Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(33)

She nodded toward a silver box, one of several mounted in accessible but discreet locations near the shoe fitting areas. The boxes contained little brown silky balls. At a closer glance, he deduced they were foot hosiery, to help the women try on the dressy shoes. Another little silver box beneath it was apparently to discard the shoe protectors after use.

“Since I’d wear hose with these, it also helps me check the fit,” Marcie said. “My socks, thin as they are, aren’t as thin as stockings.”

He’d settled his hand on her thigh as she spoke, and her gaze went to it before her hand did, resting over his fingers. She leaned forward, dropping her voice to a lower tone. “I was thinking of wearing these with my wedding dress.”

His heart did a skipped beat, as it always did when she took wedding talk from the general to specifics, but he maintained a poker face with effort. “Really? Somebody ask you to marry him?”

“He wants to.” Her long hair had fallen over her shoulder, thick blond locks tempting his fingers to tangle and grip. Hard.

“I plan to wear sheer white stockings and garters,” she said, her face close to his. “The top of the stockings will have tiny little bows on them. I can imagine you untying those bows. I know it’s customary to change from the dress to travel clothes when you leave the reception, but before that, I want to go somewhere with you. I want you to be inside me when I’m still wearing all of it.”

At the beginning of their current relationship, she’d had a serious problem topping from the bottom. If asked about that, she’d probably—and very unwisely—argue it had been necessary for him to pull his head out of his ass. Be that as it may, he knew she didn’t want to top from the bottom. His brat had the soul of a sweet submissive.

Fortunately, he’d taught her to trust him enough to simply tell him what she wanted, in the right way. Like she’d just done. But he wasn’t sure if that was any less disquieting. He could suddenly see himself pulling her into a quiet antechamber of the church, putting her on her back on a table, pushing up a sea of white satin and netting to expose those tempting garters and pale thighs, the little pink ribbons loosening under his touch…

She knew too well what planting images like that in his head did. Her brown eyes were gleaming, her mouth set in that determined line that made him want to kiss her as much as spank her. Instead, he maintained the poker face and looked down at her feet with deceptively casual interest.

“Hmm.” Taking one of the ankle stockings from her, he unrolled it onto her foot, caressing her ankle with firm hands again. Then he used his thumb and two fingers to locate the pressure point in her arch and tightened his grip.

He had a lot of strength in his hands, and knew how to use it. He registered the quiver that went up her leg, heard the indrawn breath. He slid his gaze up her with leisurely pleasure, increasing the pressure incrementally as he covered each tempting area. Slim thighs, hips clad in denim; the fit of the shirt over her breasts and their distracting swell over the scoop neck.

He lingered on the forget-me-not pendant against her sternum before he met her gaze. Her lips had tightened against the pain as it built, but her eyes were sparking. “How about the panties?” he asked casually, just as low. “What would they look like?”

Since he appeared as if he were merely holding her foot, they weren’t attracting any attention, and the four women who would guess what they were doing were involved in looking at shoes. Cass was the closest, since she would be interested in how the shoes looked on Marcie’s feet, but she’d wandered a few feet away, telling him she was giving them the bubble of privacy their body language had made it clear they desired.

“Marcie, I asked you a question,” he said. She licked her lips.

“Sheer white, with another little bow on the waistband.”

He eased his grip and picked up the shoe, enjoying her released breath as she managed the additional throb of pain the freed nerve endings and unrestricted blood vessels would shoot through her foot. Before it absorbed the relief that came with the removal of the human clamp. “So you said you’ll wear these with the dress?” he said, just as casually.

That made her breath catch again, this time because he’d acknowledged in some way the idea there would eventually be a wedding. But he gave her credit for having just as good a poker face as his own. For anyone else, that is. He could see all the emotions swirling behind her fixed expression. They gave him a tight feeling of anticipation, a disturbingly strong desire to say what she said he wanted to say. It made him think she could read his face the way he could read her heart, no matter what mask she wore.

“If they fit right,” she answered his question. “I like them. Do you?”

“I do.” He particularly liked the feet wearing them, with her pink polished toes. As he held her ankle, he watched as she pointed her toes to slip them into the glove-like fit of the shoe. Though he enjoyed the occasional bastinado treatment on a sub’s soft soles, he’d never considered himself a foot fetish kind of guy. But now he had a sudden urge to tease her arch with his tongue, his teeth.

While having vast amounts of money could give him some latitude, he didn’t think the other patrons or the store employees would be comfortable if he decided to go that route. But he filed it away for further exploration when he and Marcie were alone together.

After he put both shoes on her, he rose to his feet, drawing her with him by one hand. “Walk for me, brat.”