Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(48)
Dana’s very low paying but community-oriented job as a minister meant Peter bore the lion’s share of the bills, because his home—now theirs—certainly wasn’t the kind a minister’s salary could afford or maintain. However, he’d eased her mind on it by pointing out she was earning enough good karma to cover his ass for entrance to Heaven. Damn right. The woman worked as many hours some weeks as an on-call surgeon.
But Rachel had a different issue. Watching her be gently urged into the dressing room, Ben knew her being ill-at-ease with him paying came from a lot of places. She’d been a bone-deep submissive all her life with no outlet for it until Jon. She’d made great strides in self-esteem and confidence since they’d been together, but several years balanced against two decades of damage from her first asshole husband meant there were still some snags.
Before she and Jon had met, she’d scraped and saved to get her yoga studio on its feet, funding it with carefully saved money from her work as a physical therapist. Jon never undersold that accomplishment, but Ben suspected somewhere deep inside, Rachel was afraid to seem too dependent or trusting of anyone, for fear of being kicked emotionally in the face, as her husband had done to her too many times. A certain vital level of detachment to shield herself still existed.
He expected she’d pick out one thing with a modest price, but that was fine. The others would know a couple other things she wanted and make sure those landed on the counter.
In the meantime, Rachel stepped out of the dressing room in her carefully chosen outfit. His brain stopped, so he had to rewind and replay what Rachel said to him, a couple seconds after the fact.
“Dana said I should ask if you think Jon will approve.”
Wallenda’s inventory was heaven-sent. She not only sold lingerie, but dresses that could make a man’s blood drain straight to his cock. While still doing just that to male senses, the dress Rachel wore managed to convey top notch class and style. It was black, some kind of stretchy, gathered fabric that outlined and flattered Rachel’s generous breasts and hips. The low back was crisscrossed with straps all the way to the sweet valley above her ass.
A band of fabric around the throat was connected to two straps of fabric that ran diagonally from her neck to beneath her arms, with the effect of triangulating and emphasizing the swelling curves. One tug would bring the neckline below her breasts.
The dress fit her like a second skin in the right way, all the toned yoga curves and soft woman. Ben could imagine it accessorized with the collar Jon had given her, silver wire bound with gold posts, and a sapphire pendant wrapped in more wire.
“If he doesn’t like it, you’re coming to live with me and Marcie, so I can keep you both as my personal sex slaves,” he said bluntly. He held up his phone. “Let’s see what he thinks.”
He shot the picture, including a note with it. As Rachel bent to see the phone screen, he took her hand and did a sharp tug to bring her into his lap, catching her as she tumbled. Plus enjoying the hell out of how the dress rode up even higher on her thighs. She smiled at him as he held her in his arms and showed her what he was texting, as well as how she looked in the picture.
Your lady wants to know if she should get this old rag.
The response came within seconds, and made her smile grow.
Let you know, soon as I can roll my tongue back in my mouth.
Matt, give Jon back his phone. Stop sexting on it.
Rachel covered her mouth on a second laugh and she struggled out of his lap, giving him an amused look as he gave her a boost that slid his hands over some nice curves.
Dana was coming out of the dressing room as Rachel returned to it. Probably the least modest of the group, not just because of her blindness, but because of the Army background, she didn’t appear self-conscious in the least in a red bra that mixed satin with sheer gauze and lace to show plenty of tantalizing glimpses of golden-brown flesh beneath. She wore her jeans with it, a look he heartily approved. Though she couldn’t see herself, he expected it was muscle memory that had her head dipped as if she was looking down while she adjusted the bra padding and then presented herself, hands on hips.
“Okay, do they look plump and tender enough?"
"Are they breasts or a chicken sandwich?" Cass asked tartly. Lucas’s wife had drawn closer and now stood by Ben’s chair, her hand resting next to his shoulder, her smallest finger pressed against it.
"He's going to devour them, so does it matter?" Dana responded.
"Good point,” Ben agreed.
"No, these are good points," Dana said, arching her back flirtatiously. Cass chuckled and shook her head.
“They certainly are,” Ben said. “Okay, picture going to your man.”
Ben held up the phone and clicked it, then included more commentary before sending it to Peter. The response was again immediate.
“He says I should switch your ass, because your breasts are perfect as they are. But he likes the way they look in that.”
Dana brightened. “Good. Wallenda says she has it in green, purple and blue, too. I’m going to get one of each. With matching panties.”
“Your congregation will love them.”
When she skipped back into the dressing room, he shook his head and looked up at Cass. “Kids,” he sighed.
Her lips quirked, her blue eyes amused. Hers were like a summer sky, while Savannah’s were more like faceted jewels. “Aren’t you nearly the youngest here, except for Marcie?” Cass asked.