The Bachelor Society Duet: The Bachelors Club by SARA NEY

Author:SARA NEY [NEY, SARA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Three Legacies, LLC
Published: 2021-01-30T18:00:00+00:00

21

Abbott

It takes Brooks a few seconds to notice me standing at the entry to the living room, framed by the doorway, not wearing any pants. Takes him so long to notice I actually have to clear my throat to get his attention off the television, and when he moves his neck to glance in my direction, it’s in slow motion.

Takes another silent moment for him to notice I’ve donned the smoking jacket. My lack of pants.

His reaction is delayed. Stunned. “Wh…at a-are you doing in that jacket? T-Take it off!” he damn near shouts, panic in his eyes. Legitimate panic.

Lord, what on earth is his problem?

Why on earth would he be panicked that I’m wearing this dumb jacket? It’s outerwear, for crying out loud, not the precious tears of a unicorn or a diamond he must protect with his life.

He needs to relaxi-taxi. “You need to calm down.”

“You need to take that off.”

If he notices my hands trembling, he’s polite enough not to mention it. “That is part of the plan.”

“Take it off.”

Duh, I’m getting to that part and he’s ruining it.

“You want the jacket off? Fine. I’ll take the jacket off.” I slide it down my arms, shrugging it off, enjoying the feel of the rich velvet on my bare skin and the dazed countenance flashing across his eyes.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. Abbott…” Brooks’ voice is hoarse. “Where are your clothes?”

Why is he asking where my clothes are? What does it matter? He either cares that I’m naked and wants to see my bare skin, or he doesn’t. I’m naked over here and all he seems to care about is this dumb coat?

“My clothes are on the laundry room floor.”

This conversation is humiliating. Brooks was right; I’m not the type of girl who can pull off a lap dance—I can’t even get the approach nailed down, standing in front of him now like a defeated puppy dog.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe I should get dressed. Maybe I shouldn’t give him a lap dance. It seemed like a good idea at the time, moments ago when I spotted the coat hanging above his washing machine, taunting me.

Daring me to take a chance.

In my defense, Brooks never said I couldn’t try it on. Then again, he didn’t exactly give me permission, either.

Too late now.

The luxurious fabric lies in a heap at my bare feet and I am wearing my birthday suit. “Do you want me to cover up?” He’s already seen my pussy—had his mouth on it—so what’s a fantastic pair of breasts thrown into the mix to get the guy twisted up?

My boobs are quite fantastic.

I stick my chest out, posturing, letting him look his fill. “If you want me to cover all this up, say ‘Abbott, go get dressed. I do not want to see you naked.’”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, head gives a jerky nod I can’t translate.

I cup a hand around my ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” I step closer, one foot after the other, creeping slowly like a tigress stalking her prey—Desdemona would be proud.

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