Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Oh, this would look great on you,” Sasha, the store associate that greeted us and picked the array of dresses for Joey, says, handing me a bright red shirt. She flutters her eyelashes and gives me a come-hither smile. I know what that smile means. With the simple crook of my finger, I could have her dropping her panties in the dressing room without complaint. However, I don’t want Sasha. Sure, she’s a looker, but she’s not Joey, and Josephine Henderson is the only woman I currently have the headspace for.
“My girl is wearing a deep blue,” I say, picking up a shirt that is almost the exact color of the dress Joey chose. Well, that I chose, and she confirmed. Her eyes go wide, and I know it’s the “my girl” reference. She knows who I am, and my guess is she also knows I’m unattached. However, I like the way it feels when I call Joey my girl. Like a warm caress on a cool fall night. I like it a whole hell of a lot.
“Oh.” Sasha’s face is crestfallen, and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. She saw me come in with Joey, and I know damn good and well that she saw me hanging out at the dressing rooms with her too.
“Excuse me,” I say, turning on my heel and walking away from her. My steps are leisurely as I take the long way back to the dressing rooms. My cock is calmer, but I still need a minute. I’ve never had a woman affect me the way that Joey does. The more time I’m around her, the more I crave her.
As I turn the corner to head back to where I know she’ll be waiting, I pass the jewelry counter. A pair of diamond stud earrings stick out to me, and I find myself pausing to take another look. I’m already imagining Joey wearing them tonight in that killer dress.
“Can I help you with something?” an older gentleman asks.
“I’ll take those.” I point to the earrings.
He nods. “They’re on sale today,” he informs me.
“Even better. Can I pay for this here as well?” I ask him, holding up the shirt that I chose to match her dress. That will make us look even more like a couple, and I find my mood brightening even further.
“Of course, sir.” He doesn’t waste time with small talk as he rings up my purchases. I don’t even blink when he tells me the total. All I can think about is seeing the earrings on her. I wonder if I can convince her to wear them tonight? It will go a long way in calming my nerves, knowing that something I chose for her and a gift that I’ve given her is what she’s wearing when all those other tools are looking at her.
I’ll have to think of a way to give them to her. If I just hand them to her, the chances of her accepting them are slim to none. She might be Richard Henderson’s daughter, but she’s not one for handouts. She’s not some prima donna, and that draws me to her even more.
“Thank you, Marvel,” I say, reading his name tag.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Williams.” He winks, causing me to laugh. It looks like he recognizes me. I would have never known, with his professionalism of our transaction.
“Do you have a pen and paper?” I ask. I need to get back to Joey, but this won’t take long.
“Yes, of course.” Marvel reaches into a drawer and hands me a small pad of paper and a pen. I scrawl his name across the paper, thanking him for all his help, and sign my name and my number eighty underneath. I hand him back the paper, and his beaming smile makes the few extra minutes worth it.
“Have a good day, Marvel,” I say, turning to leave. His ‘thank you’ follows me as I eat up the distance between me and the dressing rooms. Between Joey and me.
“Can I have one of those?” a breathless feminine voice asks from behind me.
I pause and look over my shoulder to find Sasha. “Sorry, my girl’s waiting.” I see the anger in her eyes, and I hate to piss off a fan, but I can’t seem to help it where she’s concerned. The shop assistant has pushed me to the limit on my bullshit meter. She mumbles something under her breath that I can’t quite understand, and I don’t even bother to find out.
I reach the dressing rooms to find Joey still in that rocking dress, this time with her hair twisted up and two different shoes on her feet. A silver heel on the left and a black heel on the right.
“Which one?” she asks as I approach her.