He has her strip naked

Cody’s mouth was still close to her ear when he spoke again, the words low and thick with the same heat that kept his cock hard against her.

“Take it off.”

Emily’s stomach dropped. She shook her head once in the dark, a tiny, tight movement.

“The dress,” he whispered. “All of it. Strip.”

She could feel the threat under the words even if he never said it out loud. The house was still too quiet. One wrong noise and the closet door could open on everything—her underage drinking, the short gold dress, the citation waiting downstairs. Her hands were shaking when they finally moved.

The zipper at the side of the dress was small and delicate. She found it by touch, the metal cool against her damp fingers. The sound of it sliding down was impossibly loud in the cramped space. Cody’s hands stayed on her the whole time—one still cupping her bare breast, the other under the hem, gripping her ass—while she worked the zipper all the way open.

The gold fabric loosened. She peeled it down her body as carefully as the tight space allowed, the shimmering material sliding over her hips and then further until it puddled around her heels. The air in the closet felt colder against newly exposed skin. She was left in only a thin strapless bra and matching panties, both dark against the pale of her body.

Cody’s breathing had gone heavier. His free hand immediately found the clasp of the bra at her back. He didn’t wait for her. He unhooked it himself, the elastic releasing with a soft snap, and then the cups fell away. Emily’s breasts spilled free, full and heavy, nipples tightening in the cool air. He caught one in each large hand at once, squeezing the soft weight of them, thumbs dragging over the peaks while a low sound left his throat.

“Panties too,” he murmured.

Her face burned with humiliation and disgust. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of the thin fabric and pushed them down. The material slid over her hips, down her thighs, and then she had to step carefully out of them one heel at a time, the motion pressing her naked body even tighter against his soft bulk and the hard line of his cock. When the panties joined the dress on the closet floor she was completely bare except for the strappy gold heels that still added three inches to her height.

Cody’s hands wasted no time.

They moved over her naked skin with open greed—palms sliding up the bare curve of her waist, over the soft plane of her stomach, then back to her breasts. He lifted them, squeezed them, rolled the nipples between thick fingers until they were stiff and sensitive. One hand dropped lower, spreading across her ass again, this time with nothing between his damp skin and hers. He gripped both cheeks hard, pulling her flush against him so the thick ridge of his erection ground against the soft heat between her thighs. The only things separating them now were his jeans and the thin barrier of whatever underwear he still wore.

Emily stayed rigid, every muscle locked against the crawling discomfort. She could feel everything—the warm, slightly sticky press of his soft stomach against her bare midriff, the heat of his hands openly groping her tits and ass, the way his cock dragged along her naked lower belly and the top of her mound with every small shift. The gold heels kept her balanced but also kept her locked in place, the height forcing her body into the exact angle he seemed to want. She hated the exposure. She hated the way the air touched every inch of her. She hated that she couldn’t make a sound.

Cody’s fingers traced the full undersides of her breasts, then squeezed them together, feeling the soft give, the weight, the way her nipples brushed his palms. His other hand stayed on her ass, spreading the cheeks slightly, kneading the flesh while he rolled his hips in slow, deliberate circles. The friction of his clothed cock against her bare skin was thick and constant. He could feel the heat of her, the smooth curve of her hips, the way her body had nowhere to go but against him.

She let him.

She had no choice that wouldn’t risk the door opening.

His hands kept moving—cupping, squeezing, stroking—mapping every bare curve the gold dress had hidden only minutes before. One palm full of her tit, fingers pinching the nipple; the other openly groping her naked ass, pulling her tighter so the hard length of him rubbed steadily between her thighs. The closet stayed dark and close and reeking of sweat. Emily stood in nothing but her heels, body rigid with discomfort, while Cody’s hands continued to explore every soft, exposed inch of her without pause.