Page 15 of Destined for the Devil
"Are you just a secret shopper, and you never get to experience it because you're always doing...whatever you're doing? What do you actually do?" And fuck, there was that dreaded question.
"I own a construction company." I brushed her off quickly. "What's your bra size?" I had no idea what on earth got into me and why I was so unashamed of my actions. Red burst onto her cheeks, and I fucking loved making her feel that way. "You going to tell me, or you want me to guess?" I glued my eyes to her chest and knew I was completely crossing all lines.
"Thirty-four, C. I hate pink and blue colors, so please don't buy any of that, and also, I will need some strapless bras. One must be black, and the other nude. I alsodoneed just plain cotton panties. I like to wear white, black, and fun colorful ones with silly pictures, like cats or lemons or something. I'm going to go brush my teeth. Knock yourself out."
Isla rolled off the bed while I sat there completely blinded from finding out all her lingerie preferences. She was definitely feeling better today or was just so embarrassed at having to reveal such personal details that she made her way to the bathroom way faster than I'd seen her walk yet.
My smile was uncontrollable. I just sat there beaming like an idiot. God-damn, I was enjoying this too fucking much.
I browsed the website and picked out what I thought she would like and also what I knew I definitely liked, not like I was actually going to see it on her. Was I planning to fuck her? No. I had no plans, only wishes. A guy could dream.
Once I purchased all the bras and thongs I thought she would like, I looked for a few purses since I noticed she didn’t pick any of those. Then, a couple of evening dresses.
There was an event coming up in a few weeks, and I saw her beside me, wearing a strapless dress, or one with straps; it didn’t matter, I just wanted her there. I needed to show up with a woman, and there was no fucking way I would have anyone else on my arm now. Only her.
9
Delulu Roman
Roman
Afterdinner,Iturnedthe contents of my drawers upside down, frantically searching for this cufflink. I couldn't believe I misplaced it! My sister gifted it to me for my twenty-fifth birthday, and I was always so careful with this gift.
I meticulously inspected every single drawer and shelf in my closet—nothing. I was emotionally attached to this gift—I’d sift through the whole apartment if I had to.
The cufflinks were actually very silly. It was two cupcakes, one with white frosting and the other with pink. It was the most unserious piece ofanythingI owned, but I cherished this gift with my life.
My sister loved to bake, and I loved to eat whatever new creations she came up with, but my favorite were her cupcakes. She always poked fun at me and said that I was a brutal man but enjoyed dainty girly desserts, so for my birthday, she got the cufflinks custom-made with my initials. I loved them, just the way I loved her baking and just the way I loved her.
I checked every single shirt that came back from the dry cleaners and all the clothes that my cleaner neatly folded for me that morning. Nothing. In the laundry room, I got on my hands and knees and looked around the floor; maybe one cufflink got stuck in a sleeve and fell out. Nothing. Damn it, what the fuck.
In a last-ditch effort, for some reason I opened the dryer, thinking that maybe it somehow got tangled up with all my other clothes that werewashed for me that day. I ran my hand on the bottom of the drum, but instead of a cufflink, I pulled out a lacy red thong and immediately forgot what I was doing in the laundry room.
I recognized it right away; I bought this for Isla when she moved in a week ago, and she seemed to have forgotten to take it out of the dryer when she did her laundry. It was soft and silky, it weighed nothing, and I held it up to see that it fucking barely coveredanything.Ugh, fuck, in one second, images of her wearing it overpowered my brain. I stared at the material, but my mind was seeing myself pulling it off her.
Dear Jesus, I needed to get a fucking grip. Hypnotized, I imagined hooking my finger on the incredibly flimsy waistband and slowly tugging it down, letting it slide on her smooth skin. There was no way to stop my mind from descending into dirty thoughts.
What should I do with it?
What a ridiculous question crossed my mind! Obviously, I had to give it back to her—I wasn’t going to keep it like a fucking psycho. But maybe I could? She would eventually figure out one of her thongs was missing, but for now—
For now, what?! Snap the fuck out of it. Holy shit, this woman had driven me completely crazy! I was considering keeping her lingerie, like an absolute lunatic!
Before my mind wandered into uncharted territory, I forced my legs to move and almost jogged to her room before I stuffed the thong in my pocket and walked away. I knocked lightly, impatiently waiting for her to answer.
"Come in." A gentle voice rang out from behind the door and flooded my entire body with dopamine.
Hesitantly, I swung the door open and saw the angel sitting on her bed, painting her toenails. Her leg was stretched out, and she had to lean over to reach her toes, probably because she couldn't keep her knees bentfor long.
"Hi Roman! I didn't realize you were home already!" Her smile was radiant, and her greeting was so joyous. God, she was always so polite and genuine, and it made me just want to melt into a puddle in front of her.
I stood for a second longer and devoured her with my eyes. Isla had her hair in a high ponytail and was wearing a white t-shirt and short white shorts. She looked fucking stunning no matter what she was wearing or not wearing, and after every interaction, I wondered if I spent more time than was acceptable just staring at her.
“I found something that belongs to you. In the dryer." Jesus, could have at least greeted her back. She closed the nail polish and looked up at me expectantly.
"Oh?" She encouraged me once she climbed off the bed and half limped a step closer. Right. The thong. I had to give it back. I took my hand out of my pocket and stretched out my arm toward her, the red material feeling so good in my hand.
A few seconds of confusion followed, but then it dawned on her what it was. Her face flushed red, matching the color of the thong that rested so perfectly in my palm.
