Hillary
I stand in front of the mirror in the pink dress glazed with stones that Bentley picked out for me to wear to the ball tonight. Bentley is a pure dominant in every sense, he didn’t even let me pick out a dress for myself. He just pointed to this one, and the good thing is, I actually like it too.
The color.
The way it hugs my curves.
I want him to see me and get that glint in his eyes again.
I want him to never be able to take his sad brown eyes off me the entire night.
I want him to see me and hum in approval.
I pair the dress with the silver jewelry he also got for me. I don’t even think about the price of the dress, the shoes, or the jewelry because I’m convinced it’s something I could never afford to pay back anyway.
Once I’m done, I run a brush through my hair again.
