It’s been both heaven and hell to have Hannah and Jessie staying in my penthouse over the last four days. Heaven, because Hannah plays the part of my fiancée perfectly—charming the Kohs, making my suite feel like an actual home, allowing me liberties to touch her, protect her, kiss her, hold her… she’s taken her little sister’s advice to heart and looks at me at all times like I hung the moon, acting utterly convincing in the role of my soon-to-be blushing bride.

Which has been hell, because of course I want more. I want to keep Hannah. I want to fuck her. I want to know where the line is between her “job” and real feelings.

But today, I’ll settle for spoiling her.

“What’s all this?” Hannah asks as she returns to our suite from seeing Jessie off to school. Her bright blue eyes go wide as she takes in the group of personal shoppers I hired and their bounty. Wheeled hanging racks of designer clothing. Stacked boxes containing shoes and handbags. Other things I’m not sure what to call but that the head shopper assured me my fiancée needed.

I grin, leaning back on the plush couch as I take in Hannah’s slim form. She’s stunning, but her personal wardrobe and the rest of her belongings are… modest. And I want to see her shine the way she deserves.

“I asked these ladies to pick up a few things for you, sweetheart,” I tell her, the endearment slipping easily off my tongue after the last few days together. “I want you to be prepared for the Christmas party in a few weeks, and I thought you could pick out some other things for day-to-day wear, too.”

My smile widens in anticipation of her delight—don’t all women love presents, clothing, and shopping?—but to my shock, I get a far different reaction.

Hannah goes still, that natural light she always carries within her dimming a little. “Thank you, Luke,” she says after a moment, giving me one of those waitress-smiles that doesn’t reach her eyes.

My Hannah isn’t happy. She’s gone stiff and distant, and I’m not quite sure what I screwed up.

“Oh, Miss Hannah! Just look at you!” the head shopper gushes, rushing over to where Hannah is standing and turning her bodily, this way and that. “Your man has told us all about you, and what a gorgeous figure! We’re going to have so much fun! I’m sure we’ll find something you like, dear.”

Hannah gives the woman that mask of a smile that’s making my stomach sour. “Thank you,” she says, sounding subdued. “Please show me whatever you’d like me to try on. As long as my fiancé approves, I’m sure anything will be fine.”

I blink. “I don’t need to approve, sweetheart. You’re welcome to keep all of it. Whatever you—”

“I’ll wear whatever you like, Luke,” Hannah interrupts. “My job as your fiancée is to make you happy, isn’t it?”

The slight emphasis she puts on the word job has me frowning, and it suddenly clicks. That’s what I screwed up. She doesn’t feel spoiled as I intended. She feels obligated. She thinks I’m ashamed of having her on my arm unless I dress her up.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Thankfully, the shoppers take Hannah’s comment an entirely different way, and a sea of “awwws” sound from them as they swarm around her. They don’t ask me to leave the room, apparently assuming that because of our engagement, Hannah will be comfortable changing clothes in front of me, and without further ado, they strip her down like a Barbie doll and pull a rolling rack of cocktail dresses over.

Hannah’s cold veneer cracks, and her eyes dart to me with some life finally back in them, thank fucking God. She blushes, and that addictive pink color travels from her cheeks down the slender line of her throat, the color spreading across her chest and over the tops of the firm, full breasts that peek out from the top of her simple white bra.

I hold her gaze, my own heating as the delectable sight of her in nothing but her virginal bra and panties makes my cock harden. She’s allowed me liberties, yes, but nothing inappropriate for public display. It’s the first time I’ve seen her like this.

I should leave.

I don’t.

“Oh, goodness,” the head shopper says, clucking her tongue in dismay as she plucks at the plain cotton covering my Hannah’s lush breasts.

Hannah’s hands instantly fly up to cover herself, but the head shopper brushes them away, tsking as she shakes her head.

“No, no, no, dear,” the woman says. “This will never do. You just admitted you want to keep your man happy, Miss Hannah, and this…” She sighs sadly, then straightens and turns to her assistant with a determined look on her face. “We’re doing lingerie before cocktail dresses. Now, Emmaline. You can see the situation is dire.”

Her assistant nods and immediately scrambles for a pile of boxes, lace and satin spilling out of them as she pulls out tiny scraps of things that I’m entirely sure will look stunning on Hannah.

Hannah’s eyes widen with the delight I’d been hoping for earlier and my blood heats to a boil when a small gasp of pure want falls from her lips.

She immediately snaps her mouth closed and sends me a guilty look. “I… I don’t need anything pretty underneath,” she says. “Those look expensive, and really, the new clothes are just for show. As long as I look good for the party, I don’t need—”

“Nonsense,” the head shopper interrupts at the same time as I speak.

“Of course you need them, sweetheart,” I tell her, rising from the couch. “I want to see you in everything they’ve brought.”

I pluck a random bit of something decadent-feeling out of the assistant’s hands, my eyes trained on Hannah.

“This,” I tell my girl, holding the silken scrap up. It’s sheer—a pale, blushing pink color—and looks like a cross between a barely-there bra and an incredibly short dress. I have no idea what it is, but I like it… and I suspect I’ll like it even more if Hannah is willing to wear it.

The head shopper thrusts a matching bit of silk into my hand. “Yes. You have excellent taste, Mr. Masters. That babydoll will look incredible on her. Here’s the matching thong.”

“You… you want me to put that on?” Hannah asks, her nipples pebbling through the chaste material of her white bra as she looks up at me. Her voice takes on that breathless quality I adore. “For… for you?”

I might have worried about her being uncomfortable while on display for me like this, but her reactions are unmistakable. Yes, there’s the shyness of inexperience, but along with it is an underlying desire to please me, and I can sense that Hannah is enjoying the moment of naughtiness between us as much as I am.

My smile spreads slowly, an expression I couldn’t have stopped if I tried. “Yes, Hannah. I want you to put that on for me.”

“Okay,” Hannah breathes out, still staring into my eyes.

The shopper’s assistant reaches for the strap of Hannah’s bra, slipping it off her shoulder. “Should I—”

Her boss slaps her hand away. “Don’t be silly, Emmaline. I’m sure Mr. Masters will want to help his fiancée with that personally.” She winks at me. “We’ll just wait down in the lobby while the two of you look through the lingerie.”

Before I know it, the woman hustles her people out the door and I’m left alone with a scantily clad girl that I’ve been drawn to from the first moment I saw her, a few scraps of lace, and a raging hard-on.

Hannah breaks the silence. “She said you would… would help me?” She bites her lip, worrying it with her teeth, then whispers, “I’ve never worn anything like this before.”

“I’m happy to help,” I reply, my voice dropping low with arousal. Her words weren’t exactly a question, but my cock considers them an invitation. Hannah nods, but doesn’t otherwise move, so I take charge. “Take your bra off, sweetheart, and I’ll slip this on you.”

I hold up the pink silk.

Hannah’s blush burns even brighter, but now that she has a clear order to follow, she complies instantly.

“I really do want to make you happy, Luke,” she whispers, holding my gaze as she slips the bra off.

She’s embarrassed.

She’s also aroused.

She’s incredible.

Small tremors of tension move through her body as she displays herself before me, but she doesn’t move to cover herself. She wants me to see, my naughty little innocent.

“So beautiful,” I whisper, my palms itching to cup her breasts. I want to brush my thumbs over the pale pink nubs that tighten at their center. I want to taste them. I want to make her moan. Instead, I slip the garment that the shopper called a “babydoll” over Hannah’s head, and she shivers, a delicious gasp escaping her lips as the feather-light material falls in a cascade down over her body.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, since it bears repeating. The babydoll both hides and reveals her. It’s sweet and demure and sexy as sin… just like my Hannah.

“It feels so good,” she says, her eyelids dropping to half-mast as she runs her hands over the almost transparent material, molding it to her body in what I can tell is an unconsciously erotic gesture. And then she does moan, making my cock throb, before snapping her eyes wide again with embarrassment and blushing even harder. “I’m… I’m sorry, Luke. I’ve just never worn anything like this.”

That fierce possessiveness she inspires in me makes me want to growl in satisfaction. I’m giving her this sensual erotic moment. The first to do so. The only one to do so.

I have no doubt that it’s true. I’m the only one to see her like this, and if I have my way, I’m the only one who ever will.

“You like it,” I say with satisfaction.

Not a question.

Hannah looks up at me shyly, her lips curving up in an impish smile. “It’s a little different from the uniform I wore at my last job.”

I laugh, but the “job” comment rankles. “These clothes are yours, sweetheart,” I tell her, tipping her chin up and skimming my thumb over her tempting mouth. “They’re not a uniform, they’re a gift.”

She nods, but I can see she doesn’t fully believe me.

“Thank you, Luke, but I know my real wardrobe isn’t really appropriate for my position as your fiancée.” She swallows, looking embarrassed, then rushes to add, “I mean your pretend fiancée, of course.”

“Hannah,” I groan, releasing her chin and letting my hand smooth the silk down the side of her tempting body. She shivers, and I slide my palm around to the low curve in her spine, pulling her against me. “Anything you wear is appropriate, simply because you’re the one wearing it. I’m not marrying the clothes, I’m marrying you.”

“Pretend marrying,” she whispers, bracing her hands against my chest but not pulling away.

“You could be wearing anything or nothing. Either way, you would be perfect for me,” I tell her without acknowledging the “pretend” comment. “You are perfect for me, Hannah. You’re beautiful, sweetheart, and I only want to give you these clothes to make you feel that way.”

A little gasp escapes her as her eyes go wide, and I think I’ve gotten through to her when she starts melting against me in that addicting way she does. There’s no way she can mistake the hard outline of my cock, pressing against her barely-clad stomach, but she only presses against me all the closer. Heat floods through me at the evidence that my arousal isn’t scaring her away, but then her body stiffens again, and I wonder if I was wrong.

Her next words tell me that it’s not, though.

“For my job,” she says almost under her breath, sounding like she’s reminding herself. And then a little louder, looking back up at me: “You want me to feel beautiful as part of my job.”

I let my hand slip lower, cupping her bottom, and slide my leg between her bare thighs. I can feel her most intimate heat throbbing, and her breath hitches as I rock her toward me, pressing my leg more firmly against that heat.

“No,” I tell her with a wicked smile. “Not for your job, Hannah.”

I lean in slowly, and I can tell by the way her eyes widen that she thinks I’m about to kiss her. That she wants me to.

I want it, too.

Instead, I press the tiny pink thong I’m still holding into one of her hands and whisper in her ear, “Now be a good girl and finish putting this on.”

Hannah trembles against me, her thighs clenching hard around my leg, and the breathy little moan that slips out of her mouth has me wanting to strip her panties off myself, throw her down, and finally find out just how good it feels to sink into that sweet, wet heat she’s got grinding against my thigh right now. I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it. In fact, I’m almost entirely certain she’s still a virgin… which is just about the only thing that holds me back.

“Hannah,” I say, her name coming out more like a growl. “Are you going to put this thong on so I can see just how beautiful it looks on you?”

She nods, her lips falling open on another cock-hardening gasp as my hand squeezes her ass to encourage the way she’s rocking herself on my thigh.

“Do you need my help, sweetheart? Do you want me to take your panties off for you? Slip these sexy ones up over your mound? Smooth them into place with my hand?”

“Luke,” she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “I… I… oh my God. I feel… I need… I’ve never—”

Her voice is rising in pitch, her motion against me getting almost frantic, and she’s so fucking sexy that I’m in serious danger of coming in my pants like a horny teenager.

I rein myself in.

“I know you haven’t,” I grit out when her words trail off in another needy gasp. I knead the sweet curves of her ass. “But you said you wanted to make me happy, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

She moans, and I drop the thong along with all pretense of doing anything other than this. Driving her wild. Showing her just how good it feels to be mine.

I lift her against me until her feet leave the floor and I’m supporting her completely, then I grind my cock against her soft body as she clamps her legs around my thigh tightly, sinfully erotic sounds falling from her lips.

I lean down to whisper in her ear again. “Answer me, Hannah,” I demand, just to hear her say it.

“Y-y-yes,” she stutters. “Luke… yes. Oh, please. Tell me… tell me how to… to do what you want. To be good for you. I want… want you to be h-h-happy.”

“And I want to make you happy, too, sweetheart. I want to make you feel incredible, Hannah. Will you let me?”

“Please,” she breathes, letting her head fall backward and giving herself to me completely. “Oh, Luke. Yes, p-p-please.”

I slip my fingers underneath her white cotton panties, groaning at the slick wetness I find there. “Have you ever done this before, sweetheart?”

She shakes her head, pupils blown. Then bites her lip and gives me a jerky nod. “Not with anyone else, but I… I… I’ve touched myself,” she whispers, her cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of pink. “I’ve… I’ve…”

I can tell she can’t say it.

“You’ve made yourself come?”

She nods, and I push a finger into her, hissing with pleasure as her heat engulfs me.

Oh fucking hell, she’s so tight.

Hannah cries out, legs clamping around my leg like a vice and hot channel pulsing around my finger the way I long to feel it do around my cock.

“Luke.”

“Did you make yourself feel good like this before, sweetheart?” I ask, adding another finger and then thrusting them both in and out of her. I tease her wet folds. I let her take her pleasure against my body as she rocks and moans and holds onto me like she’ll shatter if she lets go. “Did you make yourself this wet? Did you enjoy it? Are you going to come for me now?”

She whimpers, nodding. Panting. Clutching onto me and so lost in her pleasure that she can’t answer.

So I make it an order.

“Come, Hannah. Now. Be good for me like you want to, babydoll. Come.”

She screams my name and obeys, finally shattering against me. Flooding my palm with her honey essence. Wrapping herself around my body as her cry draws out into a long, soft moan that is the single sexiest sound I’ve ever heard in my life.

She’s shaking, trusting me completely. I support her slight weight, holding her against me and stroking her slick heat through her orgasm, selfishly doing everything I can to extend her pleasure. Selfish, because for the first time in my life, someone else’s pleasure is my pleasure. I haven’t come yet and my cock is so hard it hurts, but all I want is this.

More of those sweet cries.

More of her trembling pleasure.

More Hannah.

More of what’s mine.

So when she finally lifts her beautiful face from where she’s tucked it against my neck—cheeks blushing a furious pink and sweet mouth trembling and uncertain—and meets my eyes, I take everything I want. I capture her lips with mine. I carry her over to the couch and lay her out on it and finally strip her soaked white panties off. I push aside silk and lace to tease those nipples she tempts me with until she’s back to begging, and then I use my lips and tongue and hands to make her come again.

And again.

And finally, again.

I’ll fuck her another day. Take her virginity when I know for sure she’s offering by choice. When she begs me to do it. When she’s ready to give herself to me completely.

When I ask her to give herself to me forever.