Page 29 of Bull Rush

A few moments later, she reappears in a tight-fitting bodysuit. It’s not bad, but it’s not as nice as the last one.

“It’s a bit boring compared to the last one. You’d better save that one for the grand finale. Assuming you get one.” I smirk to myself.

“You haven’t seen the back yet,” she scolds as she turns around and shows off the fact that the whole back is laced with ribbon, and there’s a heart-shaped cutout around her ass. She’s wearing a floss-thin G-string on underneath. “Does it look cute from the back?” She bends over, and I have to close my eyes.

“Fuuccck” I mutter to myself. Thankfully it’s quiet enough that she can’t hear.

“What?” She pops again, her brow furrowed like I’ve insulted her.

“Yeah. It’s cute. I don’t think you need the G-string though. It just makes for more work.” I lift one shoulder as she turns back to me.

“Some people like the work,” she sneers and then takes off again for her room without letting me defend my point.

I’m unsure if that’s the end of the show or if I’m getting more since she’s unhappy with my responses. But I still use the moment to readjust because even if I can keep my face from showing it, my dick’s eager to betray me.

It takes her long enough that I assume she might be done for the night, and I pull out my phone to scroll as I finish my beer. I almost don’t hear her when she comes back in, and when I look up, it takes effort not to make a sound. This might be the one that kills me.

She has on a sheer lace bra with a cupless corset under it that pushes her breasts so high they almost spill out. The pattern’s the reverse of the one she’d had on first: black with blue and black flowers where there had been white and coral. There’s a matching set of panties as well, but these ones have little ties on either side of her hips, ones that are begging for me to pull at the ribbon. She’s added a set of fuck-me heels this time, too; stilettos that look like they were made to kill with delicate little straps around the ankles.

“And?” She turns around.

“That’s the one.” I manage to sound like I’m not choking on my own tongue.

“Really? I thought you’d say the slutty-looking one with the heart on the butt.”

“Nah. They’re all good. But if he’s sophisticated and likes taking his time, this one’s the one.”

“And if he’s not? Then the heart one?” she asks.

THIRTEEN

Hazel

“If he’s not,then it doesn’t matter. He’ll want you any way he can have you.” His eyes drift up my body and land on my face; something flashes across his that I can’t read before he presses his lips together like he’s getting ready to say something else. My heart thuds faster in my chest with anticipation. I’m ready for him to tell me to go put on one of my old T-shirts, my fingers twitching with eagerness to pull this outfit off and put it on, but he just downs the last swig of his beer and takes the bottle to the kitchen.

“I think I’m gonna head up for the night,” he announces before he rinses the bottle out and sets it on the counter.

I blink at his abrupt exit. I trail after him a moment later, trying to come up with an excuse for him not to vanish to the guest room. Then I see the cake boxes.

“Wait!” I call when he heads for the steps. He pauses and looks back at me over his shoulder. “The cake tasting.”

“You know I’m not much on sweets.” That much was true. He didn’t care for them much and was picky about the ones he liked. “I’ll leave that to you.”

“I need an outside opinion. Curtis already left it to me, and I want help with it.” I’m grasping at straws here, but I’m not done torturing him yet—not if he could walk away so easily.

I see a muscle in his jaw move, and his shoulders sag slightly in resignation. My heart takes off again with the hope that I’ll wear him down yet. He looks back at the mountain of boxes from the bakeries.

“Why isn’t Marlowe doing your cake? Seems like that would make it simple.”

“She’s a bridesmaid. I’m already asking too much of her.”

“Did she say that?” he asks doubtfully.

“No, but you know how she is. She’d do anything for me, and I don’t want her stressed out over my wedding. Even if she says she’s happy to do it,” I counter with the inevitable points he’s going to have upfront.

“Fine. But pick two or three. I’m not doing them all.”

“Four.”

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