Predator

47

The tight top accentuated Amelia's chest, making her breasts look even more prominent. Liam blew gently, watching the fine hair stand up and the goosebumps rise on her skin.

Just a curtain away, the salespeople chatted happily, and customers came and went, asking about clothes. Cold air seeped into the hall—

"Liam, please, not here."

"Let me... put the dress on first."

"No." Liam glanced at the full-length mirror in the fitting room. "Bend over."

"Or I'll strip you and let everyone outside queue up."

"All you do is threaten women."

Liam grabbed Amelia by the nape and pressed her against the mirror. From her angle, she could see his fingers disappear under her skirt, followed by the sound of a belt unbuckling.

"Not just that," the man retorted, his voice low. "I also know how to fuck them into submission."

As he spoke, he moved deliberately, inserting himself slowly. "Relax."

Liam seized the moment and thrust deeply, driving his hips hard.

"Gently."

Her eyes half-closed, hiding her turmoil, but her voice betrayed her. It was like thick honey pouring into Liam's heart. He was no longer just a brute but the lifeline she clung to in her sea of desire.

He softened his movements. "Does it hurt here?"

His kisses, full of possessive heat, pressed her bare back against the cold mirror. Amelia's heart trembled, her body going weak under the deep kiss, barely able to stand, relying on Liam's support.

"Does it feel that good, doing it outside?"

Liam laughed between kisses. "You're soaking the floor. Anyone coming in will know I fucked you."

Amelia tried to push him away, but he punished her by biting his lip. "What's there to be afraid of?"

"If you mess up, let them bring in more clothes. I'll try them on you one by one."

"No..." Amelia shook her head, the skirt hanging loosely from her waist.

Her toes curled, barely able to stand. A hesitant inquiry came from outside. "Sir, do you need help?"

Amelia froze. Liam, imitating the saleswoman's low, sexy voice, asked her in Swahili, "Do you need help?"

"Make him leave..."

Terrified, Amelia burrowed into Liam's chest, but he called out, "Yes, we need help."

Footsteps approached, and the curtain shifted slightly. In a panic, Amelia buried her face in Liam's chest, like an ostrich hiding.

Liam chuckled, his heartbeat quickening with each of her nervous clenches. A madman.

In the next second, he shifted their position, lifting her and turning his back to the door, his broad shoulders shielding her from view. "Shh, don't get caught."

The curtain opened slightly, and a pair of shoes appeared, the salesperson softly calling out. From their angle, all they could see was a pair of pale feet nestled in the man's embrace as he dressed her.

Liam glanced at the person standing at the door, a warning flashing in his eyes. His raspy voice spoke in a long string of Swahili, with Amelia only catching a few common words like "bring," "pay," and "close."

The curtain was drawn shut again, and the footsteps receded.

"I told him to bring more clothes. We'll try each one, and I'll fuck you each time."

Amelia's face flushed red, a sign of her impending anger. Getting mad again. So easy to provoke.

"Be hurry and let me finish before he comes back."