Lexie, I was all too aware when she was with me. But at some point I’ve gotten used to having her by my side—she’s become a constant, an extension of me. And I’m realizing now that having her with me is the only things that feels right. So when it’s time to go pick up my suit from my tailor here in Chicago, I bring Lexie with me.
She’s changed out of her scrubs into a girly outfit. She called it a romper, which is apparently something that looks exactly like one of her sundresses but isn’t. This one has pockets, something she gets very excited about every time she remembers. Even now as we stand in the store where I buy my custom suits, Lexie’s hands keep finding her pockets as she looks around.
My phone beeps in my hand with a text from Liam. He’s found a lead on who’s behind the shell companies in Columbia. If we can find that person, we can get answers about which freighter the shipment of girls will be on.
The sound of dress shoes clicking on the floor announces my tailor’s arrival, pulling my focus back to my current surroundings.
“Your suit, Mr. Russo.” Walter presents the sleek black garment bag. “To your exact specifications, as usual.” He insists on addressing me so formally, even after all these years—and my periodic reminders to call me by my first name.
Walter is a true gentleman, one of the last of his kind. Walter takes his profession seriously, a master at his craft. Anyone coming into this store simply sees him as a distinguished sales clerk at a designer clothing store, but he’s the best in the business. The only man I trust to clothe me, both for my reputation and my comfort. There’s nothing more powerful than a properly fitted suit to make an impression.
“Thank you, Walter,” I say, without accepting the garment bag. We came for more than just my suit. “Just leave it up front for me.”
“Would you like to try it on?” He asks me this question every time, and my answer remains the same with each visit.
“No need, I’m sure your work is as impeccable as ever.” Walter’s measurements are unmatched, his ability to custom fit a suit with only one consultation is impressive even by my standards. Finding suits that fit properly as a man my size is practically impossible without several rounds of tailoring, and Walter’s attention to detail is what makes for the perfect fit.
“Is there something else I can help you with?” Walter’s eyebrows raise. He’s got a good poker face with the practiced amiable smile of a salesman. But I can see the surprise on his face, this isn’t protocol for me—I’m usually in and out, taking as little time to run this errand as possible. But not today.
“We’re going to do some shopping,” I say. Walter’s eyes light with understanding when his focus moves to where Lexie stands admiring the silk tie selection, clearly not paying attention to our conversation. His gaze cuts to me briefly in curiosity, far too professional to say what’s on his mind, and written all over his face. I’ve never brought anyone with me on my many trips to see him before, even after all these years. So who is she? Feeling our eyes, Lexie turns to look between us expectantly.
“Lexie, this is Walter. He makes the best suits in the country.”
“Nice to meet you, Walter.” The smile Lexie offers is full of her usual warmth.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss.” Walter smiles back politely, his eyes scanning Lexie thoughtfully. The way he’s looking at her body, taking in every inch intently, would make me want to snap anyone else’s neck. Fortunately for him, I know exactly what Walter’s really looking at—it’s one of the reasons I come to him, why I brought her here. He’s looking at her proportions, measurement, and body type. His gaze is analytical, calculating in inches and centimeters.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with,” Walter says, nodding before turning to bring my suit back to the checkout counter. Lexie follows me away from the men’s clothes to the women’s section. Rows and rows of designer dresses, skirts, and tops. Lexie’s eyes never stop moving, fascinated at the array of pretty things surrounding her. But her focus never lands on anything in particular, missing the point of why I brought her here. Stepping behind her, the light scent of her perfume wafts towards me when I lean closer.
She always smells so good.
“Take a look around.”
“For what?” She doesn’t get it, something I wasn’t expecting. For someone who loves all things pretty and girly, she seems to be having a hard time grasping a simple concept like shopping. For some reason, it never even occurred to Lexie that we’re here to find something for her.
“We’re going to a party, you need a dress.” The statement is simple, but she frowns at me.
“A place like this won’t have my size. I can just wear one of the dresses I already have.” She’s so certain. I guess that explains her lack of interest—she never expected to walk out of here with something that fits her deliciously full body. She’s wrong.
“Take a look around, Dewdrop,” I repeat.
“What size are we looking for?” Walter asks brightly as he approaches.
“I’m usually an 18/20 or a 2XL, sometimes bigger. Way too big for these brands,” she says, sifting through the hangers of a rack and letting her hand fall in defeat. Her eyes look around, but I can tell that each dress she looks at she’s not really seeing. She’s given up before even trying, just assuming I would take her somewhere she can’t shop. It makes me angry.
Little does she know, I chose this place because I know they can provide just what she needs.
“I’ll pull a few options for you,” Walter says, excusing himself. Lexie watches him go, her usual enthusiasm missing.
“I’m too big. Nothing here is going to fit me, nothing ever really fits me,” she grumbles, toying with a dress as she walks by a display. “Fat bodies don’t work for designer and high fashion. There’s really no point in trying. I mean, look at these rolls. They’re not gonna fit into anything sold here.”
Fed up, I grab her arm and pull her until my chest is pressed up against her back, my mouth to her ear. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll take you into the dressing room and show you exactly what fits with this beautiful body of yours.”
“Cal.” My name on her lips comes out breathless, sending pure lust rippling through me. It’s taking everything in me not to make good on my word and drag her into the fitting room.
“I always know exactly what you need, Dewdrop.” Her breath hitches in her chest. If I don’t step back right now, I’ll end up fucking her right here against the display window. “We’re not leaving here until you’ve tried on a dress. Stop putting yourself down and start looking. Really looking.”
When I back away Lexie acquiesces, even if it’s reluctantly. Her energy is still lacking, but at least now when she slides a hanger on a rack she’s actually looking at what’s hanging from it.
Going through a few of the racks, Lexie pulls out a light blue dress. Even just holding it up, I can tell the color would be perfect against her skin. The urge to see it on her hits me in the chest, making me insist that it’s the first dress to bring to the fitting room. Walter approaches with a rolling rack full of options in various styles, fabrics, and colors. I stand and watch as he holds up two dresses at a time for Lexie to approve or veto while he gets a sense of her taste. When they reach the last dress on the rack, there are multiple options selected for the dressing room to be tried on.
Even with a selection in her size, Lexie eyes the collection of garments with skepticism. Like she can’t allow herself to get her hopes up, despite her options. Each half smile cements my determination to provide for her, earn back the radiant smile she usually gives readily.
“Fitting rooms are right this way.” My hand on the small of Lexie’s back firmly leads her to follow Walter through the store to the luxury fitting area. The row of smaller rooms curtained off with heavy cream curtains looks out to a deluxe seating area with sofas, arm chairs and glasses with the option of champagne or wine.
Even in her gloom, Lexie’s focus latches onto each detail around her as she takes in every part of the first-class treatment I’ve grown accustomed to. Something I plan for her to grow accustomed to from today on.
“I’ll just leave these in here for you,” Walter says, hanging the haul carefully on the hooks in the largest of the dressing rooms. “Is there anything else I can bring you? Champagne, wine?” He stands diligently by the door, hands folded in front of him.
“Actually, do you have moun—” I cut off Lexie’s request for mountain dew before she has a chance to finish the thought, speaking over her instead.
“We’ll both take some ice water.” Turning to give the attendant a nod. “Thank you, Walter.”
“Of course, Mr. Russo.” Walter bows courteously. “I’ll bring that right away.
“That was rude,” she mumbles, her delivery lacking its usual sting. Eyes catching on the clothes waiting for her, she begins twisting the ring on her middle finger.
“They don’t have that shit here.” What’s meant to be teasing, an attempt to wind her up, comes out sounding irritated and condescending instead. I take a step closer to her.
“How do you know, have you asked them?”
“You’re stalling.”
“You’re bossy.” When she turns away from me, I can’t help but grasp her neck to pull her back in. And she lets me, without bothering to resist. Never in a million years did I think I’d miss her defiance, but I fucking do.
“You bet I am.” I use my hand on her neck to tilt her head back, bringing her lips closer to mine. She gazes up at me, her breasts pressing against my chest with each breath. Those big blue eyes flicker to my mouth, sending a wave of lust straight to my dick. Lowering my head, I take her mouth in a kiss, drinking her in. She tastes so sweet, and lush.
Peaches and cream.
Her hands slide up my chest to clasp around my neck.
She’s been disturbingly subdued this whole trip, this smart mouth of hers too quiet and polite. The unease of shopping in a bigger body has dampened her spark, and I can’t help but miss it. Each comment I make that goes without one of her witty remarks or a one-liner paired with a saucy smile, digs under my skin and weighs heavy on my chest like a stack of bricks. This isn’t the Lexie that’s blazed into my life and chipped away at my control with her pretty pink nails until she’s wedged herself permanently in my head. I want her smile to go back to its blinding megawatt status.
“Take off your clothes,” I order against her lips. She lets out a breathy laugh, and one of the bricks falls from my chest.
“Nice try, Russo,” she says between kisses. “I’m sure a place like this frowns upon fucking in the dressing rooms. I’d hate to get you kicked out of your favorite store, Walter would be so disappointed.”
There she is.
I can’t help but laugh, amusement flooding through me. “I’m going to be inside that perfect pussy of yours again soon, Dewdrop.” My hand slides down to palm her round ass greedily, making her gasp softly against my lips. “But right now you have dresses to try on.”
“You can’t be serious.” She leans back to look up at me, her expression questioning my sanity.
“I’m always serious,” I state, pressing one last lingering kiss to her lips. Untangling my hand from her hair, I step back. The defiance that flashes across her face tells me she’s about to protest, so I cut her off as I back out of the room. “Start with the blue one.”
Closing the curtain behind me, I take a seat on the sofa facing her fitting room. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s glaring at the closed curtain wrestling between the idea of telling me to go to hell or just trying on the dresses to get this over with. I’ll gladly take either option. One way or another, she’s putting each of those dresses on her body before we leave here.
It takes a few minutes before I can hear Lexie moving around, and fabric rustling. Her voice carries out to me, only a few of her words meant for me as she speaks.
“It’s so pretty, this color is stunning,” she gushes, making me grin. Her appreciation for anything pretty or sparkly never gets old, it fuels my enjoyment more than I could enjoy something on my own. “Ugh, it doesn’t fit. These damn boobs,” she grumbles.
“Come out and show me.”
“It won’t zip, my boobs are too big.”
“Let me see, Lexie.” I can hear her disgruntled exhale, but the heavy curtain is being pulled aside. The powder blue silk dress fits her like a second skin, accentuating her dramatic curves. The elegant hem ends just above her knee with a generous slit up one thigh, webbed with delicate chains dotted with pearls. She holds the top to her chest, her breasts on full display with the open sweetheart neckline that leads to the off the shoulder sleeves made of tulle, dotted with the same tiny pearls. The soft blue color matches her eyes, enhancing luxurious long blonde hair and that peaches and cream skin that always smells incredible. She looks absolutely stunning, even without the dress zipping all the way.
“I’m buying you that dress.” I can’t take my eyes off her. Fucking angelic.
“What part of ‘it doesn’t fit, my boobs are too big’ are you not understanding?” she asks, exasperation tinting her tone with attitude. I ignore her, waving Walter over instead. The attendant places the tray of ice water down on the table beside my chair, turning attentively.
“Walter, we want this dress altered. It needs to be ready by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Callum,” Neither of us acknowledge Lexie’s protest. Walter simply nods to me.
“Of course, sir. I’ll send our seamstress, Lauren, in to take her measurements. Are there any other dresses you’d like custom fitted?”
I look over at Lexie, imagining the possibilities. “Not yet, but we’ll have our selection ready for alteration before we leave.” Lexie looks at me curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“Go try on the next dress, I want to see it.”
“You want a fashion show?” Lexie jokes, laughing skeptically. I grin at her, my brows jumping.
“Absolutely. And this time give me a little twirl while you’re at it.” She just shakes her head at me, disappearing behind the curtain. The shuffling inside the dressing room is accompanied by mumbling as Lexie talks to herself.
“This one doesn’t fit right either,” she calls.
“I want to see,” I insist. She steps out, unable to maintain her frown despite her sigh. My eyes run over her, taking my time to admire the emerald green color against her skin.
“It zips, but the top doesn’t fit right.” She gestures to how her breasts spill out of the molded cups of the structured bodice. My gaze roams past her beautiful chest to how the fabric nips in at her waist and skims over the fullness of her hips then flows almost to the floor. I lift a finger and motion for her to spin.
“Where’s my twirl?” She rolls her eyes, but spins for me anyway. I don’t miss how she bites back a smile, and I make no attempt to hide my own. My grin grows as she turns in a circle, giving me a three hundred and sixty degree view of her lush body. “Add that for alterations,” I instruct. “Next dress.”
Five more dresses, five more times she emerges to show me with a twirl. Four of the dresses fit, while one of them is definitely a hard no between design and color. Despite herself, she’s having fun—but not more fun than I’m having. Watching her step out in each dress, getting to see her full figure in different silhouettes, is one of the best times I’ve ever had shopping.
She thrills and gushes over the smallest details, whether it’s the fabric quality or intricate bead work, and her joy is infectious. Making Lexie happy makes me happy.
Lauren, the inhouse seamstress, takes Lexie’s measurements and we hand off two dresses for alterations. Four dresses are boxed up to carry out with us, six dresses total.
Walking out of the store, my hand finds its way around her waist, and I realize I’m nowhere near ready for our shopping trip to be over. I want to see more.
So next comes shoes. Lexie, of course, picks the pairs with the most added details—glitter, rhinestones, bows. Beaming at me over glittery pink stilettos, she says “They’re not really impractical if they make you feel pretty.” A statement I have no intention of arguing with. And damn, does she look pretty in sparkly shoes.
Each pair is the definition of sensual femininity as she puts them on and struts up and down like the aisle is a catwalk. Her little poses and bouts of laughter when she tries on a ridiculous pair just for the hell of it feed my ever growing addiction. I could watch her like this all day, everyday and never get bored. And looking at how many hours have passed, I’ve already started.
Jewelry, handbags, perfume, cosmetics, I try everything I can think of to extend our day together, to keep her laughing. She protests everytime I swipe my credit card, but her frown of disapproval vanishes the instant she’s adding a shopping bag to the growing collection.
Helping her back into the car to head back to the hotel is oddly disappointing. I’ve never liked shopping before, and I still don’t. But shopping for Lexie, is different. I like that.
“I had fun today,” Lexie says. “Thank you, Callum.” The smile on her face is exhilarating, and I want more. She beams and I’m hungry to feel that warmth like an addict jonesing for a hit. If I can keep her smiling like this for the rest of my life, I’ll die a happy man.
“You can thank me properly when we get back to the hotel.”
“Is that why you did all this? So I’ll let you fuck me again, maybe get your cock sucked this time?” She’s curious instead of accusatory. My grip shifts on the steering wheel, tension settling across my shoulders. Her question is simple enough, it’s the answer that’s complicated.
“No.” I don’t bother lying, there’s no point.
“Then why? You hate wasting time and money. Why did you spend so much on me today?”
“For you, it’s never a waste.” The truth is heavy on my chest. I pull my eyes from the road to look at her. There they are again, those messy emotions slowly unraveling my tightly wound control. “I’ll always give you what you need, Dewdrop.”
