Eyeing the package, I wondered why he’d decided to leave it here instead of giving it to me at home, but I didn’t linger on the thought too long as I tugged the ribbon free and lifted the lid.
Honestly, I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it hadn’t beenthis. The moment I shifted the white tissue paper aside and realized what I was looking at, I slammed the lid back down, then scooped up the package and carried it to the small women’s bathroom—the one place in this firehouse, surrounded by men, where I could have some privacy.
Sliding the box onto the counter, I once again lifted the lid and brushed aside the tissue paper, inspecting my gift.
Lane had given melingerie. And not just any lingerie, but black lace, the panties a barely-there scrap of fabric that was sheer enough to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not that he hadn’t seen it all already. The bra was a sort of racerback style, the sides and back lace, the straps a normal, flexible material that dipped down to the cups, which were mainly underwire with a little clasp between them. The only modesty came in the form of a bow that tied across the front, which would likely cover my nipples but not much else. My boobs weren’t huge, but they were still perky and, according to Lane, “the perfect handful.”
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I was about to text him, then had a better idea.
An idea I’d have to save for later when I wasn’t at work.
Someone was always awake at the firehouse during shifts, even if it was the middle of the night like now, and I wasn’t taking my chances.
Especially when one of my co-workers was Lane’s brother.
I gave into a shiver before gathering the box under my arm and heading toward the locker room, storing it in my bag.
As was always the case, I couldn’t wait to get home.
When I got homeon Valentine’s Day, Lane helped me relax before I took my post-shift nap with his face between my thighs. When he left for work, I went to bed. I slept like the dead, my alarm jarring me awake at noon, but I found myself excited for the day ahead. Even in my dreams, my mind had played fantasies of what would happen when I set my little plan in motion, of how Lane would react, of how we’d subsequently spend our night.
I’d never been in a relationship for Valentine’s Day, and I was looking forward to making it special for both myself and Lane.
After breakfast and coffee, I went down to Lane’s home gym and put in an hour of exercise between the treadmill and lifting weights. Then, I hopped in the shower, spending another hour going through an extensive self-care and grooming routine, taking great pains to shave, buff, and exfoliate every inch of my skin.
By the time all of that was completed, I headed upstairs to my (former) room, dug the gift box out of my work backpack, and put on the lingerie Lane had bought for me.
Once the bow was secured, the ribbon covering my nipples, I went back to Lane’s room to survey myself in the large, arch-shaped mirror that sat on the floor in the corner.
Damn, I look good.
The bra and panties fit me perfectly, no sagging or tightness to be found anywhere. The bow of the bra pulled my tits together and pushed them up, making them look incredible. The lace of the panties offered tantalizing glimpses of both the seam of my pussy and the crease of my ass.
Swiping my phone off the bed, I positioned myself exactly how I wanted to begin taking pictures.
First, a shot from behind, my hair a long curtain down my back, my head angled so I offered a sultry look over my shoulder.
Then one from the front, my arm raised behind my head, hip cocked, my bottom lip trapped between my teeth.
Satisfied with my work, I texted Lane.
ME
You alone?
LANE
Sitting in my office drowning in paperwork. Why?
ME
Then I’m sure you could use a little pick me up
[photo message]
[photo message]
LANE
