Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
I didn’t owe her shit. I was about to drop two grand, so she could suck my cock for a month and we still wouldn’t be square. Although, she hadn’t asked for the clothes. She hadn’t really asked for anything.
We got the last of the clothes together and I added to the pile Daphne was scanning at the register. I tossed down the two price tags from the bra and underwear on the counter. “She’s wearing them,” I announced.
And they’re drenched with my cum, I wanted to add, but Daphne didn’t strike me as the type who’d appreciate the detail. I’d thought about flirting with her for a half-second to see what kind of response Oksana had, but decided it was a bad idea. The saleswoman seemed too professional.
The Russian girl said she had no emotions, other than fear and anger. What about jealousy? Seemed to be the only emotion I felt these days.
I swiped my credit card and signed the electronic tablet, and glanced at Oksana while Daphne finished bagging everything up. My ‘girlfriend’ stared at the counter, looking shell-shocked. Or maybe she was just starving and tired. It was after two o’clock, and I had no idea if she’d acclimated to the time-change.
“Can you hang onto those for us while we grab lunch?” I asked Daphne, although I didn’t use a questioning tone. With the money I’d just spent, anything other than a ‘yes, sir’ would be unacceptable.
“Absolutely. I’ll put your bags in my manager’s office. If I’m not available, just let anyone know and we’ll get them for you right away.”
“Great, thanks.” I turned on my heel and headed for the escalator. Without a word, Oksana followed. She was so obedient, it was unreal. I didn’t ask her where she wanted to eat lunch, or if she even wanted food. I was hungry, so we’d eat.
I thought this was awesome. There was no guesswork involved, and all decisions were mine. If I wanted to drag her ass into the disgusting Hooters at the other end of the mall, I could, and I bet she wouldn’t say a goddamn word.
Instead I chose a burger joint nearby, where the walls dripped with obnoxious fifties diner décor, and when we were tucked into a booth, she stared at the menu like it was written in a foreign language. Oh, shit. Maybe it was for her. I’d left that note for her this morning, but she might not have been able to read it.
“Can you read English?”
Her blue eyes snapped to mine. “Yes. There are . . . a lot of options.”
“Yeah, welcome to America. That’s how we do it here.” I set my phone down on the table so I’d see any notifications if they rolled through. “Get the Bacon Bleu Burger. It’s good.”
My casual comment hung awkwardly.
Okay. I hadn’t thought this through. Sitting casually across from her at the restaurant felt suddenly like a date, and the odd look on her face made me wonder if she had the same thought. I needed to establish my dominance since we were in a new environment.
I dropped my menu and leaned over the table, keeping my voice quiet. “Tell me. Are those cum-soaked panties sticking to your pussy right now?”
Oksana blinked slowly. “Yes,” she said, her tone plain. Maybe she’d been telling the truth about not feeling shame. The idea of it excited me.
After I’d ordered our lunch and the server disappeared in the back, I narrowed my gaze on Oksana’s shoulders. She was stiff. Was her perfect posture from years of playing piano, or her unease around me? We needed to fill the silence with conversation because there was a kid a few tables over who was banging his fork on the tabletop, and if he didn’t stop soon I was going to rip it out of his hands and stab his mother in the eye with it. “How long have you been playing piano?”
The question caught her off guard. “Since I was eight.”
The tap-tap-tap of the fork grew louder. “And writing songs? When did you start doing that?”
“A few years ago.”
I gnashed my teeth. Couldn’t she help me out and give me an answer longer than four fucking words?
She drew in a hesitant breath. More was coming, but she wasn’t sure if she should reveal it. “I studied to be a composer.”
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. “Like, Beethoven and shit?”
“Yeah.”
Fuck me, the kid discovered the sound his fork made against his mother’s water glass and began to beat the shit out of it. Beneath the table, I balled my hands into fists. “Tell me about the song last night.”
Oksana could not only feel fear, she could experience panic. I already knew this, but I watched her eyes grow wide and color drain from her face. “I’d rather not.”