Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
She’s asking me without asking me, I guess.
How the hell did you land a catch like Mr. Silverthorne?
But I can only smile back at her. I mean, really smile back.
I’ve asked myself the same question a million times since yesterday. But already, it’s like Ethan, and I have been together forever somehow.
“I’m Mr. Silverthorne’s…hostess,” I tell her, trying not to laugh as I say the words.
But I think May saw playing tonsil hockey outside before we came in.
“Well. I think he’s a lucky guy,” she says, crimping a smile.
One bigger girl giving silent kudos to another.
One of us at last finally managed not just to snag any man, but the man of the century.
Before long, I have what I think is a good selection of outfits to choose from.
Ethan appears with an armful of lingerie. Tiny hangers with not much fabric fill his huge hands and arms as he surprises May and me.
“Uh… I thought you’d need underwear too,” he flushes.
And I can tell by the not-so-subtle bulge in his pants that Ethan’s been doing more than just watching me shop.
May excuses herself, and Ethan growls low at me with a curled lip before he eyes the clothes I’ve picked.
Normally I’d ask which outfit he likes best, but seeing him with so much lingerie, knowing he’s getting hard thinking of me in it.
It’s hard for me to stay focused.
“Lemee see you try some of these on,” Ethan groans, moving over to me after making sure we’re in a private spot between some clothes racks.
“Ethan…,” I murmur, surprised at how much the idea is actually turning me on.
“I want you, Krissy,” he says firmly, making me rethink any hesitation I’m trying to have.
“They don’t look like they’ll fit,” I say, lifting a pair of panties from his fingers with my own.
Shivering when I feel the delicate lace mixed with the electric charge from those magic hands of his.
“They’re not supposed to fit,” he growls, cocking a brow, and informs me we have to stock up on underwear.
“How so?” I ask, playing along with a growing need of my own by now.
“Because you won’t be wearing ‘em long enough to even know if they fit or not. My big dick is gonna be pushing ‘em to one side,” he rasps.
His words feel like his hands. And instantly, I’m pushing myself into his arms, running a hand over the now full erection in his pants.
In seconds he’s bundled me into the change booth.
All the staff is suddenly gone.
And I half wonder if Ethan hasn’t paid to have the whole store closed.
Just long enough for him to have another peek at what he knows belongs to him now.
But I feel like more than letting him see, and wonder if a girl really should let alone could lose her virginity in a changing booth?
But Ethan’s having issues of his own.
Trying to squeeze a girl my size and him inside a changing booth?
It’s never gonna work, not even if he’s balls deep inside me.
The walls of the changing booth groan and one cracks before Ethan can see and hear for himself that unless he takes me out in the open, we’re both gonna just have to wait.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ethan
Once it clicks they have nothing in my size, I figure I should look at something else, so I do some shopping for a few other things.
A new watch, maybe?
Or a necklace to go with Krissy’s new outfits…
I get kind of a little more than distracted once I spot the lingerie, though. And knowing she’s just feet away, slipping in and out of clothes is enough to make me snap.
Enough to make me picture parts of me slipping in and out of her. Making me feel like I’ll burst if I can’t get some more handfuls of what I know belongs to me now.
I thought I’d be fine. Going out into the big wide world with her, but damn it, if she doesn’t make me hornier than a unicorn convention.
I grab fistfuls of flimsy panties and bras before heading over to her, deciding it’s time for me to help out instead of just mooching around the store.
But my excitement’s short-lived.
Once it’s clear that I won’t fit in the changing booth, I growl with the growing frustration I feel.
“I need you, Krissy,” I tell her, not even having to draw her attention to the aching hard-on I have for her, which she’s quick to stroke to full attention.
Her face flushing deep red. Her panting breath and little whimpering sounds.
All of it tells me we should’ve headed straight up to my suite instead of trying to do ‘normal’ things like shopping or keeping our clothes on.
At least until I claim her properly anyway.
I have to laugh, though; we both do. And I chuckle to myself as I temper the beast in me.