20: Locke.

"Put it on," I manage, my voice sounding like rusted metal.

Her pout is like a stroke to my dick. "You're the one who is insisting. Put it on me yourself."

There is a siren wailing in my head signaling danger ahead. Having no choice, though, I take the elaborate dress off the hanger, unfasten the buttons and stoop down, holding it open for her to step into. And while she does step into the pooled silk, one high heel at a time, she does it slowly, bringing her nearly naked ass an inch from my face and lingering, running her hands up the sides of her ribcage, humming in her throat as if she doesn't have a care in the world. As if she isn't tempting me within an inch of my life.

I can't resist pressing my open mouth to the swell of her left ass cheek, dragging my tongue over the lithe curve, moaning as I go. But I'm only given a quick taste when she inches away, wagging her finger at me in the mirror. "You had your chance."

Gritting my teeth hard, I stand, bringing the dress up her body,