Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
“Let’s say they accentuate a part of you I like,” he replies, making my heart skip a beat. “Really, really like.”
He’s talking about my huge breasts, and how the material of my shirt stretches over them, holding them tightly in place like two juicy globes. I know it’s wrong for us to converse like this, but it just sort of started happening, and I haven’t been able to stop. I like it too much, even if he’s technically the man of the house.
“Well?” Hunter texts after a short pause.
“Well, what?” I text back.
“I need a visual,” he replies. “Which dress shirt are you wearing?” I glance up from my phone and see Angela opening one of the boxes from the delivery. She’s got a frown on her face and seems to be complaining to the delivery man about something. Immediately, I text Hunter back.
“Pale pink,” I reply.
“Mmm,” he writes in return. “I love that one.”
“I had no idea you could tell my work shirts apart,” I tease.
“Are you kidding me?” he replies. “They look so hot on you. The pink one especially.”
“Why’s that?” I text back coyly, my heart pounding.
Three dots flicker on the screen as he types.
“Somehow, that shirt makes your tits look even bigger,” comes his reply.
I giggle under my breath, my cheeks going hot. But Hunter’s still typing, and I wait for more while keeping one eye on Angela in the hallway.
“If I worked at Herald, I’d never get anything done,” his text says.
“Kind of like now?” I reply sassily. “If you’re texting me, then how much work could you possibly be getting done?”
“I should spank that tasty ass of yours,” he replies immediately, and the thought of his large palm on my rear-end makes me run hot. We live in the same house, but we don’t talk like this at home because we’re not alone in the small space. My stepbrother, Alex, also occupies the cottage, and it would be awkward if Alex sensed something amiss. As a result, Hunter and I have kind of been avoiding each other at home, because we don’t want to arouse any suspicions. Fortunately, Alex doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. It’s definitely better not to rock the boat.
But avoiding each other at home is hard. Hunter is so handsome that I’d love nothing more than to talk like this freely with him outside of the confines of this sexting thing we’ve got going on. In fact, I’d love for us to take it even further than that, but it would simply be too scandalous. It’s one thing to exchange dirty texts with my stepdad. It’s another thing entirely to let him take my virginity. Heck, I don’t even think Hunter knows I’m a virgin. My texts give the impression that I’m a worldly young woman, although of course, the opposite is actually true.
“I wouldn’t mind some spanking,” I text back with a smile on my face. “But then it wouldn’t be much of a punishment, would it?”
“You’re right,” he replies. “I’ll have to think of something else to put you in your place,” he adds. I’m about to reply, when I hear Angela dismiss the delivery man and the click-clack sound of heels heading my way. I hurriedly throw my phone into my purse and when I look up, who but Angela has entered my office. The middle-aged woman is carrying one of the boxes from the delivery trolley.
“Okay,” my manager breezes, “let’s give these things a try.”
“Sure,” I reply, trying to sound as peppy as possible. I stand up to join Angela by the copy machine in the corner, where a space console was set up earlier this morning by the janitor. I guess I’m about to find out what it’s for. Angela has plonked the box down and is now lifting out whatever it contains.
“Have you used one of these before?” she asks. I look down at the chrome apparatus on the console.
“Um, well what is it?” I ask sheepishly.
“A mechanical stapler,” Angela says as if I’m an idiot.
“Right,” I nod politely. “In that case, no, sorry.”
“It’s easy,” she says, and sets about showing me how to use it. But all I can focus on is the sound of my phone vibrating in my purse as Hunter continues to text me, and I pray that Angela can’t hear it. I don’t think there are any rules against having your cell on in your purse if you’re not using it, but I don’t want to find out.
To my relief, it seems my manager was telling the truth about the mechanical stapler being easy to use, because she’s already done with her demonstration.
“Before you go home today, distribute the rest of the staplers to the other offices, would you Elle?” she asks, and with a few clacks of her heels but without so much as a “please” or “thank you,” she’s out of my office.