Page 41 of Tarnished Reign

I know you work out at five in the morning. Are you working today?

Yes. I’m feeling much better, thanks for asking – wink emoji.

I laugh. Can you get some clothes for a woman I have staying with me?

Of course. Nataliya said she’d go when I had the bug. Did she forget?

I type impatiently. She did buy clothes, but I don’t like what she purchased.

Oh? Nataliya has great taste in clothes.

Jesus. She does, but she shopped for this girl as if she’s a fifty-year-old matron who’s on the board of five charities.

She sends three laughing emojis and then: So what do you want me to get? Full on glamour? Model on a yacht? Cocktail clothes?

I think for a moment. I want classy but sexy. Instead of loose linen pants and cotton t-shirts think silk slip dresses. Silk pants. Fitted t-shirts. Day dresses. Bikinis. Oh, and a sexy night slip. Silk or satin. Some heels.

There’s a longer pause before: Size?

Nataliya purchased a size six in dresses, eight in tops, and six in pants, and it all fits.

Three dots and then: If you want lingerie, I need a bra size.

Crap. Don’t have it. Nataliya bought those strappy tops instead of a bra, and she’s been wearing them under shapeless sacks.

She needs a bra if you want her to wear tighter clothes. I presume she’s top heavy with the size differential, so she’s going to need the support if she has a bigger bust.

She has big tits, I helpfully supply.

She sends an eye roll emoji. I still need a size. Big tits doesn’t help me when I’m buying a bra.

Fuck. My dick is hard now, thinking about Adriana’s tits. I nudge her gently, and she groans.

“What bra size do you wear?” I ask.

“What?” She blinks and stares at me as if I’m insane, which I think I am.

“Bra size. I’m ordering you some more clothes.”

She yawns. “I have clothes.”

“They’re hideous.”

“I like them.”

“You would.”

She yawns again.

“Bra size, then you can go back to sleep, Sleeping Beauty.”

“34D,” she mutters, and her eyes are almost closing again.

I kiss her forehead. She’s too tired to object. “Go to sleep, Littleblue.”

She does. As if she’s all safe and secure and not in bed with a man fighting every single fiber of his being not to tear those shapeless pajamas from her and ravage her.

I text Janice. 34D

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