Borrowed Billionaire #2 Lexie Goes Shopping (3 page)

“You bad girl, Teisha,” I said.

She held one manicured finger to her lips. “Don't tell.”

I zipped my lips. “Your secret's safe with me.”

I took one more look over at the cubby under the counter and imagined Mr. Hubert, Mr. Silver Fox, folded up in there like a caged animal, his head under a skirt, going to town on Teisha's juicy peach. I glanced down at the lollipops in my purse. Lollipops weren't going to cut it, not after the hot story she told me. I wondered if it was true, or just the product of her imagination. Teisha didn't strike me as a liar, but … Mrs. Hubert's rules seemed
too good to be true. 

When the Huberts came back over, he swatted her on the butt. From the smell of it, she'd gotten him good with the cologne. I could have smelled him a mile away, but the cologne was nice—musky and sweet, not overpowering.

He said, “Teisha, thank you for everything.”

She flushed red and nodded mutely.

So, it was true.

And if it was true, how was I going to get his silver fox face between my own legs? I was more than ready for it. As I browsed the clothing racks with Mrs. Hubert, picking out green garments that complemented her pale skin, I was burning up with fever for something belonging to a man, be it juicy cock or wet tongue.

She grabbed a gauzey red dress and said, “How about this?”

Mr. Hubert was already sitting on a chair nearby, looking at something on his phone. The way he held the phone made me think he was using it to take photos of me. I posed at a saucy angle for his lens, sicking out my butt and chest.

“Not sure if that's your best color,” I said to Mrs. Hubert. She seemed like a nice enough lady, and I was being paid for my help, so I figured I ought to be honest. “A few shades lighter and you'd be good, but that burgundy will wash you out.”

She frowned at the dress. “It would look great on you.” She thrust the dress at my chest. “You try it on!”

I surreptitiously took a glance at the price tag. It was twice what I'd be getting paid for today's private shopping session. No. No way. “I'm not here for me,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “You're not marrying the dress. Just try it on while I'm trying on my things. I'm going to be in the changing room for a long time.” She glanced over at Mr. Hubert and gave me a sly smile. “Besides, you need some excuse to go into the change rooms.”

Was she pimping me out to her husband? She was, I knew it. My little passionflower lit up inside my panties. I thought having him look at me was hot, but having her push us together was even more delicious. My lady cave started to ache. If my pussy had a voice, it would have been whimpering, begging for some juicy loving.

“Sure,” I said, accepting the red dress, which was just my size. The fabric was incredible, so soft and strong, like the skin of a certain organ.

Another pair of sales clerks fluttered around us, finding more suits and tops for Mrs. Hubert to try on, and soon, we were being whisked back to the changing rooms, at the back of the store.

Rich people really know how to live! And shop!

The changing room entrance was like a luxury suite compared to the places I shopped at. The entry had comfortable sofas for the gentlemen, and the actual changing rooms were spacious and completely outfitted with mirrors, as well as a tall bench. Usually change rooms have those awkward low benches you feel like you're squatting on when you sit down, but this bench was pure elegance. I hung the one red dress on a hanger inside my room, then went to check on Mrs. Hubert, making sure her needs were being met.

“I like to try on everything twice,” she said, removing her jacket as I stood inside the small room with her.

“You're going to do great, you have a rockin' body,” I said, and I wasn't lying. She had a tiny little waist, and really nice breasts. They looked like they cost a fortune.

She glanced down. “I should have stuck to the B-cups. These puppies are hard to fit into designer lines.”

“You are one hot lady,” I said.

“So are you.”

I wanted to ask her something, but I wasn't sure what.
Mind if I get off on your husband?
No. I couldn't ask.

As though she could read my mind, she said, “Lexie, can you do me a favor?”

She unbuttoned her shirt and I wondered, with a tiny note of terror, if she wanted me to do stuff to her! 

I gulped, hard. She was a really hot lady, and if I was going to indulge my bisexual curiosity, I supposed doing it with her would be as good as anyone. “Anything,” I said, almost meaning it.

“I like to take my time trying on clothes.” She slipped off her blouse and started to unfasten her gorgeous slacks. “Can you keep Mr. Hubert entertained?”

I gave her a sidelong look. “What do you mean … exactly?”

“Entertain him. He's allowed to have as much fun as he wants, but he's not permitted to touch the flesh of another woman with his cock.”

“What about the balls?”

She smiled. “Sure, you can play with his balls. Like I said, I like to take my time, and I don't need help shopping so much as I need a hand … husband-sitting.”

Just then, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see the fair-skinned girl from the makeup counter, the redhead, standing behind me.

I backed out of the change room and the redhead took my place.

Ahh, so that was how it was.

I looked around the large chamber for Mr. Hubert, but he was nowhere to be found. I felt a twinge of disappointment and annoyance. He'd already gone off and found Teisha, I figured. He was probably under the counter, eating her juicy peach right that moment.

I sighed heavily and wondered what the billionaire I'd seen the day before, Mr. Thorne, was up to. 

Damnit, but I needed some cheering up. I went into my changing room, determined to put on that red dress, and if it looked good, I was going to buy it for myself. To hell with my bills and my plans for starting a business. I needed to start treating myself right.

There was someone in my changing room.

I startled and held my hand to my mouth, my heart pounding.

Mr. Hubert, the silver fox, was inside the change room, sitting on the tall bench. He loosened his tie and said, “Does kitty want to play?”

My heart was still pounding, but I didn't feel it in my neck and chest anymore. All my blood flow diverted to my pussy, which began to throb.

I clicked the changing room door closed behind me. We were alone together, in private. Well, sorta in private. People were milling around on the other side of the door, coming and going.

I said, quietly, “What did you have in mind? Wanna help me try on this dress?”

He grinned. “That's what I'm here for.” He grabbed me by the waistband of my cheap, navy-blue skirt and pulled me close to him. His legs were parted and I stood within the space between his legs. He still smelled strongly of the cologne he'd been doused with, and it was intoxicating, like two glasses of wine straight to my head.

My legs shook from nervousness as he gently undid all the pearl buttons down the front of my blouse.

His hands were smooth, his fingers long.

When my blouse was undone, he ran his hands below the edge of my bra, stroking my sides and then running a finger up and down my center, pausing to play briefly around my navel.

“You like to take your time,” I said, thinking of what Mrs. Hubert had also said.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue up along my stomach as an answer.

I shivered at the touch of his wet tongue.

If we'd been naked already, I would have thrown myself desperately at him, but we weren't.

I could hear other people on the other side of the door, other women talking to the sales girls about clothes. 

“Do you have this in a size six?” some woman said, at the same time as Mr. Hubert reached up under my loose-fitting skirt and rubbed the tops of my thighs.

The salesgirl said, “You're a size six? No way, you're a four, you tiny thing!”

The woman giggled.

As I was distracted by the conversation, Mr. Hubert roughly turned me around and pulled my ass down against his crotch.

He was so hard down there, inside his pants, and I hadn't even noticed! 

I hiked up my skirt so I could feel him against my skin and through my panties, but he still had his pants on. I rubbed myself on the rising lump that was his manhood, restricted inside his pants.

He moaned, almost inaudibly. The ladies getting changed in the adjacent rooms wouldn't have heard him, but I did, and I loved it. I wanted to hear him moan, louder, even. I wanted us to get caught. I wanted some old lady with a tiny, yappy purse dog to yank open our change room door and shriek in horror just as Mr. Hubert's cock exploded all over the interior of the room.

I rocked my hips and rubbed myself on him, angling my torso to the side so I could get a glimpse of his face behind me, in the mirror.

Just as we made eye contact, he reached up with something, sticking it against my mouth. It was one of my lollipops, that he'd pulled out of my purse. The green one. I opened my mouth and took it in, closing my eyes to show him how much I liked it.

After a few moments of grinding like this, I turned around and faced him, still sucking the lollipop. I took my blouse the rest of the way off and hung it from a hook so it didn't get rumpled on the floor.

He pointed to the bra, so I removed that next.

His eyes lit up. As he admired my breasts, I did too.

Unlike Mrs. Hubert's, mine were natural, and they were … in a word, spectacular. The gorgeous soft lighting inside the high-end change room made them look like million dollar babies. I wanted to stick them in my own mouth, but Mr. Hubert pulled me toward him and he gently sucked on one and then the other, flicking my nipples with a very skilled tongue.

He took a break to kiss me, once, and I passed the green lollipop over to him, with my tongue. It clacked against his teeth as he accepted it.

My hand ran down his chest, then back up to loosen his tie further and undo his dress shirt. He leaned forward and allowed me to pull off his suit jacket and hang it on a wooden hanger inside the room. He let me remove his tie and then his shirt. His shirt was off-the-rack, not custom-made like Mr. Thorne's shirts, but it was still a luxurious, crisp cotton. I hung it from the hook, over top of my own cream-colored blouse. He was in his dress pants, and I was in my skirt, which was now bunched up around my waist, like an awkward fabric belt. I stepped back and slipped out of my skirt, so I was down to just my panties, a modest white cotton pair.

He said, around the green lollipop in his mouth, “White cotton?”

“I'm a good girl,” I said. “Why, do I look like the type to wear slutty underwear?”

“I guess not,” he said.

I moved to kneel down then, licking his hard little nipples and then running my tongue through the downy silver hair leading down to his treasure.

I used one hand to massage his cock through his pants. It felt thick, and even thicker through the fabric.

“I understand there are rules,” I said.

He nodded, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He took the lollipop out of his mouth and said, “Just one rule.”

I tried my best to stroke his member with my hand, through the pants, as I licked and sucked at delicious spots on his torso. His cock got harder and harder in my hand.

I stood in front of him, leaning forward, then grabbed one of his hands, which had been holding the wet green lollipop. I licked and sucked on the lollipop in his hand. “So sweet,” I said around the candy. “I wish I had something more substantial to put in my mouth.”

He moved his other hand to my white cotton panties and slipped his fingers into them, and then paused as his fingertips made contact with my hot, wet skin.

“Never mind that,” he said. “How about we switch spots?”

I agreed and switched with him, taking his spot seated on the tall bench, keeping the green lollipop in my mouth. I was enjoying the combination: green apple sweetness in my mouth, his sexy cologne and body scent in my nose, the sound of ladies shopping for clothes all around us, and his long fingers running in the wild waterpark in my panties. He pulled my cotton panties off so roughly, I heard one of the seams tear.

“Sorry,” he said, looking sheepish.

“I'll buy more,” I said.

He knelt before me.

I was completely naked now, and I saw myself in the changing room mirror across from me. I looked like a hot porn star, flushed with passion  and pink all over. I held my knees together meekly, afraid of seeing my own pussy in the mirror.

He grabbed me by the knees and made eye contact. His silver-blue eyes were kind and yet also devilish. Oh dear! What had I gotten myself into!

He forcefully pulled my legs apart and dove at me with his face, devouring my aching pussy. I came immediately, sucking hard on the green lollipop in my mouth to keep from crying out. He slipped one finger and then two fingers in to enjoy the sensation of my walls shuddering from my pleasure.

He leaned back and looked up at me with surprise on his face. “That was all me?” he asked.

I nodded. “You did that to me.”

He looked like a guy who'd just discovered something magical. “I'm going to do it again,” he said, and he dove back at my quivering mound.

I arched my back. I'd been sliding down that mountain, post-climax, but with a few quick flicks of his tongue, he reversed my direction and sent me climbing back up again. I'd never experienced multiple orgasms before, but Suzanne had told me about the experiments she'd done with her husband, before they got all boring and married. The key was to not come down, but keep driving up, up to the next peak.

Mr. Hubert got more comfortable, throwing both of my legs over his shoulders, and leaning into it, giving his lips and tongue a little more power. Power! He was like a power tool, banging away at my clit like the Energizer bunny.

I ran one hand over his silver hair, softly, so as not to distract him from what he was doing. We'd never been together, and he didn't know me at all, and yet, he was doing everything exactly right.

He still had one finger, maybe two, inside me, and was gently stroking my walls, crooking his finger occasionally in a come hither gesture.