Outfit
"You're not going out in that outfit," Harvey murmurs, watching her from the hallway, his mind completely lost in the way the fabric of Donna's dress clings to her curves, and accentuates and lifts her breasts.
"Excuse me?" she asks, almost yelling and on the verge of anger, standing in the doorway of their room. Her husband isn't going to dictate how she dresses to go outside, no way.
"That you're not going out in that outfit," he repeats, walking towards her, his eyes unable to look away from her boobs.
"Yes, I heard that," she responds with noticeable annoyance.
"So?" he asks, just inches away from her.
"The fact that you're my husband doesn't give you the right to tell me how I should dress or how I should act. And you know it. You know I'll never let you dictate my life. You know I won't tolerate it. You know what—" Harvey pretends to listen to her as she gives that speech he's heard more than once, but in reality, he's too focused on counting the freckles that adorn the skin of her breasts. Until he can't bear that high-pitched background tone anymore, and he silences her with a deep kiss. "Harvey, what the hell? Don't kiss me when I'm mad and you want me to shut up—" And Harvey does it again, this time wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer. "Harvey—" she protests.
"You didn't let me finish my thoughts. You're not going out in that outfit without me appreciating and truly enjoying it first."
Donna sighs, she just fell into Harvey's trap. "And you deliberately made me angry because it turns you on to see me like this." She snorts.
He chuckles, victorious on her lips. "Exactly," he rejoices and kisses her. "And I hope you're not in a hurry, and I'm sorry to anyone who's waiting for you." He says, not giving her any choice, as he kisses her and guides her into the room. It takes less than 30 seconds for Donna to surrender to her husband. He's truly inspired by making her angry.
