The store clerk’s warm hands secure blood-red straps around my ankles. The immense heels slope sharply to polished white nails.
Seduction always quickens my pulse, knees drifting apart. Wider. Nothing but wet heat beneath the tiny matching dress.
His eyes saucer. I chew my lip. Flash forward to porcelain thighs wrapping his bucking hips in the stock room, perched on boxes, our frenzied needs cresting. I’ll stifle moans at bitten nipples and neck. Gasp. Clutch. Chase desperate release, lidded gaze locked over his shoulder on my watching husband.
I eye the clerk. The shoes. My fortieth pair.
“I’ll take them.”
