Free House Rules by Christa Wick

each cheek to join a two-inch swath of lace. Sheer black, the stockings end halfway up my thighs.
    I put the stockings, bra and panties on then spin a slow circle in front of the mirror. I shake my head, feeling like I must be looking at another woman and that the designer is a frigging genius.
    Returning to the bed, I put on the silk blouse and skirt in a dark merlot. Both are form fitting and ruched, the many delicate folds in the fabric camouflaging those in my body. Looking at the outfit, I can't entirely wrap my mind around the expensive fabric with its tailored cut in my size or that Luke has put some poor soul through the pain and effort of acquiring them.
    I am equally stunned by the details that fill the basket of cosmetics next to the clothes. The colors match those I wore the first night Luke encountered me, but with brand names for which a single bottle of foundation costs more than a month of my utilities. Hell, the tube of frosted pink lipstick is a month of electricity.
    I take my time applying the make-up and arranging my hair. Even if it turns out to be dinner with just Tommy, I have the feeling I will see Masters again before the night ends. Plus, I hope the more polished I look when I see Tommy, the more faith he will have in my getting us out of this jam.
    Rule number 7 -- Fake it until you make it.
    Abusive con artist or not, my father imparted at least a few words of wisdom in the twenty years I knew him. He twisted them into tools to scam people, of course, but it didn't take me long to untwist them, especially once I escaped his control. Tommy was easy to retrain, too. He is, by nature, everything my dad isn't: kind, industrious, smart.
    Rose, on the other hand...
    I shake my head. I will have time to work on Rose after she is safe. With our father in jail and my warrants gone -- if Masters can really make that happen -- we can finally settle into one place. I can get a better job.
    My attention returning to the mirror, I discover Luke standing a few feet behind me, his gaze on my reflection.
    "I hope that head shake has nothing to do with how you look." He steps closer and turns me until I face him. His hands around my hips, he draws me closer. "Because you look amazing."
    I start to shake my head again, stopping only after it is too late to disguise the gesture. Masters presses against the underside of my chin until I look up at him.
    "You don't have to believe me, just smile or say okay. Eventually you will see it for yourself." Tilting his head down, he glosses his lips against my mouth then nudges his nose against mine. "And the next compliment you roll your eyes at, I'm spanking that lush ass of yours while we're both naked."
    "Okay." My cheeks burn at the threat. I have never been spanked -- that would have been too mild a punishment by my father's standards. Yesterday -- even this morning -- the threat would have made me tense and anxious, fearful perhaps. Now I doubt I would protest if Luke spanked me. The mere idea of his hand on my bare bottom and the press of his erect cock against my hip rekindles the embers of my earlier arousal.
    I search his gaze, looking for any sign that I should be worried the experience would be less than pleasurable. After all, I know next to nothing about Luke. That you can't con a con offers no comfort because I have come to the realization that I no longer am one.
    It would be child's play for him to scam me. I want what he is offering, am downright greedy for his smile and touch.
    Cupping my cheek, he kisses the edge of my mouth. "Baby, save the thinking for when you're with Solandro or at the table. Here, with me, I just want you to feel."
    To just feel, I have to trust.
    I close my eyes, wanting like hell to trust Luke. Taking full possession of my head, he kisses me again. His tongue presses against the seal of my lips. When I don't yield, he tilts my head back until the strain on my neck gives him the small opening he needs. His tongue slips in, takes a slow