, jostling each other at the long wooden bar. Christiana barely avoided getting beer spilled on her as Camden led her and Avery to a tall table on the side.
“Don’t overdo it, girls,” he said and slapped the table before turning away to return to his doorman duties.
“So protective,” Avery mimicked. “Jesus, we’re college students. If anyone’s got a tolerance, it’s us.”
“You’ve gotten funnier since last year.”
“So glad I amuse you. You’ve gotten more serious. You certainly work more.”
The three-man Irish band struck up a lilting ballad in the corner. Avery bounced in her seat in time with the music. You’d think she hadn’t been out in months.
“Good lord, do I need to serve myself?” she shouted. She jumped off her stool and headed to the bar.
“Hey, Chris, how ya been
?” Christiana startled at Camden’s voice behind her. He had to shout to be heard over the music.
“I’m fine.” She was surprised Camden knew her name.
“Hey, listen, while Avery’s occupied, I was hoping you could help me with something.” He slid onto Avery’s abandoned stool. “Can you talk to Avery about Chase? I mean, she’s gotta stop calling him.”
Christiana laughed. “You’ve got it backward. Chase can’t stop calling her.”
“I don’t know what she’s told you but when Chase breaks up with someone, he makes a clean break. Listen, he didn’t want to hurt her last summer. But she’s got to stop trying to reconcile. It’s making him feel guilty. Just talk to her. Ya’ know, as a friend.”
He slapped the table and walked away. Camden had to have it all wrong. Avery Churchill would never chase a guy. Well, maybe one, and he was off-limits.
Avery balanced three beers in a triangle between her two hands.
“That’s a lot of beer, Avery. How’d they give it to you?”
“I have my ways. Besides, we have to make up for lost time. We haven’t been out in ages.”
Avery lifted a frothy mug to her lips and took a big gulp before setting the mug down with a dramatic thunk. “We need to catch up, girlfriend. So, first, remind me why I chose California ‘cause the rumors of gorgeous blond lifeguards and actors were highly exaggerated. All anyone cares about at Stanford is saving the planet or launching a company sure to destroy it. We should go to Charlottesville one weekend, and I can see if I want to transfer. Wouldn’t us two trolling the Virginia frat parties be a hoot?”
Christiana’s heart dropped to the sticky bar floor.
“I don’t think you’d like Charlottesville. Too small-town for you.” Christiana took a small sip of the cold draught. “Hey listen, Camden came over and—”
“Don’t tell me, he asked for my number, didn’t he? He always did eye me like a piece of candy. Well, we need to toast. To you finally getting laid regularly.”
Christiana nearly spit out her beer.
“You’ve been holding out on me. You said that guy Jeff at school wasn’t exactly Don Juan. He get better or something?”
Elite (Elite Doms of Washington Book 1) Page 18