Dressing Room Devotion

I watched Skye shave Joe’s face with a reverence that bordered on worship.

The razor glided along his cheek in slow, deliberate strokes, her free hand cradling the back of his neck, fingers tracing lazy circles behind his ear. Her body pressed close; breasts brushing his shoulder, hips angled toward him like a lover stealing a private moment. The intimacy of it was almost unbearable to witness... almost. But Joe never took advantage, never leaned into it, never let his gaze linger too long, still... the air around them crackled anyway.

Cherry and Kayla kept stealing glances too; quick, hungry flickers of the eyes while they worked on Iris and me. Their postures shifted between quiet jealousy and unmistakable pride, as though they were both envious of Skye’s proximity and proud to be part of the same orbit he commanded without even trying.

I wondered if they could sense it; if they somehow knew how vividly I’d imagined them earlier: the three of them naked and slick with sweat, kneeling before him, mouths open, tongues sliding along his shaft, cunts dripping with his thick seed as he took them one after another. The fantasy had been looping in my head since the salon, soaking my panties through. It was a mercy we left when we did. Another five minutes and I would’ve left a wet spot on the leather seats of the recliner.

Later, att the boutique, everything had been pre-arranged by Sabrina.

Private dressing room. Racks of dresses for Iris and me, a separate rack of tailored suits for Joe. Iris had supplied Sabrina with our measurements so everything was already tailor-made. The salespeople hovered just outside, discreet but attentive.

Iris tried on a sleek silver cocktail dress that looked poured over her body; liquid mercury clinging to every curve, the fabric so thin it outlined the perfect swell of her ass and the faint shadow of her nipples when she moved. She caught me staring and gave a slow, teasing spin.

Joe picked a classic black suit; sharp, understated, devastating. He disappeared into the far dressing room to change.

The salespeople were occupied with another client.

The moment was mine.

“Irie…” I whispered, biting my lip hard. My body was already shaking inside the black mini cocktail dress I’d slipped into—naked underneath, just bare skin and the constant, throbbing ache between my legs. “I need a favor.”

Iris’s eyes flicked down to my bare thighs, then back up. She saw the wheels turning.

“Are you kidding?” she hissed, voice low, but her pupils were blown wide.

“Girl, I’ve been dripping for him all day.” I admitted.

She smirked; conspiratorial, wicked; and glanced toward Joe’s dressing room curtain.

“Be quick.”

Quick wasn’t exactly in Joe’s playbook, but I’d been soaked since I waited for him in his office that morning. His fresh cut, the clean lines of his jaw after the shave; he was fucking irresistible, and I was done waiting.

“Have fun,” Iris added, eyes glittering.

I almost; almost; told her to come with me. To slip in behind us, to watch, to touch, to taste him after he’d filled me. The thought made my clit throb so hard I nearly whimpered.

Instead I just smiled, bright and greedy, and slipped through the curtain.

Joe turned at the rustle of fabric, shirtless, black dress slacks half-buttoned. His bare chest; muscled, skin still faintly flushed from the salon steam; made my mouth water instantly.

His eyes widened. “What are you doing?” he whispered, glancing toward the curtain.

I pressed a finger to my lips. “Shhhh.”

Then I hooked my thumbs under the thin straps of the cocktail dress and let it slither to the floor.

Naked.

Nipples tight, skin prickling, pussy already glistening down the insides of my thighs.

“I’ve been wet all day,” I purred, stepping closer. “How about a little quickie?”

He let out a silent, incredulous laugh. “Are you crazy? Iris is right out there.”

I closed the distance, palm flat against the hard plane of his chest, feeling his heartbeat kick up under my fingers.

“Who do you think is our lookout?”

My other hand slid down, under his boxers. cupping the thick, growing ridge of his cock. He was already half-hard; thick enough to make my fingers barely meet around him.

“I don’t know if we should do this,” he murmured, voice rough.

I licked my lips, slow and deliberate.

“Maybe you should tell your friend down there.”

His control snapped.

He pushed me back against the mirrored wall, thecool glass kissing my spine, a small thud echoing in the tiny space. His hands gripped my ass and lifted me like up. My leg wrapped around his waist instinctively; one foot braced on tiptoe against the floor for leverage.

He unzipped in one swift motion. Slacks and boxers shoved down just enough.

His cock sprang free; heavy, veined, flushed dark at the head.

He notched himself at my entrance; wet, swollen, aching; and sank in with one long, slow, devastating thrust.

I bit my lip hard I tasted to keep from crying out. He filled me completely; thick enough to stretch me open, deep enough to press against my cervix in that perfect, aching way.

His hand clamped gently but firmly over my mouth, muffling the **** moan that tried to escape.

Then he started to fuck me.

Steady. Deep. Rolling his hips in that knowing rhythm that dragged every ridge along my front wall, hitting my G-spot with merciless precision on every stroke.

He buried his face in my neck, lips and teeth working the sensitive skin; sucking hard, nipping, leaving marks I’d have to hide tomorrow. His low grunts vibrated against my throat with each powerful thrust.

I could see us in the opposite mirror; his firm ass flexing as he drove into me, my leg hooked high around his waist, breasts bouncing with every slam, my head thrown back against the glass, eyes half-lidded and glassy.

The risk; the curtain only feet away, Iris standing guard, salespeople just beyond; only made it hotter.

My pussy clenched around him, slick and greedy, coating his shaft.

He felt me start to shake. Sensed the orgasm building... and sped up; harder, deeper, hips snapping, cock pistoning in and out.

My eyes crossed, then rolled back as the wave crashed.

I came hard; silent scream muffled against his palm, cunt spasming wildly, milking him in rhythmic pulses.

He didn’t slow.

He fucked me through it until I felt him thicken even more inside me with a low, guttural groan against my neck.

He buried himself to the hilt and came; hot, thick spurts flooding me, overflowing instantly around his shaft and dripping down my thighs.

If anyone walked in right now, there’d be no denying it; his cock still pulsing inside me, my legs trembling, his cum leaking out in slow, creamy trails.

And I didn’t give a damn.

He stayed buried deep for a long moment, both of us breathing ragged, hearts hammering against each other.

Then he kissed me... passionate, loving and possessive.

When he finally pulled out, a thick rope of cum followed, sliding down my inner thigh.

I smiled against his mouth, dazed and blissed-out.

Iris was still out there.

Waiting.

Probably soaked herself by now.

And the night hadn’t even started.