Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I was joking and she knew it. Her giggle was divine.
“Smells really good,” she said, and I gave her my thanks.
She came on through to the kitchen and I asked for her coat to hang up. Sure enough she was dressed up for round two in her glorious Arlock Academy uniform and my dick leapt to a fresh new tier of want.
“Gorgeous,” I told her. “Just as well we’re having dinner first, or I might have to slam that tight little asshole of yours from now right through until morning.”
Her blush was its usual perfect sweetness. “Yes, please,” she said. “I hope it’s going to be quite a night.” She bit her lip with the next giggle. “Glad you like the outfit.”
“I’ll always like the outfit,” I told her and held up a wine bottle in offering. “Believe me, I’ll never grow tired of you in school uniform.”
She gave a yes, please to the wine and looked strangely curious as I poured her a glass and handed it over.
“What is it?” I asked. “You look like you’re trying to work out the meaning of life.”
I adored the way she so often paused for a dithering second before coming out with her answer.
“It’s just…” she started, and took a sip of wine. “It’s just I was wondering… what it is that makes a schoolgirl uniform such a hot thing for you? I mean I guess it’s the girl thing, but is that really what it is? Because you didn’t look at me like that when I was actually in a school uniform…”
I checked the oven for the status of our meal before answering.
“You’re wondering why I get a hard on when a girl is in a school uniform?”
She laughed and gave me a nod. “Yeah. Unless you don’t know. I don’t know why I like you fucking my ass, I guess. I just do.”
But I did know. I knew absolutely why I got a hard on when a girl was in a school uniform.
I took the pasta and garlic bread out of the oven and gestured her on through to the dining room with a smirk. It was all laid out and waiting. Candles burning, and places set and everything just so for my princess and her first little foray into the us she wanted.
“Wow,” she said, and meant it.
Her eyes were sparkling a deeper blue as she turned to face me near the candlelight.
I put the dishes in the centre of the table, and pulled out her chair for her. She dropped into the seat with such a dainty motion, and I enjoyed a breath of her perfume. Light and floral. Sweet. Always so sweet.
I cleared my throat and grabbed my own glass of wine before joining her.
And then I spoke.
I spoke about something I’d never spoken about, in fact. Something I’d never once felt drawn to discuss.
“My interest in school uniforms has a very definite origin,” I started and offered her the serving spoon to take her pasta.
“It does?” she quizzed, and she was eager for it. Truly eager for my words.
It was in her excited little breaths, hitching just right. In the way her eyes struggled hard not to burn on mine, but failed miserably.
“Yes,” I told her. “It does.”
I waited for her to finish dishing up her meal and took my own before I continued.
“When I was a boy at school. At the same school you attended actually,” I gestured at her outfit. “I was lucky enough to have the same academy school badge on my blazer.”
“You went to Arlock Academy?” she asked, and I nodded.
“Yes, I went to the academy. At the same time your father did.”
She tore a piece of garlic bread and took a bite, covering her mouth with her hand as she spoke. “You went to school with Dad?”
I nodded. “He was in an older school year, but yes, I did. We’ve been friends a long, long time. Long before we worked together.”
The thought was enough to bash me with another wave of guilt at the betrayal of such a longstanding friend of mine, but now wasn’t the time to be dwelling on it.
“I think I kinda knew that,” she said. “I think I’ve heard that before, I’ve just never really heard it to know for sure.”
The girl was so glorious in her innocence. Her language, her smile, her everything. Not just the baby girl uniform.
“There was a very noticeable girl in our school,” I shared. “Her name was Catherine Whitehurst. She was smart and beautiful. A blonde siren with this absolutely stunning cascade of hair down her back.” I met her stare. “Gorgeous blue eyes, so striking. Like another special little lady I know.”
She blushed and smiled, then tore another strip of bread. “I’m a bit like Catherine, am I?”
I laughed a little. “You are both exceptional creatures who have managed to captivate me at very different points of my life.”