She studies the dress in the mirror a little longer and then turns to me. "You're getting clothes for yourself, right?" When I nod, she looks me up and down, and I wonder if she notices how turned on I am. "Why don't you wear anything but black?"
"I like black."
"So do I, but I'd wear other colors, too." She shimmies back out of the dress and then pulls a filmy one against her skin. "Oh, this one's soft."
"Buy it," I rasp. "Buy it so I can peel it off you."
Ruth turns, and we both stare at each other. I'm just as surprised as her that I've said such a thing aloud. She's ruining my reserve. Still holding the dress to her naked body, she saunters toward me. When she reaches my outstretched legs, instead of moving around them, she steps between them. "Even your underwear is black."
"You noticed my underwear." I can't stop staring at her. At how soft she looks right now. At the way her brown-eyed gaze caresses me as if she likes what she sees when she studies me. I'm drunk on her gaze. Drunk and aching.
"I notice a lot of things about you," Ruth says, voice soft.
I swallow hard. "Like what?"
She tosses the dress aside, naked once more, and then moves forward. To my surprise, she climbs into my lap, facing me as she straddles me so damn boldly. I can't stop staring at her. She's gorgeous and so close. My hands itch to touch her, and I want to put my mouth on hers again. More than that, I want her tongue on my ear…or in my mouth. She leans in, the tips of her breasts brushing against my chest. "I notice you watch me."
"How can I not?" I'm hoarse with need, my gaze frantic as I devour the sight of her, so confident and proud. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
A smile blooms across her face. She rocks her hips over my aching cock, a gasp escaping me. "That was exactly the right thing to say," she whispers to me. "You've earned yourself a present."
My gaze flicks to the curtain of the small dressing room. I should tell her to stop, but I think my tongue would fall out of my mouth first. "Present?"
In response, she leans in and licks my mouth, long and slow and sensuous. I part my lips, just because I want more of her, everywhere. "A present," she agrees. "But you'll have to close your eyes."
"Should we do this here?" I want to shift my weight in the chair, but I'm afraid of disrupting whatever plans Ruth has for me. "It's not very private—"
"Private enough," she says, leaning over me again. "The shopkeeper thinks you're here with your naughty pet. Does it matter if I get a little naughtier?"
I can't bite back the groan that surges in my throat. This human is going to keffing kill me.
52
RUTH
There's something incredibly intoxicating about being in control of the situation. Does everyone think I'm Straik's slave? Sure. Am I the one that's absolutely in control of the situation? Yup.
I may be naked, but I'm the one with the power. I have no doubt in my mind that if I put on every single piece of clothing and ran through the station screaming obscenities and shooting people, Straik would absolutely back me up. He's giving me the reins, as much as he can and still keep me safe. Maybe that's what I like so much about being around him, being with him—he talks a big game and then lets me have complete control.
Just to reinforce this, I test the waters. I drag a finger down his chest. "How many dresses am I getting here?"
"How many do you want?" His breathing is raspy, distracted.
"What if I said I want all of them?"
"Then you'd make the shopkeeper very happy."
I slide my finger along the curve of his jaw. "And shoes?"
"All the shoes."
"And weapons?"
He grunts. "If you want weapons, we'll get some after this."
He's watching me so damn intently that I feel a smidge guilty for demanding all those things. "I don't want all of that," I admit. "Maybe a couple pairs of pants and shirts, and a good knife."
"I know." Straik's hands clench at the arms of the chair, as if he's doing his best not to touch me. "You're just showing me that you're in charge. I'd give you all that shit anyhow."
I grin, and rock my hips over his cock. "I know. We've both established I could do whatever I want with you right now."
"Anything," Straik rasps, his gaze utterly intense. "Name what you want."
A few days ago I would have been gleeful to hear that. I'd demand to go back to my friends right away. Now that's not on the table, though. Not if we want to keep them safe. And I've changed, too. Because now I don't just want those things. I want to make him smile. I want to touch him.