A couple days ago I was worrying about not having a summer job so I could buy books and gas money. If I could afford designer clothes I wouldn’t have a Charlie’s Chicken application on my desk back home. “Are you insane? I can’t afford to buy new clothes, especially here, where they probably double the prices.”
He laughs. “Probably triple, at least. But, babe. You can afford it.”
I’m sick of his babe shtick, but I let it go because it’s by far not my biggest problem. “Afford it? Did I win the lottery or something?”
He tilts his head and looks at me like I’m an idiot. “No, but your mom did.”
“Okay, for starters, no matter what it says on the ticket, I’m not my mom. And also? They’re not even married yet.”
“Close enough. I’ll cover it, and if you feel really guilty, I do accept sexual favors in currency. Come on.”
I follow him back to the bedroom, sputtering in indignation. Facing his suitcase and away from me, he drops his pants, letting them fall to his ankles before he steps out of them. My mouth dries up and my arguments fade. Oh my God, that ass. Tight and dimpled, it’s made for grabbing. The curved end of a tattoo twines down over the right side, and I feel jealous of the needle that got to do it.
He turns his head and catches me watching. “If you’re gonna stare at me like that, I’m going to add it to your tab. I really should get something in return for all this generosity.” The smirk is back. He’s a cocky asshole. I just wish he wasn’t such a good-looking cocky asshole. “You’ll get this one for free,” he quips over his shoulder, “But I’m not going to stand for it for long. Consider yourself warned, babe.” Then he pulls on underwear and pants, and the show’s over.
He must by wearing me down, because instead of getting angry, I actually laugh. It’s possible that there actually is a nice guy under that horn dog act. So just to play with him, I drop my wrap, grab clean clothes and stroll into the bathroom to change. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me anyway, right?
When I come back out, he makes a show of looking me up and down before he opens the door and gestures gallantly. “After you, my lovely fiancée.” I roll my eyes and step past him. At least it wasn’t babe.
Chapter 12: Gavin
“Holy crap, Gavin. We can’t buy this!” Angie looks at me with those big doe eyes. “Can we?”
Shopping with Angie has been an experience. This is the first girl I’ve been with who I had to drag away from the clearance racks and force to look at the good stuff. Right now, she’s wearing one sexy as hell red Roberto Cavalli dress that hangs off one shoulder and makes her look like a fucking movie star. Standing in front of one of the full length mirrors, she’s lifting the light-as-feather fabric and twisting back and forth like Cinderella, watching herself as if she can’t quite believe it’s true.
The dress costs so much that ruining it by fucking her in it sounds blasphemous, but right now that’s exactly what I want to do. Chase the store clerks out and fuck her silly right over that counter.
I try not to say that part out loud. “Stop worrying, babe. Every eye’s gonna be on you tonight. You look good enough to fuck.” Oh well, I tried.
Angie looks at me in shock, her face darkening with embarrassment. The clerks are professional enough to let it pass with just brief raising of their brows, but I’m sure they’ll be gossiping about it afterwards. I don’t give a fuck. She does look that good.
“Gavin!” She’s trying to look mad, but I can tell she’s pleased. At least the part of her that isn’t dying of embarrassment.
I should leave her alone, but she’s cute when she’s flustered. I step up close behind her and put my hands on her hips. “I just love you so much, babe. Just imagine, once we’re married we can do it every day.” That I said loud enough for the sales people to hear, but then I lean in, my mouth right by her ear and whisper, “I’m ready to start tonight, and I have a very, very active imagination.”
“Gavin!” Her voice just went up an octave. Even the clerks are having a hard time pretending disinterest. Fuck, she’s so fun to tease.
Show’s over. Any more of this and I will be fucking her in the shop. “We’ll take it. Just pack it up and deliver it to our room, please.” I address the clerks, who nod eagerly, commissions ringing up in their eyes.
“Excellent choice, Sir.”
I turn to Angie. “Want me to come into the changing room with you and help you get off? Get it off, I mean. You know, the dress.”