Virgin Delivery Girl - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
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The next morning, ParcelHub buzzed to life as customers streamed in to collect their packages.
After a quick freshen-up, I planted myself at the computer to tackle some work—until Ethan Blanchet waltzed in with breakfast for me. My heart did a backflip. I swear I almost fainted from sheer delight.
But with the shop packed all morning, we couldn't so much as exchange a sly glance. Talk about cruel timing. Ethan seemed to get it, though. He just parked himself nearby, idly scrolling through his phone like a perfectly normal customer.
By late morning, the crowd finally thinned. Time to make my move.
I stretched my arms high, arching my back just enough to test the limits of my top—and, apparently, Ethan's self-control. His head snapped up, eyes glued to me. Normally, my curves were more hassle than asset, but today? Pure power.
I held the pose, savoring his attention—until the door chimed with another customer. Back to work.
After handing off the parcel, I realized Ethan had disappeared. Then I spotted him—crouched under my desk like a fugitive.
"What the hell?" I hissed.
He pressed a finger to his lips, wincing. A second later, my phone lit up:
That woman outside won't stop following me. Hiding so she doesn't see me.
I peeked past the counter. Sure enough, some flashy girl lurked near the entrance, scanning the room like a hawk.
Stay put, I texted back. I'll cover you.
I rolled my chair forward, boxing him in. Problem? Today's skirt—and my post-shower laziness—left me defenseless underneath. The realization sent a jolt through me, heat prickling under my skin.
The stalker eventually gave up, but our reprieve was short-lived. Of course our absentee landlady chose that exact moment to materialize.
Now Ethan was really trapped. If she caught a grown man crawling from under my desk, I'd need a miracle to explain it. I clenched my jaw, forcing small talk while my pulse hammered in my ears.
Ethan, meanwhile, stayed eerily calm beneath me—until mischief took over. I eased my knees apart, waiting for his reaction before snapping them shut. The thrill was addictive.
After a few rounds, he cracked. A beam of light flared—his phone's flashlight, inching toward my bare thighs.
I nearly yelped. The landlady, oblivious, prattled on behind me. Panicked she'd spot him, I clamped my legs tight. A muffled "Oof!" rose from below.
Oops.
The first squeeze was an accident. The rest? Absolutely intentional.
Ethan wasn't about to take it lying down. As the landlady droned on, his tongue traced my calf, then crept higher—
"Vivian? Vivian!"
I jerked upright. "Huh?"
"You're not listening," she huffed. "Do you agree or not?"
"I, uh—"
Ethan chose that moment to flick the light back on, lifting my skirt—
"Yes!" I blurted, thighs locking like a vise.
By some miracle, the landlady excused herself to the restroom. I hauled Ethan out, seething. "Quiet."
After a quick freshen-up, I planted myself at the computer to tackle some work—until Ethan Blanchet waltzed in with breakfast for me. My heart did a backflip. I swear I almost fainted from sheer delight.
But with the shop packed all morning, we couldn't so much as exchange a sly glance. Talk about cruel timing. Ethan seemed to get it, though. He just parked himself nearby, idly scrolling through his phone like a perfectly normal customer.
By late morning, the crowd finally thinned. Time to make my move.
I stretched my arms high, arching my back just enough to test the limits of my top—and, apparently, Ethan's self-control. His head snapped up, eyes glued to me. Normally, my curves were more hassle than asset, but today? Pure power.
I held the pose, savoring his attention—until the door chimed with another customer. Back to work.
After handing off the parcel, I realized Ethan had disappeared. Then I spotted him—crouched under my desk like a fugitive.
"What the hell?" I hissed.
He pressed a finger to his lips, wincing. A second later, my phone lit up:
That woman outside won't stop following me. Hiding so she doesn't see me.
I peeked past the counter. Sure enough, some flashy girl lurked near the entrance, scanning the room like a hawk.
Stay put, I texted back. I'll cover you.
I rolled my chair forward, boxing him in. Problem? Today's skirt—and my post-shower laziness—left me defenseless underneath. The realization sent a jolt through me, heat prickling under my skin.
The stalker eventually gave up, but our reprieve was short-lived. Of course our absentee landlady chose that exact moment to materialize.
Now Ethan was really trapped. If she caught a grown man crawling from under my desk, I'd need a miracle to explain it. I clenched my jaw, forcing small talk while my pulse hammered in my ears.
Ethan, meanwhile, stayed eerily calm beneath me—until mischief took over. I eased my knees apart, waiting for his reaction before snapping them shut. The thrill was addictive.
After a few rounds, he cracked. A beam of light flared—his phone's flashlight, inching toward my bare thighs.
I nearly yelped. The landlady, oblivious, prattled on behind me. Panicked she'd spot him, I clamped my legs tight. A muffled "Oof!" rose from below.
Oops.
The first squeeze was an accident. The rest? Absolutely intentional.
Ethan wasn't about to take it lying down. As the landlady droned on, his tongue traced my calf, then crept higher—
"Vivian? Vivian!"
I jerked upright. "Huh?"
"You're not listening," she huffed. "Do you agree or not?"
"I, uh—"
Ethan chose that moment to flick the light back on, lifting my skirt—
"Yes!" I blurted, thighs locking like a vise.
By some miracle, the landlady excused herself to the restroom. I hauled Ethan out, seething. "Quiet."
End of Virgin Delivery Girl Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to Virgin Delivery Girl book page.