Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
She nods, a little coldly and tells me “uh huh,” then murmurs for me to stand and hold still while she makes a chalk mark here, puts a pin there. The other pins moving in between her lips as she fights to avoid eye contact with me in the mirrors.
It’s good news, but if I’m gonna get anywhere with Ashlee I need to explain things.
Tell her it's Brett getting married, not me.
I know she’s cute when she’s mad but I’d never want to hurt her feelings, especially over a stupid misunderstanding.
I’ve never been tongue-tied in my life either. Today’s a first for a lot of things, and in between me trying to begin to explain, she orders me to stand straight so she can slip the jacket off.
“We’ll do two, just in case,” she says, almost to herself.
“Ashlee, I...” I start, wanting to reach out to her. To touch her arm, but she’s got jackets folded over both her arms.
She looks up at me, crimping her lips.
“About this wedding…” I continue, willing myself to say I’m the best man, not the groom.
Her eyes widen in a question, and I’m about to come clean when the store phone rings loudly, Mark calling out even louder from the back asking Ashlee to answer it as we both hear him drop something and swear under his breath.
She holds up a finger, silently instructing me to hold that thought, and carefully keeping the suit jackets folded over one arm, she moves swiftly behind another counter to answer the phone.
It takes all my self-control to stand still and just watch.
Every instinct in me just wants to march on over, pick her up and put her over my shoulder, and carry her upstairs.
Take her to what I already imagine is a tiny little space, toss her down onto her bed and tear her clothes off with my teeth.
Pulling her sweet pussy up to my aching cock by her ankles and burying myself balls deep inside her until she screams my name.
It’s what she’s done to me. All in the space of a few minutes.
I’ve gone from Brandon Silver, best man here for a suit fitting to a caged animal pounding against the bars, watching the lock finally about to give way.
The beast in me is about to be unleashed, finally.
It’s her. I know it is.
She’s the one.
Ashlee.
Spying her business cards on an opposite counter, I pocket a couple swiftly, making sure she doesn’t see as I pretend to browse and look interested in wedding stuff.
I make a mental note of her website and social media links as I tuck them in my pocket.
She looks pained by her call, but there’s also a look of sad longing in her eyes as she steals glances over to me.
A sadness I know I have to remove from her life.
And I have just the remedy that I know will help us both.
Chapter Five
Ashlee
Like I said, Mark and Cynthia. Greatest bosses in the world and they’ve both helped me so much.
But just for once, I wish neither of them was here right now. Today of all days, with Brandon coming in like this after hours I just wish I could have him all to myself, even for just an hour or so.
But, it was Mark who was supposed to be fitting him for his suit after all.
It’s a silly fantasy I know, and one I shouldn’t even let myself have.
But the man is just so… perfect in every way.
Why is he so offhand about his own wedding though? And could I really be with someone who has such a roaming eye anyway?
If he’s eyeing me he must have some kind of mental problem, maybe one of those sex addictions or something.
It takes all I have, but I try to push it all to the back of my mind and focus on what I do best, making clothes.
I think I’m coping until the phone rings again. Mark shouts out for me to answer it, sounding like he’s having some problems of his own in the back.
It’s after hours, but that’s when things can actually get busy for us.
Wedding plans are made way in advance, leaving plenty of time for things to go wrong at the last moment, which they often do. Regular like clockwork.
I pick up, and sure enough, it’s a frantic client. The wedding is this Sunday and the gowns have been damaged by a couple of muddy dogs who somehow got inside and ran amok while they were out.
Do we do dry cleaning? No. But I can arrange it, and I can make any repairs needed by tomorrow, no problem.
There goes my weekend.
I was hoping to have some time off, maybe devote some energy to my own thing, but hey. It’s part of the job and it’s days like today that keep us on our toes.