Nope. It’s not that easy.
Lucy and I walk every inch of three stores, looking at every dress on all the racks before she finally picks a few to try on. I didn’t pay much attention to the items she took into the dressing room, but when she walks out in the first dress – a bright red one – I instantly think of the woman in the porno last night.
Now, Lucy is in a similar short, tight strapless dress, and I want to see her hand between her legs.
“What do you think of this one?” Lucy asks as she turns this way and that in front of the floor length mirrors while my cock swells to dangerous levels. “I couldn’t wear it to the wedding because it’s too…flirty, but maybe the rehearsal dinner…”
“Get it!” I blurt out.
“Really?” she asks when she meets my pained gaze in the mirror.
“Yeah. It’s…good.”
“As long as I don’t bend over!” she remarks before demonstrating, leaning forward to touch her toes and, holy fuck, flashing me her ass cheeks and the black strip of thong between them. It’s one position I hadn’t thought of doing her in my fuck fantasies, standing behind her while she’s bent over, but I sure as hell will now. In fact, my dick is so hard I’m not sure if I can wait until I get home to get some relief.
“So don’t bend over!” I exclaim a little too intensely while glancing around the store to make sure no one else is watching, withholding from saying the rest of my thoughts, unless you’re in front of me.
“Yeah, it should be fine,” she easily agrees as she smooths her palms down the sides. “Guess I’ll try on the next one.”
“Good idea,” I agree through gritted teeth while I try to think about the parts of a motorcycle engine to calm myself down.
I’ve just gotten my cock under control when Lucy comes back out in a sweet, flowy navy-blue dress with big pink flowers on it and those tiny straps on her shoulders. It’s cute yet short enough to be sexy, just like her.
“I’m not sure if this one is dressy enough for the wedding but maybe with some heels,” she says as she examines herself in the mirror.
And just like that, I’m hurting again, picturing myself between her legs, the bottom of the short dress shoved up to her chest and her heels digging in my ass as I pound inside of her.
Okay, this constant obsession of sex with Lucy going on in my head seriously needs to fucking stop!
It’s been way too long since I’ve been with an actual woman. Apparently, my body can’t seem to stop gearing up for the event, like it’s trying its best to convince me to cave and just get inside the closest female already. No, it wants Lucy specifically. I want Lucy, and I’m not sure how much longer I can resist her.
“So now that I’ve got my dresses, I just need a cute outfit and maybe another bikini in case the pool is open!” the object of my desire states, forcing me to swallow my groan.
“I’ll wait for you at the car,” I mutter before I get up and stiffly make my way out to the parking lot. I did my part. I helped her find dresses, but I can’t take anymore! Looking at her in…anything has me on a hair-trigger.
I shouldn’t blame myself.
This is all Ellie’s fault.
If she hadn’t married me, then left and fucked me over, I would’ve been with so many women by now I wouldn’t even think of touching Lucy.
Probably.
While I lean against the side of the brick building rather than her pussy purple car, I check out other women passing by, trying to decide within five seconds if I would fuck them or not.
There’s nothing, not even a twitch from my dick as tall, short, skinny, curvy, light and dark, beautiful women of all types pass by. Some even shoot me a smile and a look of appreciation, making their interest in me obvious.
But nope. I don’t want any of them. Just Lucy.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucy
Nash is quiet on the way home. Which isn’t that unusual. I assume that our shopping trip turned into more than he bargained for, which is why he says, “I’m going up to take a nap,” as soon as he drops off the bags of my purchases right inside my apartment.
“Okay. I’ll come up later and make dinner,” I offer.
“Let’s just order in tonight. I can come down here when I get up,” Nash offers.
“Sure,” I agree before he takes off.
I don’t think he’s been to my apartment since the night we delivered the money, when I thought something was possibly going to happen between us before my mom called. I gather up a load of laundry, including the same strawberry pajamas to start them so they’ll be ready tonight before tidying up.
While I’m working, I get a notice on my phone that Nash is on the internet but don’t bother snooping on him until I get all my new purchases put away.
Finally, I stretch out on my bed with my laptop to relieve my tired feet and see what he’s up to.
The last thing I expected to see mirrored from his screen was me. He’s on my Instagram profile, clicking on various photos.
Huh. That’s strange and random. A little stalkerish, but who am I to judge. In fact, if anything, I’m thrilled that he wants to find out more about me since he’s never really offered to get to know me. Our time together over the last week or so has been mostly eating and watching television, not talking.
I watch each of the posts as he goes along, trying to figure out what he thinks about my photos with friends back home, some with Barry, and the vacation pics. In fact, he seems to spend
