"I cannot let you spend this kind of money on me," I whispered.

"Nonsense."

"Finn, seriously, this is too much."

He stopped walking and glared at me.

"You're the one that said I owed you $800,000. I'm paying you off penny by penny, so accept it."

I rolled my eyes and followed him and Miss Prissy to the dressing rooms. He stood outside while I tried on the outfits.

"How do they look?"

"Why don't you come in and see for yourself?" I cracked open the door.

The next thing I knew, he was pushing his way into the dressing room, and his face lit up as he caught sight of me wearing an Akris black, double-face wool, zip-shoulder, flare dress. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"This is how you should dress all the time." He placed his hands on my waist. "See how it accentuates your waist and forms to your body? Make note of it. I want to see the coat dress next."

I turned around, and he unzipped the form fitting fabric from my body. It fell to the floor, and I stepped out of the $3000 dress then slipped on the one he requested. The flared collar and wool fabric with built-in pockets seemed more like something I would wear. Plus it was warm. Even better, I had a Peplum jacket in the same style waiting.

"This one isn't so bad, is it?" I actually liked it. Over my shoulder, I looked at him.

I went toward him and stood inches from his face.

"I'm as bored as that dress."

"Are you kidding me? Look at this collar. Collars do not make people look boring."

"I disagree."

"Who died and made you the fashion police?"

"The same person who died and gave you that smart ass mouth."

This was the Finnley I knew and loved.

I reached my hand down to his pants and ripped open the button, then unzipped them violently.

He lifted an eyebrow at me. "The same person who died and made you think you could do whatever the fuck you want, whenever you want, and wherever you want," he whispered in my ear.

Then I dropped to my knees and yanked down his jeans, but he didn't protest. No sensible man would. He wasn't completely hard, but I knew that would change when I placed him in my mouth. The combination of eye contact and licking worked like magic.

Lightly, I grazed up his length with my lips and licked down to the tip, making sure my tongue covered every inch. I wanted him to feel my eagerness to please. Then I placed him in my mouth, starting slow, and trying to push him, all of him, into me. He gave out a stifled moan as I varied my speeds and intensity and combined my mouth with my hands. I looked up into his eyes, and he watched me hungrily. When he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, and when his quad muscles tightened, I knew he was getting close. So I slowed my rhythm, and moved my fingers up his legs, then grazed fingernails down his abs as I picked up the pace. Deep groans, and the anticipation of his orgasm built. But he wouldn't come until I allowed it, because I was in control.

Continuing to drive him wild, I nibbled and licked my way up and down him. Then I forced him deeper into my mouth, wanting him to know how much I enjoyed making him feel good. His hands found their way to my hair, and he interlaced the strands between his fingers. I worked faster, and harder, pulling him closer to the edge. When he whispered he was close, I pushed him more forcefully and deeper into my throat until he released himself. I felt the orgasmic wave and heard the soft moan as he came. I swallowed every drop of him, making sure nothing was left behind or wasted. The taste wasn't my favorite but I did it to please him. I stood up, bit my bottom lip, and stared into his eyes.

"Don't say I never gave you anything," I said, echoing the same words he whispered to me in his office.

"Yeah? I still think the dress is boring." He ran his hands up my stomach, grabbed the material in his fists, and ripped it open. Buttons popped and landed on the floor, and his hands found their way to my bare breasts.

"It's not so boring, now."

"Because it's destroyed." I removed the ripped clothing from my shoulders and put on my sweater dress, knowing we had taken too long in the dressing room.

"Oh, and I'll take everything you picked out, since you are indeed the chief of fashion."

He zipped his pants, and I exited the dressing room smiling with satisfaction. Knowing that I brought him over the edge pleased me.

The woman stood at the counter and asked how everything fit. I smiled and responded sweetly. "Once I had a taste of designer, I decided I wanted it all."

I pretended to glance through the jackets on the rack as she scurried toward the dressing room. She returned to the counter with every piece of clothing in her arms. Finnley followed behind her. If she worked on commission, today would be like winning the lottery.

Finn smiled with delight as the woman kindly mentioned the wool coatdress had several buttons missing, and she couldn't sell it in that state.

He bit his bottom lip, and she gushed.

Eye roll.

"Really? How many buttons are missing, exactly?" He glanced over at me and leaned coolly on the counter. She pointed down the dress as she counted.

"At least six of the ten buttons. I'm not sure how something like this happens. My manager will be upset. This is completely unsellable."

"I'll buy it how it is," he said.

Her eyes lit up, and then she gave him her best pouty-lips look. He was such a player.

"But it's ruined. Look, even the fabric is ripped along the seam." She held the dress and showed the rip of the collar.

"I won't tell, if you won't," he whispered. I thought her legs might buckle from beneath her, but instead she smiled and scanned every piece of clothing from the dressing room, including the wool dress.

"Your total came to,"—she paused and glanced at the register. It read $87,248.63.

He lifted his eyebrow at her and pulled out a black American Express from his wallet. She looked down at the card, then back at him.

"A no-limit card," she said, smiling.

"That's not all I've got," he said and handed the girl a black business card with red lips on the back.

What the hell? Was he really doing this right now?

She looked down at the card and he continued, "If you're looking for a new job, give me a call."

And that's when my temper raged. He was not doing this with me right there. I walked to him, smiled, and wrapped my arm around his waist, publicly claiming him as mine, but he pushed my hand away. The girl lowered her eyes, placed the clothing in garment bags and handed them to Finnley.

"Here you are, Mr. Felton, and,"—she hesitated—"I may keep your offer in mind." She batted her long eyelashes toward him.

Now don't get me wrong, Finnley Felton was fucking sex on legs. With a single look, he could make any woman drop to her knees and beg to please him regardless of whether he wore a suit and tie or street clothes. Messy hair, long eyelashes, pouty lips, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw combined with smothering confidence were only a few attributes for one of the richest, most-fuckable CEOs under the age of thirty. Finnley was the definition of sex appeal. So, I couldn't help that jealousy flared inside of me. To top the situation off, she was cute. I wondered if another one of his Girls would be the one, the next me, and if I would be pushed aside since I was no longer a virgin.

He handed half of the black garment bags to me and walked furiously toward the exit. After shoving the clothes into the trunk, he slid behind the steering wheel and slammed the door shut. I followed.