Shoving the chair back and springing to my feet, I threw the napkin onto the table. ‘You are not going to do this to me, sir,’ I snapped, glaring at him with all of the misplaced, righteous fury I possessed. ‘Do what, private?’ He looked amused. That made me angrier. I considered throwing something at him. ‘I will not like you, you can’t make me do it.’ I bared my teeth at him. ‘Sir.’ ‘That has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Why the hell not?’ ‘You are a major. I am a PFC,’ I explained to him as if he were not only two, but mentally challenged to boot. ‘Sir.’ ‘In this place rank means nothing. Here, I am the man and you are the woman and that’s all there is to it. Do you understand me, private?’ ‘We aren’t always going to be here.’ My glare deepened. ‘Sir.’ ‘You already like me, Wright. Sit down and eat your dessert. You have no idea how hard it was to pick the damned thing out.’ He picked up his own fork and eyed me over it. I hated it when he was right. I sank into my. I have a hint of cleavage thanks to the wonders of underwire, but I am definitely in the category of "just a handful." I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. I am a stark contrast to Tiffany; my eyes shimmering in a variety of blues like the ocean and my hair is shimmering blonde. I am grateful that despite the fact that my breasts are lacking in size, I make up for it in other ways. I have always been a fan of how amazing my ass looks in blue jeans and for that reason, I wear them often. Tonight was no exception. Feeling nervous, I glance across the room. I notice Derek standing beside Tiffany. He is handsome in a rugged way. He has a tall, muscular frame and strong arms; I can see why she is infatuated with him. His brown hair has the strategically tousled look and his baby blues twinkle with mischief. They are whispering about something and eyeing me expectantly. A sly grin plays across his face and I hear him say, "Do it." She smiles victoriously making my heart race. She.
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