Her Teddy Bear #2 Read Free Page A

balloons bobbed happily along the path, and it was a perfectly gorgeous autumn afternoon. Other couples and young families milled about, pointing at different townhouse units in the complex, and a little boy squealed about picking out his new bedroom.
    “This is a nice development,” I said, and Trevor beamed at the compliment.
    When we walked into the show suite, the staff jerked to attention, and it was all, “Good afternoon, Mr. MacIntyre, what can we do for you?”
    Two of the agents were guys, and the one female, a blonde, kept giggling every time Trevor talked to her. I felt my face tense up as my eyes narrowed at her. She had a too-tight blouse, straining across her breasts, tons of makeup, and those long, lacquered nails.
    Stay away from my man , I thought, then I felt embarrassed for being so territorial. Trevor and I had been dating for only a week. The rush of jealousy took me by surprise, by the ferocity and how quickly it had set in. Plus, I'd never felt jealous about my other boyfriends, I guess because most of them were secretly gay and other women had more sense than I did—better gaydar , if you will.
    Trevor was all man, and for now, he was all mine. Watching him talk to the blonde made me want to do more than slip my hand into his. I wanted to kiss him, to get my scent on him, to make him call my name as he came, orgasming deep inside me.
    I fanned my face, wondering if the show suite was hot from the halogen track lights, or if it was just me. Everybody else seemed comfortable. Just me.
    The door opened, and a bunch of people came in, with kids, and a dog, too. They all wanted to go look at specific suites, and Trevor told the three agents to go ahead, as he'd be taking photos in the show suite and would keep an eye out for visitors.
    They all went out the door, full of excitement and sales-speak. Trevor raised his eyebrows at me and said, “Alone at least.”
    I was examining a tiny model of the development, on a big table in the middle of the space, and he ran up behind me and jokingly ground his pelvis into the back of my butt, through my denim skirt.
    “You bad boy,” I said, but I spread my legs as wide as they'd go in the skirt and pressed my bum back into his growing bulge.
    Huskily, he said, “Wanna see the bedroom?” He grabbed my breasts over my shirt and plundered my body with those big, warm hands.
    I felt the stinging ache in my pussy instantly. He was teasing me, I knew it, but I was going to get him back.
    After he pulled away from me, he led me around the show suite, showing off the appliances and gleaming finishes in the kitchen. He had his camera out, and took some reference photos relating to the deficiencies. While he wasn't paying attention, I slipped behind a closet door and pulled off my panties, then stuffed them in my purse. I was wearing a denim skirt and cute sneakers, perfectly respectable-looking, and walking around without panties on felt liberating and exciting.
    Trevor led me up the stairs, talking about the craftsmanship of the wood railing. It was a lovely home—not as fancy as his actual house, but I could see some of the same attention to detail carried over. The place had his fancy computerized lighting system, available as an upgrade.
    The master bedroom looked a lot like Trevor's bedroom, except the four-poster bed was a Queen, not a King, like his. I commented on this, and he said, “Makes the room look bigger.” He winked. “One of the tricks of the trade.”
    “Oh, I'm in the theater business,” I said. “I know a thing or two about showmanship. For example ...”
    I glanced down at my hands as I inched my denim skirt up over my thighs.
    He licked his lips. I definitely had his attention. We were alone in the show suite—for now—so I lifted the skirt all the way, showing him my bare pussy.
    “Again, no panties!” he said.
    “Just wanted to give you a little preview before dinner tonight.”
    “Damn.” He got down on his hands and knees on the