Naughty Holiday List, Book 4
by Willa Edwards
eBook ISBN: 9781622419050
Print ISBN: 9781627410854
Amy Spear has never felt special. No one ever noticed her, especially not hunky guys like Will. An April Fools’ prank goes too far and Amy is the center of Will’s interest. But does he want all of her, or just the woman who likes getting naughty to an audience?
Buy Ebook Now:
Siren-Bookstrand ‖ Kindle ‖ Kobo ‖ Nook
“An Amelia by any other name would smell as sweet.”
Amy shook her head, pinning up the pantaloons of Will’s Feste costume, hiding her expression from him. She wanted to correct him on her name and tell him she much preferred Amy, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. Just like his over-the-top corny line, Will would continue to call her what he wanted and malign Shakespeare worse than a car advertiser in the process.
Pressing the fabric close to his body for the best possible fit, she pinned a black section of pant to a crimson pleat. She fastened the fabrics together, pretending to ignore the warmth of Will’s legs beneath her hands. The slight brushes of her palms across his inner thighs and knees tingled across her skin.
“What are you doing tonight, Amelia? Flying over the Atlantic?”
She rolled her eyes. “Why?” She tried to keep the skepticism from her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Most of the actors didn’t speak to her, except to voice their dismay at their costumes, and none asked her about her life. There was no reason for a guy like Will to speak to her. With deep-green eyes and a bubbly personality, he was the type of guy she’d realized long ago not to even bother to dream about. Lead actors never fell for quiet, mousey girls like her, except in the movies.
“A bunch of us are heading out for a drink after rehearsal. You should come with us.” Will smiled down at her, his invitation open and honest, albeit shocking.
She looked out over the dozen or so people meandering around the stage area, not surprised they hadn’t told her about the communal happy hour. Only a handful of them even knew her name, and even fewer had actually spoken to her. Just like in every other part of her life, she was invisible, and that was how she wanted it. That was why she worked backstage. The idea of spending the night at a bar, drinking next to them while they talked around her like she was a potted plant turned her stomach. Even worse, she’d have to watch Will flirt with all the other women and never look twice in her direction.
“Thanks. But not tonight.”
Amy turned the cuff up, pinning it in place around Will’s ankles. His feet were long and flat against the wood boards of the stage floor, calling to mind what her friend Mallory had said last time she’d seen her, about her two boyfriends Gabe and Lincoln proving that big hands and big feet really did mean big equipment. Her face flushed as she connected the thought to the man before her.
“Come on, Amy.” Will continued, unaware of the direction of her thoughts. “It’s April first. Play a trick on yourself. Come out and have some fun with us.”
She cast a glance upward to answer him, but stopped midway. Her eyes focused straight at the bulge between his legs. The codpiece she’d created displayed the strain below his belt prominently. Was Mallory’s theory right? Was he really as long and thick beneath the Shakespearean costume as his feet suggested? Her temperature multiplied, and she dropped her eyes quickly back to the ground before Will could see the blush no doubt coloring her cheeks.
Her long curls brushed along the length of his thighs and calves as she shook her head. “I need to finish these costumes before rehearsal tomorrow. Edmund wants to do a couple of dry runs in them before we open next week so there’s no chance for surprises.”
Edmund, the director, had been very clear about his expectations, and she’d agreed to them, no matter how many nights she’d have to stay up to finish the costumes or paint the sets. Between the extra pay and the additional credits on her resume, she couldn’t afford to let him down.
With all the cuts being made on the district budget, it was only a matter of time before her drama teacher salary and the money for her department took a hit, and she wanted to be prepared. Besides, she liked helping bring a little more theater to their small town. And Shakespeare was her favorite playwright.
“You’re all done.” Amy set the last pin in place, marking where to sew to fit the costume right to his body. She stood up, trying to hide the slight flutter of her breath when Will gazed directly at her in that focused stare of his.
Something about the way Will looked at her, as if he could see through her, deep into a place even she couldn’t reach, had her insides quivering. No one else looked at her that closely with that much interest. The intensity of his gaze—just like now—made her feel tingly from the bottom of her feet all the way to her fingertips. It was probably just a mind trick. A keen skill he’d developed over the years to get what he wanted. The reason women flocked to see him onstage, no matter what role he played, and how he’d become the most beloved weatherman on any of the local stations, regardless of his silly jokes.
“Great.” Will pulled at the costume, throwing the feathered cap to the floor by his feet while he pulled off the puffy shirt and fancy pantaloon pants she’d spent twenty minutes measuring and pinning. Twenty minutes that required her to sit uncomfortably at his feet, staring up at his groin. Her face heated just thinking about it.
Stripped down to his modern T-shirt and gym shorts, he somehow looked more tempting. The over-the-top Shakespearian garb gave him a more removed-from-reality look. Now back in his normal clothing, he looked gorgeous, tasty, and completely out of her league.
“Are you sure you won’t come out with us? They have a two-for-one margarita special for all the casts at Senor Guabos. And they’ll even let you wear the celebratory sombrero if you order the nacho platter.” He winked at her. That large grin he gave away so freely knotted her stomach. His dimple that she longed to explore with her tongue dotted his right cheek.
Amy shook her head, her mouth dry as if stuffed with cottonwood. “Have a good time,” she managed to squeak out through her tight throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
For a second, Will looked like he might try to convince her again. Instead, he shook his head and turned away, walking downstage to meet the other actors where they rehearsed their lines.
Amy sighed, not sure why her chest suddenly tightened. She gathered his discarded clothing into a giant heap, pulling it close to her chest, and tried to ignore the heat and the masculine smell radiating from the cloth, all too aware the clothing had just been hugging Will’s body. The scent was intoxicating, floating ideas she shouldn’t even consider through her mind. Like if the crook of Will’s neck smelled the same? Or how warm his body would be pressed up against her?
“Are you ready for me?” Madelyn, the dark-haired woman playing Olivia, looked dismissively over at her, as if she’d already screwed up before she even showed up.
Amy took a deep breath before rising to walk toward her. She had three more fittings tonight and many hours of quality time with her sewing machine ahead of her. She didn’t have the time to think about Will and what he did or didn’t make her feel.
“Coming right there.” She threw the last of her pins in her case and raced toward Madelyn.
* * * *
Amy pulled Madelyn’s costume onto the dress form. The bright pinks, purples, and teals looked gorgeous against the white mannequin, the same as they would against Madelyn’s pale skin and dark hair.
The director had decided to outfit the cast with Elizabethan-inspired costumes, including intricate wire-formed corsets that accentuated each actress’s chest and required a lot of time to create. But he gave the dresses a modern flare, with bright colors, shiny fabrics that shone under the stage lights, and short skirts that showed off all the actresses’ legs.
She looked back, admiring the costume still on the dress form. She smoothed her hands down the satin bodice, the fabric soft beneath her fingertips. She imagined Madelyn onstage wearing the dress, Will focusing on her and staring at the low cut across her chest and skirts circling her long legs. Her stomach knotted.
She created countless costumes over the years, some more intricate but few more beautiful than the dress she currently caressed. Yet in all those shows, she’d never tried any of them on. Now seems as good a time as any to start.
Amy tiptoed to the door and scanned the surrounding backstage area. She didn’t expect anyone to be around this late, but being ever cautious, she had to check before doing anything so tawdry. There wasn’t any expressed rule against the staff trying the costumes on, and she was fairly sure, if caught, she could justify the impromptu fitting to anyone who wandered in. But she preferred not to find out what Edmund would think of her modeling.
She waited a second and listened intently. Hearing no sounds of anyone else scurrying around the stage, Amy shut the door and turned the lock. She kicked her shoes off and walked toward the dress form. She didn’t have any reason to believe someone might sneak up on her, yet the possibility of being caught still hung in the air. Adrenaline flooded her system. Her fingers shook and her nerves flared.
With the quick efficiency of a theater change, she pulled her blue cotton dress over her head and threw it onto her work station. In the middle of the deep purples, vibrant roses, and regal yellows, her soft blue dress looked drab and boring. Just like her.
But not for long. At least for the moment, Amy was going to be daring.
She unzipped the dress, gingerly removing the gown from the dress form. Twenty hours of labor went into each of these costumes, and Amy didn’t have the time to create another if this one ripped.
Slipping the bright costume over her head, she pulled it down her body. Though she and Madelyn were the same size, the garment didn’t fit her quite the same. The corset gapped in the front. The skirts hit her leg at a different place, hovering lower on her thigh, due to the four-inch difference in their heights.
But Amy didn’t care. She was just thrilled to wear one of the costumes she had worked so hard on for a moment. They always looked so beautiful on the actresses beneath the stage lights. For one minute, in this costume, she could be beautiful like they were, without all the eyes on her.
She smoothed her hand across her body, the satin fabric smooth against her skin. The short kerchief skirt floated around her waist, whispering across her thighs in soft little brushes. The corset held her waist in tight and pushed what little chest she had upward. She imagined this was how the actresses felt as they wore her costumes on stage. Sensual and seductive. Amy’s pussy clenched at the thought of venturing out into the full theater dressed like this, watching as Will’s eyes went wild over her in the scant clothing.
She twirled around the room, feeling a little silly, but there was no one there to see her. She smiled at the tickle of the skirts around her waist. The fringed edges brushed across her skin like a thousand lover’s fingers. Her blood boiled at the image. Her cheeks heated. It had been so long since anyone had touched her that way. She imagined Will touching her intimately, his fingers tracing over her thighs and along the backs of her legs and the sensitive notch behind her knees. Reaching further up, he brushed along her ass and the curve where her thigh met her butt.
Distracted by her fantasies, Amy didn’t notice the sexy fringe adorning the skirt edge twirled together. The skirts twisted around her waist, the fringed edges tangled together and held her legs in place. Her feet moved, but her legs couldn’t. Held tight together like a mummy’s wrapping, her feet twisted beneath her. Her knees buckled. She sprawled forward. Throwing her arms out, she reached for anything to break her fall.
Amy collided into a cart in the far corner of the room. The television placed on top, which they used occasionally to show movies and performances to the actors, wobbled precariously on the cart. Her heart stopped beating, and her breath froze as she watched the television shake, her career buzzing past her eyes. She couldn’t imagine costumers who broke expensive equipment stayed employed for long.
After a few long, painful seconds, the television stopped jiggling until it stilled again. Amy leaned her head on the cart, the cool metal soothing against her head. Relief flooded her system. That would teach her to try on the costumes. After only a few minutes, she’d already had a near-disastrous slip and equipment destruction. “I should take this off right now. I never should have tried the stupid thing on to begin with,” she muttered to herself once her breathing returned to normal.
But just when her legs were strong enough to hold her up again, a noise prickled her ears. It sounded like a woman’s moan, but that made no sense. No one else was in the office. She’d been careful to look for anyone else in the theater before she’d changed in to Madelyn’s costume.
The moans continued, getting louder and stronger. The noises sounded close. She picked up her head, scanning around for where the sound might be coming from. Pulling back from the cart, she looked up at the TV, which had somehow been turned on during her fall. Her stomach dropped to her knees.
Across the screen, a woman reclined on a white-sheet-covered bed. Her blonde curly hair splayed out beneath her. Her frame was thin and fit. Her small breasts were naked and pointed to the sky. Her nipples a soft baby pink, beaded in tight peaks. The dark head of a man, the same color as Will’s hair, bobbed between her spread legs, moving with the sounds of her moans. Though the camera didn’t show how his tongue and lips played between her thighs, Amy could imagine.
Her skin flushed from head to toe, in equal parts due to embarrassment and excitement, at what she watched. Her cheeks heated almost painfully, and she was sure if she looked in a mirror she’d be redder than a poppy blossom. But no matter how she might want to, she couldn’t look away from the image on the screen. Her breath sped up and panted. Her heartbeat raced beneath the tight bodice of the Elizabethan costume. Her pussy clenched and dampened at the sight.
Her knees shook as the scene continued. Her mind compared herself to the woman on screen. She did look a little like her. The camera swiveled to show the man’s tongue buried in the woman’s pussy, his eyes focused up at her.
“Oh, my!” Her breath caught in her lungs.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispered into the camera, and Amy had to grip the cart to stay upright. He extended his tongue to brush along the woman’s clit, and she could almost feel the brush against her own body. The woman moaned, and she wanted to follow suit.
She wobbled the three feet to her seat in front of the sewing machine. Her pussy clutched, and her thighs shook around her. Heat coiled deep in the pit of her stomach. The hard plastic of her seat turned ice cold against her skin.
Her eyes remained focused on the television before her, but she didn’t really absorb the image on the screen. All she saw was herself lying on the soft white sheets, and Will’s talented mouth licking and sucking between her legs. Her fingernails stabbed into her palms the way she wished she could stab into his scalp as he sucked her harder.
Her nipples ached. Amy slipped her hand up the silky fabric of the bodice and pinched the point through the dress to soothe the much deeper ache of need inside her. But it only inflamed her further. Her pussy convulsed. Her clit throbbed. The deep ache and incessant thrum of her heartbeat in her ears was too much for her to bear. Amy lifted up the skirts of her dress, brushing her clit through the moist fabric of her underwear. She took a deep breath, the ripples of pleasure echoing out along her legs and up her chest.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her like the man did the woman on screen, or had lain between her legs and pleasured her with so much gusto. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever pleasured her as much as the man on the screen was that woman, if her moans were any kind of example. The sound was probably fake, just good acting, but a pang of regret stabbed her heart. What a waste! No one should have to go this long without knowing such passion.
She wanted someone to pleasure her that much. She had a wild sense Will would be amazing in bed. Something about the way he looked at her, his sensual mouth and wicked smile, just made her think he knew how to please a woman. As an actor he was so methodical, taking all the time he needed to find the right pose or inflection to bring the character to life. If he did the same beneath the belt, he’d have a very happy woman in his bed. If only it could be me.
Amy moaned and slipped her fingers beneath the elastic waistband of her underwear, tugging them down her legs and out of the way. Will might never be interested in a quiet girl like her, but there was nothing wrong with fantasizing it could be different. She skimmed through the slick outer lips of her pussy. Finding the nub of her clit, she rubbed it in tight, hard circles, imagining Will’s tongue touching her there, his breath blowing across her sticky flesh. She could almost see that triumphant smile of his staring up from between her legs.
In front of her the porno movie continued. The moans of the woman and man floated around her, but Amy no longer saw the movie. The image of Will between her legs, his palms holding her thighs wide and his tongue pushing deep inside her, painted over the rest of her vision.
* * * *
Will thought he’d lose his mind when Amy had pulled her dress over her head and stood in the room in only her bra and panties. He’d never expected to see that much of Amy. The mere sight of all that pale, creamy skin was enough to have him groaning in pain.
But when she’d dropped down into the seat in front of the TV screen and pulled up her dress, everything in Will’s body went on red alert. His balls tightened and ached. His cock hardened like a wood pole in his pants. Sweat beaded all over his body, between his fingers and under his arms, streaming down his forehead, and burning his eyes. But he didn’t dare move. He didn’t even blink, out of fear he’d miss one moment of what Amy planned to do.
It wasn’t right to spy on her. He should announce his presence. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the idea of her stopping even for one second. For months he’d fantasized about Amy doing all kinds of things to the sweet little body of hers, and quite a few things to his as well, and now he had his chance to see the live show. He couldn’t turn away any more than he could stop himself from fantasizing about her every night.
He never would have guessed Amy was the type of girl to partake in self-fulfillment. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew women had needs and desires. They watched porn, read erotica, and played with vibrators to get themselves off. But Amy never seemed like the type of girl who would be interested in all that. She was too quiet, too innocent.
That was one of the reasons he liked her so much. She was a delicate white flower, and all he wanted to do was get her dirty. He wanted to show her all the pleasure to be found in being naughty. He fantasized about cramming vibrators in her cunt, teasing her clit with a bullet, and showing her how much fun toys could be. He could almost envision the look on her face as he took her with a vibe crammed up her ass. He wanted to be the only man that knew how sweet she tasted.
When he inserted the porno in the DVD player earlier today, he thought she’d scream when she saw it, or fumble out of the room, and maybe even stare at the screen with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. It seemed like a great April Fools’ prank. He never thought she’d sit down in a chair and touch herself to the show. If he’d known she’d have that kind of reaction, he might have played this trick on her a long time ago.
Amy’s left hand reached for her chest, pulling and plucking at her swollen nipple. She twisted the protruding nub, her fingers continued to thrust between her legs, pushing deep into her pussy. A little throaty moan escaped her, so soft and sweet and so Amy. Will had to clench everything inside him not to groan in response.
He shifted closer to the crack in the door, pushing his hands flat to the closet floor to keep them immobile. He wanted to touch himself so bad, to stroke his cock or rub his aching balls as he watched her. But only one creak from the closet or grunt from him and she’d know where he hid and what he saw, and the show would come to an end. He couldn’t bear that. Not yet.
The couple on the screen moaned, and Amy moaned with them. From his angle, Will could only see part of the TV, but it was enough to tell the man had risen from where he’d been between the woman’s thighs to perch above her. Her legs wrapped around his waist as, Will assumed, he plunged into her. Amy thrust her fingers in and out of her pussy faster, pushing deeper.
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning at the sight of Amy shoving her fingers deep inside her. Her thumb rubbed her clit in small circles. His palms tingled at the flex and quiver of her thigh muscles. If he were pleasuring her, he’d hold her legs open and wide so he could touch and lick and kiss every inch of her. Phantom shakes rocketed up his arms and skittered along his nerves. His balls tightened and pulled up against his groin. Each second was a torture he was forced to endure, or risk losing the gorgeous sight before him.
Amy moaned a breathy sound that almost sounded like his name. Will couldn’t be sure, but just the thought had his dick hardening. He leaned forward, pressing his ear to the door, hoping to hear more of her moans and breathy whispers and praying most of all to hear her say his name again, loud and lusty as she came.
With a clink, the door slid open, the crummy latch released beneath his weight. Will fell out of the closet with a clatter, sprawling him forward across the floor. His elbows slammed against the tile, held out to cushion some of the blow. The April Fools he’d intended to scream as he jumped from the closet died on his lips faster than a summer rainstorm. It didn’t feel like a joke anymore. It was something far more.
From where he knelt, Will looked up at Amy, seeing all of her for the first time. Her long smooth legs were spread wide, her fingers thrust into her puffy pussy, glistening in her wetness. Her breasts pushed up against the neckline of her dress with each of her deep breaths. A flush covered her body from ankles to eyebrows. Her lips parted, soft and sweet. Her eyes were drowsy, glassy, and glowing.
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Amy stared up at him. Her jaw dropped. The blood drained from her face, making her lips look even pinker and more luscious. God, how he wanted to reach out and suck one of those swollen lips into his mouth, to lick and nip at it until she moaned. If he thought she wouldn’t run away like a scared bird and never speak to him again, he might’ve tried.
But he didn’t move, too afraid of spooking her. He’d expected Amy to drop her hands from her body, to fumble or run away, now that he’d announced his presence. He wouldn’t blame her. He’d do the same if someone caught him in the act. But Amy never dropped her hand. She just sat there, staring at him, continuing to move her fingers in and out of her cunt.
And with each second he watched her, the more desperate he was to see her come. If she got up and ran away from him now, he might die on the spot. With each passing moment, his thirst to join in multiplied. His tongue twisted to drink up that sweetness between her thighs, his fingers curling to thrust into her pussy, to find each and every spot that made her moan, beg, and scream. He only remained still out of sheer willpower.
Amy licked her lips, and his own mouth felt dry. His eyes scanned up and down her body. Her wide-eyed blue gaze met his. Her hand thrust faster between her legs. The other hand pinched her nipples, the tight beaded peaks pushed against the silky fabric of her dress. He didn’t know how he’d ever be able to look at his costars in their costumes again without getting hard. The sight of sweet, innocent Amy, with her legs spread wide and her fingers fucking herself forever imprinted on his mind. Even at eighty, when he thought of Amy in her revealing position, he’d probably still become hard.
But the part of her that enraptured him the most, more than her pink pussy and her perky breasts with those nipples calling for him to suck, were her bright blue eyes fastened on him. She watched him, her sight not shifting for a second, as if he were as much a part of the act as her fingers were, and the people on the TV screen. And he wanted to be a part of her orgasm, more than a spectator or a bystander. He wanted to touch her, make her wet, make her come.
Will focused on breathing, the scene before him so magical it was easy to forget his need for oxygen. She moaned softly, and his knees would have buckled if he wasn’t already kneeling. A small smile turned up the corners of her lips, so small most would have missed it. The same smirk she used when she inspected her work on the painted sets, or one of the actors messed up on their lines and said some sexual slur.
He hadn’t thought the scene could get any more erotic, but that soft smile sent him reeling.
He never would have guessed Amy had such a wild streak, but there was no doubt in his mind she was getting off on being watched. The wildness in her eyes as she stared at him was palpable. Her skin flushed, and her breath gasped after he’d been revealed.
Amy had definitely proven something to him today. He didn’t know a damn thing about her. He’d always wondered about her, what made her so shy and unaware of her beauty. Now it was a desperate need. He wouldn’t be able to survive much longer without learning what made her tick, what made her scream, what made her come.
Her fingers moved faster. Her legs shook, her heels pressed into the floor, and her toes curled. The smell of her sweet need filled the room. It took everything in him not to reach into his pants and pull out his hard cock, but the risk was still too high. He couldn’t take his eyes off Amy. She hovered on the edge, about to break, and he refused to miss a second.
She stared into his eyes for one blinding moment and then released a large scream. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her firm white teeth bit into her bottom lip. Soft moans and whispered breaths escaped from her throat. Her chest flushed a deep rose color, the hue slipping up her long, graceful neck to dot her cheeks. Her fingers continued to move in and out of her cunt, slowing as the ripples of her orgasm dissipated.
Her body slowly settled, and her breath calmed to a steady pace. Her legs lay limp beneath her, her head thrown back over the chair. Her breasts still pushed against the edge of the bodice. Sweat shone from the valley between, and his mouth watered. Will fought hard against the temptation to crawl toward her and to lick the sweat glistening off her skin.
He tried to breathe as her eyes fastened on him, seeing him for the first time since her orgasm. The hazy film of desire had evaporated, leaving only clear blue staring back at him. She looked startled, but she did not run away. She stayed there, her fingers still thrust into her wet pussy, her skirt hitched up to her waist. Bright pink still painted her cheeks, deepening to a bright rose, but she said nothing.
Will’s heart pounded in the silence and stillness. His dick ached beneath the tight fabric of his pants. His balls throbbed, desperate for relief. Yet the rest of him was desperate for something else. The taste of Amy. All he could think about was leaning forward and sliding his tongue along her salty skin, pulling her fingers from her pussy, and licking them clean. And once he had his fill, he’d slam his cock into her and feel her come all over again beneath him.
He groaned at the image. Amy’s eyes widened further, and his stomach dropped to his knees. No. She couldn’t leave, not now, not when she was finally so close.
He’d never intended to scare her. He’d only meant it to be a prank. Just like the little kid on the playground, he’d only pushed her to see how she’d react, to show her how much he cared in a roundabout way, without having to tell her the truth. But she’d managed to push him instead, to show him how little he knew. Now he couldn’t bear the idea of her running out on him.
She slid forward, about to rise from the seat, her legs bracing to run. Will’s chest tightened, the urge to stop her clammed his throat. He needed to do something, anything to get her to stay.
“Amy—” he started, not sure what to say, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth.
Amy’s hand pulled back from her body, his words breaking the spell around them. She hastily pushed the skirts down her legs and covered all of her from his eyes. He bit back a moan at the lack. He couldn’t ask her to strip for him, but God he wanted to.
Her back straightened, and before he could say another word. She jumped from the chair and ran from the room, the rustle of the costume skirt and thud of her feet on the smooth tiles the only sounds echoing through the theater.
Will rose to follow her, but what would he say when he found her? That watching her come was the most erotic thing he’d ever witnessed. That his cock had been so hard he’d been close to having an accident, and she hadn’t even touched him.
Slumping back down to the floor, he couldn’t tell her any of that. He’d dreamt about Amy for months, since the first day she’d shown up on set. Those big blue eyes, and her small, slight frame he could easily pick up and pull into his arms. He couldn’t stop thinking about those long blonde curls spread across a pillow, or even better, spread over his body.
But she always seemed too sweet for him. She took everything so seriously. Nothing like the joke he was. She could never be interested in a joker like him.
This was a whole different side of her. Seeing her lips parted on a moan, her face flushed. All he wanted was to make her scream like that again, to watch her come over and over again, her eyes lighting up and his name rolling off her lips while he buried inside her.
Now that he’d found her, the real Amy, he wasn’t letting her go. There would be no more hiding behind her shell of shy propriety. He’d show her all the pleasure the world had to offer, all he had to offer. Then she’d never want to hide again.
Across the room he noticed a white spot. Reaching for it, he grasped Amy’s underwear in his hand. The pair she’d thrown aside, an irritating barrier between herself and the release she wanted.
Will gathered the fabric, pulling it to his nose and taking a deep breath. His dick hardened tighter. The head rubbed against his zipper painfully. He needed to come, and soon.
He folded the white cotton underwear and placed them in his pocket. He should return them to Amy. It was the right thing to do. A smile covered his face as he thought of how Amy would react to him returning the item. He could almost see her cheeks pinking and her bright eyes widening when he handed them over.
He couldn’t wait until the next rehearsal.
Buy Ebook Now:
Siren-Bookstrand ‖ Kindle ‖ Kobo ‖ Nook