The moment she’s gone, I drop my face into my hands.
Stupid, stupid man.
This Jekyll and Hyde attraction is out of control.
That’s what I want to marry you in?
Who am I turning into?
I don’t have time for more complications, let alone the self-inflicted kind.
She’s my baby sister’s best friend and we’re not just doing this for kicks, much less love.
No matter how I tried to make up for it, she’s also the girl I teased relentlessly when we were kids.
Not a girl I can fuck anytime this century.
Only, she’s getting naked inmyroom. That’s where my mind keeps going. The thought of ripping that dress off her and marking up what’s underneath.
Exposing every inch of that creamy skin for my wolfish mouth.
Her tits.
Her throat.
Her tight little pussy.
Fuck!
When I inhale, I’m snarling, almost inhuman.
This is what leading with my dick does.
I kissed her once and now she’s an unhealthy obsession.
I knew this dress show would pulverize my mind.
The door opens and the gaggle of women exit first, stampeding out with dresses hanging from their hands, offering me smiles and a few giggles as they explain they’ve left Hattie with the dress she’s wearing, since I liked it so much.
“Not to worry!” one of them says. “It’s a stunner, truly one of a kind. Amazing choice.”
I wish I could give a fuck about the dress itself.
Or the only thing that should really matter—Hattie likes it.
Not just because I’m ready to offer up my soul to see it fall off her.
The moment they’re gone, I head into the bedroom.
Hattie stands still in the dress, one hand on her stomach, frowning at her reflection in the full-length mirror.
The silky back is undone so she can step out of it without assistance, and I can see her smooth skin.
Also, the fact that she isn’t wearing a bra.
My imagination spits fire.
Leaning against the doorway, I try to calm down without leaving teeth marks in my wrist like the carnivorous fucknut I am.
