the smooth velvety feel, and held them up to see how they’d fit. The jacket reached mid-thigh, longer than most of that style.
Then I started hunting for the rest of my clothes. Even Ethan wouldn’t want me to wear just chaps and a jacket, right? I shook everything out three or four times but couldn’t find a scrap of anything else, not even socks.
I called down to the desk and they swore there was nothing else waiting for me. I even searched the office myself without finding anything. (Well, that’s not quite accurate. They were running a heck of a pool on the coming high school football season. I ignored that, since I wasn’t a cop at the moment.)
Finally, I let myself back into my room and stared at the clothing spread out on the bed. Jacket, chaps, boots. That rig didn’t hide anything, except maybe my toes. I cursed my own stupidity at not setting stricter rules when I’d had the chance. Then I shrugged. I was sure that Ethan wouldn’t harm me, even when he drank my blood. Besides, my body kept celebrating the possibilities of that clothing.
So I gathered my toiletries together and went into the surprisingly clean bathroom. A long, hot bath did wonders for my frame of mind. After I’d toweled off, I arranged the hand mirrors I’d remembered to bring and started trimming my bush with the sharpest pair of barber’s scissors I could find. A big dollop of shaving cream followed and then I started to shave. Carefully, of course. Very, very carefully.
The results startled me. I looked naked and felt much more on display than I ever had before, even in the women’s showers at the gym or the station. I could feel every breath of air, every little twitch of my thighs. I could also see very clearly exactly what my excitement looked like, my folds deep red and beaded with moisture like an exotic flower.
I looked at my face in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize myself. My grandmother was a Cherokee out of Oklahoma and I have something of her look. Well, it was an exotic female I faced, someone I’d never seen before: big brown eyes set slightly aslant, pupils huge and drowsy with lust. A hectic flush of color on my cheekbones meant that I didn’t need any makeup, not that I usually wore any. My mouth was red and ripe, trembling a little, as if it needed to be kissed.
Then I caught sight of the clock’s reflection: seven something. I turned around and cursed; I had less than fifteen minutes to finish getting ready. I put on a little makeup, nothing fancy, just lipstick and mascara, something to celebrate a hot date.
I pulled on the leathers as fast as possible. They fit perfectly, of course; Ethan isn’t one to get anything wrong.
That left me with three minutes to see how I looked. The jacket covered me well enough so that I looked like a cowgirl in working clothes. At least while I stood up straight and kept everything in place.
But if the jacket was unbuttoned or removed, then I looked like a sexual toy. The chaps outlined my privates like an engraved invitation. I could see everything I had, especially with the hair gone.
If I bent over, the jacket slid up and out of the way, leaving my butt begging for attention.
I bit my lip when I thought of how Ethan might respond to that opportunity.
The doorbell rang while I was still working on ways to stay decent with the jacket. I froze at the sound and took a deep breath. Eight o’clock exactly.
I opened the door immediately, not needing to check who was there. Ethan looked down at me, hazel eyes noting every detail of my appearance.
“Aren’t you going to greet me, Stephanie?” he drawled.
I flushed and reached up to do so, the jacket riding up over my hips with the movement. His lips were cool and hard but quickly warmed up. Soon he was doing the kissing and I was moaning into his mouth. Part of my brain knew that his hands were busy on my bare skin under the jacket but most of me didn’t care what he did,
Then I started hunting for the rest of my clothes. Even Ethan wouldn’t want me to wear just chaps and a jacket, right? I shook everything out three or four times but couldn’t find a scrap of anything else, not even socks.
I called down to the desk and they swore there was nothing else waiting for me. I even searched the office myself without finding anything. (Well, that’s not quite accurate. They were running a heck of a pool on the coming high school football season. I ignored that, since I wasn’t a cop at the moment.)
Finally, I let myself back into my room and stared at the clothing spread out on the bed. Jacket, chaps, boots. That rig didn’t hide anything, except maybe my toes. I cursed my own stupidity at not setting stricter rules when I’d had the chance. Then I shrugged. I was sure that Ethan wouldn’t harm me, even when he drank my blood. Besides, my body kept celebrating the possibilities of that clothing.
So I gathered my toiletries together and went into the surprisingly clean bathroom. A long, hot bath did wonders for my frame of mind. After I’d toweled off, I arranged the hand mirrors I’d remembered to bring and started trimming my bush with the sharpest pair of barber’s scissors I could find. A big dollop of shaving cream followed and then I started to shave. Carefully, of course. Very, very carefully.
The results startled me. I looked naked and felt much more on display than I ever had before, even in the women’s showers at the gym or the station. I could feel every breath of air, every little twitch of my thighs. I could also see very clearly exactly what my excitement looked like, my folds deep red and beaded with moisture like an exotic flower.
I looked at my face in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize myself. My grandmother was a Cherokee out of Oklahoma and I have something of her look. Well, it was an exotic female I faced, someone I’d never seen before: big brown eyes set slightly aslant, pupils huge and drowsy with lust. A hectic flush of color on my cheekbones meant that I didn’t need any makeup, not that I usually wore any. My mouth was red and ripe, trembling a little, as if it needed to be kissed.
Then I caught sight of the clock’s reflection: seven something. I turned around and cursed; I had less than fifteen minutes to finish getting ready. I put on a little makeup, nothing fancy, just lipstick and mascara, something to celebrate a hot date.
I pulled on the leathers as fast as possible. They fit perfectly, of course; Ethan isn’t one to get anything wrong.
That left me with three minutes to see how I looked. The jacket covered me well enough so that I looked like a cowgirl in working clothes. At least while I stood up straight and kept everything in place.
But if the jacket was unbuttoned or removed, then I looked like a sexual toy. The chaps outlined my privates like an engraved invitation. I could see everything I had, especially with the hair gone.
If I bent over, the jacket slid up and out of the way, leaving my butt begging for attention.
I bit my lip when I thought of how Ethan might respond to that opportunity.
The doorbell rang while I was still working on ways to stay decent with the jacket. I froze at the sound and took a deep breath. Eight o’clock exactly.
I opened the door immediately, not needing to check who was there. Ethan looked down at me, hazel eyes noting every detail of my appearance.
“Aren’t you going to greet me, Stephanie?” he drawled.
I flushed and reached up to do so, the jacket riding up over my hips with the movement. His lips were cool and hard but quickly warmed up. Soon he was doing the kissing and I was moaning into his mouth. Part of my brain knew that his hands were busy on my bare skin under the jacket but most of me didn’t care what he did,
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