Services Collected Boxed Set (2 page)

“How do I
look?”

Oh my
. I stood frozen, unable to say a word. Jacob King was standing before me looking… so much more.

We were in one of the most exclusive tailors in the city, and Jacob had hired the entire shop just for us. He’d spent the first 10 minutes getting measured to within an inch of his life, then the next 10 tapping his foot as an old man with a tape around his neck pulled a selection of suits off various racks. The old man had laid them out before us, then muttered to himself and selected crisp white linen shirts and handmade, patent leather shoes to go beside each one. Now we were alone, with instructions to call the tailor back for final fittings once “sir” had tried them all on.

Jacob had been standing before a curtained off change room – no more than a circular rod suspended from the ceiling with velvet drapes – but strode quickly towards an old full length mirror on an adjustable stand when I didn’t answer.

“I don’t like it. I don’t like suits. This was stupid,” he said, looking in the mirror. Then he swiveled towards me, seeking my opinion despite the outburst. “What do you think?”

It’s so hot.
I wanted to say.
More so because it feels like you’re doing it just for me.

It was irrational, I knew. He needed a suit and I happened to be playing the role of shopping assistant while he did it. But still. Those green eyes connected with mine and he smiled – smiled! – at me as if my approval was the only thing he needed in the world.

“It’s perfect,” I said instead.

“So you like it?”

I swallowed. “Yes. Very much.”

His expression softened. “Good. I’ll take it then. That was easier than I thought – I don’t know why I resisted all these years.”

This man was so mercurial! How could he go from hating it to loving it so quickly? Was it because of me?

“Hold on,” I stuttered. “You can’t be done yet. It’s the first one you tried on.”

“Also the most expensive. So it can’t get any better, right?”

“Well, I still think you should try on the others.”

“Do you think I need to?”

I used his question as an excuse to openly stare at the man. Barely visible dark woven lines bulked Jacob out in all the right places – shoulders and chest – before tapering down to two buttons at the waist and pants that slid down his legs in sleek, straight lines that got me all curly. The shirt underneath was crisp and blindingly white, with a firm collar that sat popped up at the back like James Dean – or maybe Tom Cruise in Risky Business, before the crazy.
God he looked hot.

I approached, smoothing down his collar. “No, actually it really is perfect. But you’re not done yet.”

“Really?” The voice was beside my ear and I shivered. It was full of suggestion.

I stepped back before I lost control. “Really,” I swallowed. “Now… now we need a tie, cufflinks, belt and handkerchief.”

His eyes refocused. “Not what was I hoping for,” he muttered. Then louder: “A belt maybe. But not that other stuff. Too constricting.”

“Not into bondage?” I teased.

He laughed. “Maybe with the right person.” His eyes met mine, and I had to look away.

What was this connection between us?
I fought down an irrational urge to launch myself at him.
No. Must stay strong.
This was business, not pleasure. I was
not
the sort of girl who took money from someone, then had sex. I’d proven that twice today already.
Third time’s the charm
, I thought rebelliously. 

I took a deep breath, ostensibly to clear my head, even as my subconscious noted the way it made my chest tighten against my dress. His eyes went round, and I had to fight to keep a satisfied smile from my face.
Oops.

“Back to the task at hand, Mr. King.”

His eyes dragged reluctantly back to my face. “I don’t often wear suits,” he said simply. “And I’ve never worn a tie.”

I looked at him and arched an eyebrow. “Really? In all the thousand business meetings you must have had, you’ve
never
worn a tie?”

His hand went to his collar, loosening it as if he were wearing one right now. “It’s amazing what having millions upon millions of dollars lets you get away with. I’ve never had a reason to.”

I sighed, frustrated.
But he’d look so good in a tie!
Then I noticed his eyes – they’d drifted back to my chest once again, drawn by the deep exhalation. An idea occurred to me.
Could I? Would I?
It was so naughty!

I moved closer to him. “So you’re saying there’s no way, at all, that I could get you to try on some accessories?”

He swallowed. “The total sum of clothing in this room is more than enough at present,” he said thickly. “I don’t believe we need to add any more to it.”

“What do you suggest we do then?”

He stepped back, as if fighting the urges inside him. “I can’t… I can’t think straight around you. What are you doing to me?” He shook his head. “Nothing – I don’t wear suits, this is crazy.”

I looked at him; at the torture on his face, and the breathtaking figure he made before me even half dressed. What was his problem with suits? Why wouldn’t he dress up? And I decided –
rashly, bravely
– to silence my mind, and follow my heart.

“You’re right,” I said. “The total sum of clothing in this room is more than enough at present.” I paused, as if thinking. “What if, for every extra item you put on, I took one off?”

It wasn’t me speaking, it was… something else. I was a good girl. I would never say something like that.
Or would I?
I’d been prepared to strip in front of strangers, my heart said, why not do it for someone I actually wanted?

I looked at him, and then very slowly, deliberately, I began to pull down the strap of my dress. His eyes widened, he swallowed, and then in a flurry he snatched a brown belt from a rack and began threading it through crisp, dark pants.

“Tsk, tsk.” The strap paused mid-shoulder. “Not just any belt will do. Matching please.” I looked at him suggestively and used my other hand to trace a line from breast to hip.
What was I doing?
“Quality matters.” I could feel my nipples hardening, making small peaks under the fabric of my dress.
This was so naughty!

The belt disappeared and a black one took its place – smooth, almost invisible against the pristine wool suit. He looked at me when done, and I smiled, one strap now hanging loose. Then I stepped out of my heels.

He looked at me, scandalized. “That wasn’t the deal!”

I winked at him. “I know. I just removed two pieces of clothing. Lucky you! Nice belt by the way, you look…
really
good in it. Now, how do you feel about cufflinks?”

He swallowed. “Do they count as two items?”

I laughed, delighted at the banter. “No. I make the rules for this game. But they still count as one…”

I left the suggestion hanging, and he’d found a platinum set on the counter before my hands had even reached up,
oh so slowly,
to begin drawing down the second shoulder of my dress. His fingers were so nimble and deft as they threaded the links.
What other uses might he put those fingers to?
I gasped as a wetness started to bloom between my legs. If I was alone, I would be sliding a hand down between my legs right now.

I shook my head. Instead, I slid a hand up.
And removed my hairpin
.

The look on his face was almost comical as I dropped it daintily to the floor. “That’s not fair!” he protested.

I licked my lips. “The question you have to ask yourself, I guess, is twofold,” I said. “First, how many articles of clothing do you think I have left? And second, how quickly do you think you can find a handkerchief for that suit?”

He leapt for a rack at the back of the change room, returning with a deep lavender silk square.

“Now, now, do you think that will work?” I asked. I knew it would – in fact, it would look magic against the deep black of the suit, but I wanted to tease him. He nodded dumbly, and I slowly began to peel my dress down.

“Good boy.” I pulled the straps sensually, erotically down my arms. They got lower and lower, gradually exposing my cleavage as they did. I had complete power over this man now, his undivided attention.

The silk scarf was still hanging from one of his hands at hip height, in front of him. I looked at it pointedly. “Is that where it’s supposed to go?” I asked.

He lifted his hand to reveal a bulging erection, straining the material of the suit even as he put the silk scarf in his top pocket. “What are you doing to me?” he whispered.

I pulled the dress lower, until the material folded just over the nipples, suggesting everything but revealing nothing. It was obvious that I wasn’t wearing a bra. “Teasing,” I said. Then I lifted my hands up, and removed my watch.

His eyes almost popped with frustration. “Arggh!”

“That’s it,” I said, dropping it gently to the floor. “No more accessories. Only the dress left.” I pouted, a finger tracing my lower lip. “And you still don’t have a tie.” I looked around at the tie racks surrounding me and chose a woven, purple number to match the silk square. “How about this?” I asked, throwing it to him. “That is, if you’re still interested.”

He caught it midair, then held it forlornly. “I… I actually don’t know how to tie one,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow, then beckoned him towards me with an index finger. “Come here, I’ll help.”

He walked forwards and I threw the loop over him, adjusting and knotting it to the perfect height. His fingers had been on my hips while I worked, but now they climbed slowly, caressing my waist and then the underside of my breasts, one hand on each. They crept up further still until they had hooked over the material, and started to pull it slowly down.

“Mr. King, what do you think you are doing?”

His answer was a deep, aroused breath.

My breasts popped free of my material’s tight embrace, bouncing slightly as the man before me sucked in a breath. He held them as the material slid down to stop against my hips, worshiping them with his eyes before starting to explore them slowly, lovingly, with soft, strong hands. First one thumb and then the other moved up to circle my hard nipples, causing their color to deepen even as goosebumps broke out on my arms.
So gentle!

Then slowly his mouth lowered. Hot breath trailed from my collarbone down my skin until it was directly above my nipple, so tantalizingly close I could almost feel his lips. His tongue flicked out, the contact sending a shiver all the way up my spine, all the way down to my legs. It flicked out again and the shiver rebounded, making my whole body tingle. Then suddenly his head shot forward, taking first one nipple and then the other into his mouth, sucking hard, the pain an exquisitely delightful counterpoint to his earlier soft breath.

I couldn’t help it, my hands flew to his head, dragging it up, and then he was kissing me hard on the lips; his body held against me, my breasts pushing hard against his suit, his erection pushing hard against my dress.

“What are we doing?” I gasped.

“I don’t know,” he managed between kisses. “But I like it. I need it.” With a savageness born of passion, he knelt and suddenly ripped the dress down my legs. “That’s better,” he growled. “That’s what I was promised.”

He guided me, slowly, back towards a table, pushing me backwards onto it, removing my panties and then spreading my legs to stand between them.

My eyes widened. “Mr. King! The tailor could be back at any moment!”

“Let him watch,” he rumbled. “He might learn something.” Then he leaned over my recumbent body, kissing me passionately on the lips before trailing sweet, soft kisses over my cheek to the cleft of my collarbone. In this position, leaning over the table, I could feel his member pressed against me. I wasn’t sure what felt more delicious –soft kisses as his mouth slid from my collarbone to take a nipple once more, or the hard, firm package I could feel and wanted so badly between his legs. It ground up against me, making me wet, making me lose my mind.

The mouth left my nipple and continued to trail downwards, both hands following it until the kisses reached my pelvis. My breath caught. Anticipation would be the death of me – his mouth was so slow, yet so erotic. I wanted the kisses to never end and yet get to the point all at the same time.

He seemed to sense my thoughts, looking up at me with lust filled eyes for just a moment before lowering again, mouth sliding down to that most intimate part of me to hover just above, blowing against the opening. I writhed on the table, fighting the urge to seize his head and drag it down. He continued until my hands were gripping the table with desire.

Then his mouth lowered.

A jolt of electricity shot through me as his tongue flicked out, first once, then twice. “Mmm,” he whispered. “I like what I taste.” His tongue was so delicate, rasping all the right edges, titillating until my breathing got quicker and quicker.