Page 59 of Blitz'd

What kind of life did he live before he met me? And why don’t I care that what I want more than anything is to ruin him for any life that I’m not in?

“Uh, Kerian?” His voice pitches up just a little when he realizes what store we’re headed to. He kept swiveling his head when we passed other shops, but his eyes are wide as I drag him into a lingerie store.

“What?” I say it as innocently as I can, dragging him forward and shoving him in front of me to stand by a mannequin with a red bralette and panties on. “Do you think you’re more a red or a blue?”

“Me?” Zander’s voice comes out in a little hitched gasp, and the grin that crosses my face is probably just a little unhinged. “What do you mean, me?”

I ignore his question and reach around him, picking up a pair of dark purple underwear. “Hm… maybe this?” When I hold it up to him, I feel my cock give a little twitch that sends a small shiver through my body.

All I can see behind my lids is Zander in silk, his long, strong legs hugged by stockings and a garter, his cock straining against a pair of panties, and his nipples hard beneath a bralette that barely fits his upper body.

Fuck. It’s more than a twitch in my jeans. I’m half hard and my fingers clench on the silk I’m holding.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea—because this isn’t doing what I wanted it to do. I wanted to embarrass him, and sure… his skin is a pretty, flushed pink. But I also wanted to prove to myself that I don’tneedanything more from this.

But now my brain is imagining coming back to my apartment and Zander spread out on my sheets in nothing but this shit.

Fuck.

Fuck me.

And Isee itwhen Zander notices.

His eyes widen, trailing between the expression on my face and my obviously hard dick… and the little shit leans forward, pulling the underwear from my hand and tossing them back onto the pile. When he leans into me, his voice is soft.

“I’m really more of a red kind of guy.”

What thefuck? I brought him here to let him know that if he was going to call me hisboyfriend, I was going to make it awkward for him.

And instead, the little fucker turns around and rummages through the display behind me until he comes up with a handful of crimson… and then he walks off toward the dressing room without looking back.

My gaze flicks around—there’s barely anyone in here, and the associate isn’t even at the front desk. I catch a glimpse of her somewhere in the back of the store, hanging bras on a rack.

Perfect.

If Zander thinks he’s going to win whatever little game we’ve started playing, he has another thing coming.

I catch up to him just as he’s closing the dressing-room door and slip inside with him. His eyes go wide a second before I press him against the wall, but the moan that comes from his mouth when I cover his lips with mine is sinful. I kiss him until he’s near liquid in my arms, and only break it when I lean back to yank his shirt over his head.

“What are you doing?” He’s half dazed when he asks, and my hands drop to his jeans so I can flick the top button open.

“You picked out what you wanted, Dimples. Now you’re going to give me a little fashion show.”

The red of his blush chases along his skin and makes his cheeks flame, but his fucking nipples are hard in the cool air of the room we’re in, and he doesn’t move when I glide my hand up his chest and give one a hard pinch.

“I—”

“Come on, Zander.” His pupils slightly dilate when I say his name, and I step in, sliding my thumbs into the loops of his jeans so I can wiggle them down his thighs. “Get pretty for me.”

“Fuck.” He hisses, but his hips roll forward when I drop my hand behind the waistband of his underwear, and he’s hard under my palm. “Fuck you, Kerian.”

“Do you need help?” The question comes out husky, and he stands still like a mouse caught in the eyes of a snake. I pull the bralette from him and dangle it on a finger, then lean forward and take one of his nipples between my teeth, biting gently before soothing the sting with my tongue.

“We’re going to get caught,” he hisses again, but when I smooth my hands along his arms, he raises them up so I can slip the fabric over his broad shoulders.

For someone who obviously had no intentions of me following him, he still picked the largest size, like he wanted to make sure it looked good. It doesn’t fit him perfectly, but the fabric still pulls past the swell of his muscles and rests tight and strained against his chest.

Fuck, is it hotter because he looks like he’s about to rip out of it? My eyes drop to the panties in his hand, and I cock one brow, holding my fingers out.

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