Love and Lingerie

by Lacey Black

  “Dangerous. Definitely dangerous. I haven’t seen him in over five months, and his plane lands at eight tonight. I want to be naked by eight oh five.”

  “Well, then let’s get you ready to greet your husband, though you may want to wait to get naked until you’re home. I’m sure all of the other soldiers and spouses would appreciate it,” I tell her with a laugh, leading her through the store to the more risqué section.

  She spends a few minutes browsing the selection, but when her eyes land on the black bustier and thong set, I know she’s sold. “That will look amazing with your tanned skin.”

  “You think?” she asks, holding up the bustier and glancing in the mirror.

  Leaning in, I whisper, “You’ll have him panting like a dog and making a baby in no time.”

  Her eyes twinkle with glee. “I want this one.”

  I dig in the small stack for her size, guesstimating her at a thirty-four C. “Let’s try this on real quick,” I say, grabbing a medium panty and escorting her to the changing room. Adrian checks her watch, her eyes frantic with nerves, and dips into the curtained room. “What about stockings? You’re wearing a skirt. Those will be a delightful treat,” I holler through the curtain, sorting through the black nylons and finding her size.

  “Do you think?” she asks, the sound of zipper teeth sliding and clothes dropping filling the room.

  “Definitely. Let me know when you’re ready to be snapped in back.” With nylons and a garter belt in hand, I meet her at the curtain and wait for my cue.

  “Ready.”

  I slip inside and help fasten the tiny black snaps. I give her privacy and avoid looking in the mirror, but notice the way the black material hugs her torso beautifully. It’s a perfect fit. “Here, put these on too,” I tell her, handing off the garter and nylons.

  “You don’t think it’ll be too much?” she asks, concern flitting through her ocean eyes.

  I grab her arms and give them a gentle squeeze. “He’ll die. Trust me.” With a wink, I slip out of the room and head to the counter to start ringing her up.

  A few minutes later, Adrian joins me at the counter, her hands nervously running down her sides. “I can’t believe I’m wearing this.”

  “You’re going to bring him to his knees,” I reassure.

  Adrian glances at her watch and panics. “Oh my God, his plane is landing in two and a half hours. I have to pick up his parents at their house and drive to the airport.”

  “You’ve got this, Adrian,” I tell her as she hands me her credit card without even waiting for the total.

  “Eighty-five sixteen,” I tell her, handing over a small bag for her to place the undergarments she arrived in.

  “Wait, that’s not right,” she says as I swipe the card.

  “The garter belt is on me,” I tell her with a wink.

  “You don’t have to…”

  Handing her back her card and tearing off the slip of paper to sign, I reply with a warm smile, “I know. Now go make a baby.”

  Her eyes hold unshed tears as she offers me another smile. “Thank you.”

  I have to fight my own tears as I reply, “You’re welcome. Now go. And tell me how he liked his surprise!” I add before she flies out the door.

  “I will!”

  And then she’s gone, leaving me with a smile and a sadness in my heart.

  Mac was coming home to someone special. How did Latham feel when he got back last month, no one there to pick him up from the airport? He didn’t even tell his parents he was coming home, just showed up on their doorstep. I’m sure it was a wonderful surprise, but how did he feel watching all of the others receive hugs and kisses from their loved ones, while he headed off to the nearest bus stop terminal for a ride to Rockland Falls.

  Suddenly, I want to hug him.

  And kiss him.

  And welcome him home properly.

  My fingers fly through the familiar motions as I close out the register and back up the system. The lights are off and my purse is sitting on the counter as I wait for the final steps to complete. As soon as it does, I shut it down, lock the laptop in the filing cabinet, and make a break for the front door. With my keys in my hand, I set the security system and lock up.

  Outside, I pass a few familiar faces as I head next door to drop my deposit off in the night drop off box. Then, I’m racing across the street to my car. Using the key fob, I open my door and start the engine. The air is off – weird, since I thought I had it on this morning – but instead of turning it back on, I decide to let the warm breeze flow through my car. With all the windows down, I head home to take care of Snuggles and take a quick shower.

  My happy puppy greets me as soon as I slip inside the house, the air conditioning a welcome reprieve from the heat outside. I bend down and give her a quick pet behind the ears before leading her to the back door. She runs off, anxious to do her business, while I head back inside to take a quick shower.

  I don’t wash my hair, but shave and exfoliate all of the important areas. When I’m smooth and clean, I jump out of the shower, anxious to head over to Latham’s. I smother lotion over every square inch of my body, the rich scents of jasmine and vanilla wrapping around me. I touch up my makeup, darkening my eyes in that sultry way I used to do daily, but now save for special occasions.

  Then, I head for my dresser. I already know which one I want. After spending a few minutes with Adrian and feeling the anticipation she was experiencing, I dig out my own black bustier and matching thong set. Mine is an older style, though, with deep red piping and a black lace overlay. Carefully, I snap the back and glance in the mirror. It dips dangerously low, showcasing my cleavage and pushing my breasts together magnificently. The lace thong is sexy, enticing, and bold. Perfect.

  I snap the garter belt into place and roll on a pair of stockings. Then, I return to my closet and find my dark blue sundress. It’s shorter than the others and will barely hide the stockings that hit just above mid-thigh. It too will be perfect. Keeping my hair up, I retwist it into a knot, letting only a few tendrils hang around my face.

  Taking one last look in the mirror, I slip on my too-high strappy sandals, swipe dark gloss over my lips, and head out of my room. I make a quick pit stop at the back door and call Snuggles. She’s not too happy to be coming in from outside, but when I produce a treat from the cabinet, she hightails it out of her doghouse and trots up the back steps like her tail is on fire. It wags furiously as she sits like a good girl and shakes for her treat. After a few more minutes of showering her with affection, I fill her food and water bowls, and make sure she’s settled for the evening.

  Then, I head back to my car.

  It’s only a few blocks from downtown where my business is, and even though I try to keep the windows open to enjoy the early evening breeze, it’s just too hot outside, or maybe I’m a little too nervous. Too sweaty. So I roll up the windows and crank on the air. As soon as I do, I hear a poof sound, and it’s suddenly raining.

  Not liquid, though.

  This is sparkly particles of hell flying through the air and landing everywhere.

  Everywhere.

  Glitter.

  So. Much. Glitter.

  I stop at the stop sign, spitting the sliver sparkles from my mouth and glance around. My entire car is covered in it. My dress. My arms. My face.

  Dirty rotten bastard, son of the devil, asshole jerk!

  He’s. So. Fucking. Dead.

  Flicking it from my eyelashes, I slam on the gas, catapulting through the intersection and racing toward his apartment. My heart is pounding furiously, much like my fists will be shortly. I’m going to kill him, no doubt. This is how it’s going to happen. I always knew it would be murdering Latham that would get me thrown in the pokey, but I never thought it would happen while I was covered in glitter. There’s no way in hell I can cover all the sparkly evidence now, but that’s okay. Leave a trail. I don’t care anymore.

  The
asshole is going down.

  I pull up in front of the hardware store, the closed sign hanging in the window. There’s no way he’ll hear me pounding on the front door if he’s upstairs, so I drive around the back, parking haphazardly in the alley by the back door. I fly out of my seat, raining glitter as I go, stomping up the stairs like I’m storming the castle. I reach the landing and pound, my knuckles hurting under the hard wrap against wood.

  Finally, after a handful of very tense seconds, the door opens and Latham stands before me, all gorgeous and cocky. His lips quirk upward as he tries not to smile, sending my blood boiling to volcanic levels. Then his eyes drop down and his smirk falters. His eyes darken and his breathing hitches. My own heart gallops in my chest as he devours me with his eyes, the evidence of his arousal thick in his pants.

  “Well, good evening, Sweetheart. You’re looking awfully sparkly tonight.” He never takes his eyes off my thighs, and I see red.

  I launch myself at him, ready to scratch out his eyeballs. The force of my leap causes him to stumble, but he rights himself quickly, catching me in his big, stupid arms. I hate the way my body responds to his nearness, his touch. Instead of beating the shit out of him, I find myself wrapped around him like a taco shell, my mouth plastered to his.

  The kiss is full of hunger, urgency, desire. My hands slide effortlessly through his hair, gripping and pulling at the dark strands as he kneads the globes of my ass with strong fingers. No doubt, leaving marks, but I don’t care. I want him to mark me. My back presses into the wall and the door slams, yet he never removes his mouth from mine. He cages me against the drywall, framing my face with his hands. I feel the hard press of his cock between my legs, an ache forming deep in my body. An ache only Latham can quench.

  His hands go to my face and the force of his mouth lightens. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, placing soft, opened-mouthed kisses on my jaw and neck.

  “I hate you.”

  “I know,” he whispers, flexing his hips and grinding his erection into my center. Our collective moans are a mix of pleasure and frustration. I need him. So bad.

  His hands move from my ass to my thighs. “Did you do this for me?” he asks as his fingers graze gently along the black lace trim of the stockings.

  “No. I did it for me,” I reply, raising my chin and meeting his eyes. He knows I’m lying.

  One of his hands slips between my legs, tracing the tie of the garter belt and finding wet panties. “You’re like a present I can’t wait to unwrap.” His finger slips under the material and presses into my clit.

  A rush of breath stills in my throat, and I see stars. Then, suddenly, we’re moving. “Where are we going?” I ask, my voice not sounding like my own.

  His hand sweeps down my jaw and cradles my chin. “To the shower. I don’t want you to get that glitter shit all over my bed. Then you’re putting this outfit back on so I can fuck you in it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Latham

  I knew she’d be pissed; that was a given. But I wasn’t expecting the fireball of lust to slam into my gut the moment I saw her. She’s completely covered in glitter, and I know from recent experience that shit isn’t coming off very easily. Desire mixes with my need to touch her, which is why I’m stalking off to the shower like my life depends on it.

  Inside the small room, I let her slide down my body and reach for the shower knobs. It’s a small water heater and won’t stay hot for long, but that’s all the more reason to hurry up and get to phase two of my new plan: sex. It wasn’t even on the radar as I placed the glitter bomb in her driver’s side air vent, nor when I heard her pounding up my steps. But when I saw her in that dress? That fucking short dress that barely covered the stockings she tried to hide underneath? I was a fucking goner.

  She reaches down to grab the hem of the dark material, but I stop her hand. “Allow me.” My fingers tingle with anticipation as I hold her wide gaze and slowly lift. Not wanting to miss a second of this reveal, I look down and watch as inch by glorious inch, I start to uncover smooth skin. And black lace.

  The stockings are held by a garter belt that already has my cock raging with need. The tiniest strip of lace covers her gorgeous pussy, and something tells me there’s nothing to the backside. I’ll have to check that out soon. As the dress continues to inch up, I find only a sliver of her abdomen before spying more black. I groan in anticipation. My hands are hurried as I pull the dress the rest of the way up and over her head, tossing it somewhere in the room and raining sliver glitter over everything in the process.

  And there she is.

  The most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

  Wearing a black and red bustier and garter belt.

  I almost come in my pants.

  Scrubbing my hands over my face, I continue to memorize every square inch of her delectable body. “Holy shit,” I whisper, drinking my fill of the vision before me.

  Harper shakes her head, sending more particles from hell all over my bathroom floor. My cock is so hard it’s painful, but there’s no way in hell I’m missing this moment. Stepping forward, I reach for her waist and pull her against me so she can feel exactly what she does to my body. With my index finger, I gently run it from the hollow of her throat down to the cleavage pushed up and out by the bustier. Dipping my head down, my tongue follows the same path. She gasps and sways my direction, the hard beat of her heart pounding in her chest.

  “You wore this for me.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

  “And if I did?” she asks, her blue eyes wide with anticipation.

  “Then you will be rewarded.” I nip at the tender flesh of her breast. “Multiples.” A flick of my tongue into the cup of her top hits pay dirt when it meets hard nipple and a ring. “So many you lose count.”

  She shivers against me.

  Reaching behind my neck, I pull my shirt up and over my head and let it fly over my shoulder. Harper’s long fingers frantically work my belt, trying to get to the button beneath. I kick off my boots, sending a silent prayer upstairs that I wore my slip-on ones to work today. When the belt is released and the button unfastened, she dives for my zipper. The bite of the teeth pounds through the small room and sends my blood flowing to my cock.

  Before she can grip the waist and push them down, I kneel before her and grab an ankle. These shoes are dangerously high, little straps wrapping around her delicate ankles. “These will go back on later too,” I inform her before unclasping the buckle and tossing the shoe. The second one follows. Quickly.

  As soon as I stand back up, her hands dive into my waist and my pants are pushed to my knees. My dick is practically weeping in my pants, begging to be released from its confines and touched. Then her hands move into my boxer briefs and wrap around my shaft. Pleasure and pain courses through my blood, stealing my breath and vision. “Fuck,” I ground out, biting back the release that is dangerously close.

  “Oh, I plan on that too,” she sasses, a smirk on her gorgeous face.

  I rip off my socks, unsnap the little buttons at her lower back, and help remove the rest of her outfit. When we’re both completely naked, she grabs my cock and pulls me toward the shower. I go very willingly.

  Inside, the hot water pounds at my back, covering our bodies. Mouths fuse together, tongues battle, and hands grasp. We’re a heated frenzy of lust and desire, recklessly teetering on the edge of sanity. She strokes my cock, a deep growl rips from my gut. My hand reaches for her pussy, my fingers sliding between the wet folds easily. Two fingers plunge inside her warm heat and she gasps, causing my balls to tighten painfully.

  “I’m going to eat this pussy later, Harper,” I inform, letting her know there’s no room for argument. My mouth craves her taste, her release. Her eyes are wide and wild, her hand gripping my shaft and working it over hard. I’m almost to the point of losing control. She almost has me ready to come, just by grabbing my cock.

  I reach for her hips and lift,
her legs wrapping around my waist. I drive into her tight body in one fluid motion, my body elated with satisfaction. Until the need for more overcomes the immediate sensation of being home.

  Home.

  I push that thought out of my head as her hands wrap around my neck and she grinds against me. I pull her up and then bring her back down again. Hard. Her body is tight with the need to come, my own anxious to follow suit. It only takes a handful of pumps before she’s there, coming on my cock and milking it for all it’s worth. My release follows immediately. My spine tingles and my pelvis thrusts. My balls ache as I come hard inside her sweet, tight body.

  My legs wobble, but I don’t set her down. I hold her in my arms and touch every inch of her body with my hand. The other helps anchor us to the wall and keeps us from falling. Her lips are soft and pliant as I take them with my own in a gentle kiss that promises more to come.

  Her legs start to slide, so I gingerly set her down. Her hair is up, yet matted to her face as the water cascades down every inch of her sparkly body. Without saying a word, I remove the clip and pins from her hair, watching as it falls around her shoulders. Glitter falls everywhere. I guide her back until the water is hitting the top of her head, making sure it’s completely saturated. Then I grab my shampoo and squirt a healthy glob in my palm. I’ve never done this before, and as I lather up the soap in my hands, it makes me happy I’ve saved yet another first for Harper.

  As my fingers start to work into her hair, her eyes flutter closed and her mouth gapes open. A soft moan slides effortlessly from her lips as I use my fingertips to scrub her scalp, hoping I can remove as much of the glitter as possible. I already know it’ll take several washes to get it all off her scalp. The sadistic side of me hopes she gets all worked up and pissed every time she combs her hair and sees the sparkle. Maybe she’ll think of me.

  And probably want to cut off my balls.

  I rinse away the suds, careful not to get any in her eyes. As soon as it’s free of soap, I grab the washcloth and throw some shower gel in the middle. I don’t have any conditioner, or any of that fancy, fruity shit girls like to rub on their skin, but the fact that she’s going to smell like my soap – like me – has me all sorts of pleased with myself.