“Hi,” came a breathy voice as an arm extended awkwardly around the door. “Can you just hand it to me?”
“Sure,” I said, my senses on alert. If I wasn’t mistaken, the girl’s awkward attempts to hide herself were because she was naked. I could see that the arm was attached to a bare shoulder, and the way she cowered behind the wood slab was pretty telling body language in and of itself.
“But ma’am,” I said wryly. “I’m gonna need your signature.”
And the girl sighed, a gusty breath from behind the door.
“Can you just forge my signature for me?” she said, exasperated. “Please?”
I shook my head, almost laughing. Honestly, if she’d said, “Could you sign for me?” or “Please draw an X on my behalf,” I would have been happy to. Sometimes people aren’t in a position where they can sign because of epilepsy or some medical disorder and I’ve signed for other folks more than once. But the way Ms. Holmes had phrased it, “Can you forge my signature?” basically made it impossible. Nah, I didn’t want to go to jail and besides, I was curious.
So I shook my head, getting my electronic pad out.
“Sorry ma’am,” I growled. “No can do.”
And there was some shuffling from behind the door as well as another gusty sigh, an exhale of Titanic proportions.
“Okay okay, I’ll do it then,” came the voice and the girl appeared this time … butt naked except for a pair of jeans wrapped around her middle. My mouth dropped open because she was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. Curvy with huge boobs, a fat ass and wide, swinging hips, the denim did nothing to hide her generous proportions, she was Venus de Milo come to life. My cock punched out immediately, my staff rock hard at the miles of creamy flesh before me, barely covered, side boob, under boob, top boob, all on display coupled with a tiny bit of pussy hair right where the denim stopped, the material unable to hide much.
“Sorry,” she muttered, looking down, trying to shake her hair forward to hide her face while biting her lip. “I just moved and can’t find anything,” she gestured to a mountain of boxes in back of her. But that movement caused everything to go awry. The jeans slipped despite the girl’s effort to keep them clutched under her armpits, falling to the ground in a crumpled pile and suddenly she was slickly nude before me, everything showing, cunt, tits, ass, miles of creamy flesh trembling and jiggling.
And I did what any red-blooded man would have done if his girl was naked in public. I stepped into the apartment, slamming the door behind me, protecting her from the eyes of inquisitive neighbors or anyone else who might stumble by. Because she was mine. This little brunette with the pink nips and beautifully flushed pussy was mine, all mine.
CHAPTER FOUR
Laurie
Holy shit, the delivery man was fucking hot. I’d been shivering on my couch, the effects of the hot shower dissipating, cold, wet as a mouse, with nothing to cover me but these blasted jeans and the flannel shirt. They were basically useless because the shirt was soaked through already and the jeans? Damp denim is no fun when you’re wet and cold.
So when a knock sounded on the door, I’d leapt up. My robe and soaps were here! Yippee-yi-yay! I grabbed the jeans to me as best I could and ran over to the door, sneaking a peek through the peephole. And gasping, I’d stepped back for a minute. Because the man outside had an amazing body, tall and athletic dressed in a grey jacket and nondescript shorts. Broad shoulders filled my vision, a muscled chest that narrowed to a trim waist, and thick, strong thighs, perfect for going up and down stairs. I couldn’t see much of his face because it was covered by a baseball cap, but I could see the razor-sharp edge of his jaw, square and dominating.
And when I’d opened the door, my first impression hadn’t been wrong. The delivery man’s eyes lifted and they were the clearest blue, penetrating, intense, making my pulse flutter immediately.
“Hi,” I gasped, cowering behind the door, shivering from the cold … or was it his closeness? I cursed myself. This guy was a total stranger, here to do his job, nothing more, and here I was creaming and trembling from just the sight of him.
But his voice augmented the shivers in my spine, making me weak, my knees almost giving out at the sexy rumble.
“Delivery for Ms. Holmes?” he asked, an eyebrow quirking, blue eyes amused, almost like he could see through the door. I cursed myself. What was wrong with me? Unless he was Superman with x-ray vision, he couldn’t see through solid wood.
And I embarrassed myself, grabbing at the package with my free hand while trying to keep myself covered, holding my head down, too humiliated to meet his eyes. But that was nothing because when it came time to sign for the delivery, I completely fucked up. I was forced to step out from behind the door and somehow bungled it all, I’m so clumsy and inept.