“You took my underwear out of the bathroom so I’d have to wear one of these, didn’t you?”
“Oh, look at the time. We really should go, don’t you think? We’ll be late for this amazing date you planned, and that would be a shame.”
I pointed toward the doorway. “Get the hell out.”
He barked a laugh.
“I’m serious. You don’t get to watch me put these on.”
His smile dropped, transforming to a pout. “But your ass will look so good. Don’t you want me to see?”
“Nope. Nuh-uh. Get out of here, you wanker.”
“Wanker?” he said with a laugh. “You’ve been watching too much British TV, babe.”
“Fine. Get out of here, you dick!”
He laughed and retreated, leaving me to pull on his little prank unless I wanted to go commando. A thought popped into my head, and I crossed the room to tug openhisunderwear drawer.
Damn it. He was too smart. He’d already cleared it out too.
With a grumble, I stepped into the little panties. It wasn’t that I wasopposedto sexy underwear, even of the feminine variety. It’s just that I hated to let Damon get away with a prank.
I went into the bathroom and locked the door so he couldn’t spy on me, then tugged them up my thighs, cramming my dick into the too-small compartment. “Fuck, these are tiny,” I muttered.
My dick, even soft, made the fabric bulge lewdly, and my balls kept trying to escape out the side. I rearranged my junk three times and finally got myself situated enough to move on.
Next, I pulled on some jeggings that were skin-tight—at least they’d keep my balls in place in that tiny scrap of underwear—and a low-cut, clingy maroon top that exposed most of my pectoral muscle. I added a matching red choker made of ribbon, gave my eyelids a dusting of shimmery blue to match my hair, and slicked on some lipgloss because Damon always stared at my lips like a desperate man when they were nice and shiny.
I made a kissy face in the mirror, spreading the gloss evenly, then winked at my reflection. All right, time to get this show on the road.
I joined Damon in the living room. His gaze trailed over me from top to bottom, and he swallowed hard enough his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I hope you don’t expect me to keep my hands to myself all evening.”
“I would be offended if you did.”
That was all the permission Damon needed. He closed the space between us, and his hands went straight to my ass, cupping my cheeks. He leaned in, but bypassed my mouth in favor of kissing my neck with a groan.
“So fucking hot, Mav.”
I chuckled, my hands gripping and squeezing his bicep. It seemed like yesterday I’d caught myself lingering on these muscles and scolding myself for it. Now I could touch as much as I wanted. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Damon had cleaned up in a set of dark jeans and a royal blue button-down, squarely in the nice but casual category. But then, he had no idea what the date was, so that seemed fair.
“Let’s go,” I suggested.
“Yes. Sooner we go, sooner we get home and I get to peel you out of these clothes and see you in your anniversary gift.”
I snorted. “What makes you think I’m going to let you see that?”
He let out a whine—an actualwhine—at the idea of being deprived of that sight. “Pleeease.”
“I shouldn’t reward a prank. I should make you regret it.”
“And you will,” he soothed. “After you let me peel off your panties with my teeth.”
I shuddered, my cock trying to stir.
Abort, abort! I wasn’t sure how much pressure this flimsy fabric could take.
