FORCED MARRIAGE WITH THE GANGSTA BILLIONAIRE
I don’t mean to go as far as I do, but my hand and my arm kind of drag the zipper down all on their own, and it goes like butter.
It means that as I leap away, my hands already rocketing up to my eyes, the dress shivers away from Sharon’s body, becoming a separate entity again, to pool at her feet. I catch more than an eyeful of creamy skin, silky white stockings, white lacey panties, a white garter, and, uh, nothing after that.
I slap my hands over my eyes, tout suite. “Oh my god,” I groan. “I’m sorry. I know you’ll never believe me, but that was an accident.”
Sikat na Kabanata