Shadowboxer (Tapped Out 1) - Page 107

God, what was I supposed to buy? What would he like?

I whipped out my phone and texted my sister.

Help. Need slutty underwear. Which one?

I took a couple pictures of the stuff that surrounded me and sent them, then began gnawing off my thumbnail. Luckily she didn’t make me wait long.

Yellow teddy with garters. Extra padding up top. You go girl!

The last part made me grin, the rest didn’t. Which yellow teddy? And yeah, extra padding was a no-brainer. If they sold one with a hand-pump, I’d be all over it

I sorted through the rack of teddies and selected a yellow one near the front that might’ve caught her eye. It was a nice choice for my hair color. I was about to look for my size when I saw the price tag.

Holy fucknuts, I was not paying that.

Trying not to panic, I glanced around. Did they have a clearance rack in this joint? No way was I dropping hundreds of dollars on a couple strings I’d only wear for a few minutes.

The memory burst into my mind with the suddenness of a camera flash.

“Go ahead, look around.” He gestured, the too sweet smell of cherry cigar smoke turning my stomach. “Anything you want, it’s yours. Price is no object.” Then hands on my breasts, squeezing. Shifting so no else could see while he fondled me, right in plain sight. “So small and pretty. I can’t wait to see them in lace. Get the yellow. It’s a good color for you.”

“Ma’am? Are you all right?”

I looked up at the same perky salesgirl, shocked to realize I was on my knees. Glancing down, I saw the fabric knotted in my fists. I’d pulled something from the rack in front of me. Animal print panties or something. I didn’t care what it was, I just needed to leave. To make her stop staring at me li

ke I was crazy.

“Yes. I’m fine.” I wasn’t gasping. Not really. “I just tripped on the rug. I’ll take this.” I shoved the animal print whatever at her and stumbled to my feet, swallowing the rise of nausea. “Please, just ring me out now.”

“Of course. Will this be cash or charge?”

My mind wheeled. All I had was my share of the day’s tips, which hadn’t been that great. I might have enough to pay for whatever I’d chosen, but maybe not. I didn’t have a charge card. My breath backed up in my throat as she started to ring me up and I glanced around, my gaze landing gratefully on a sign advertising the store card.

“Can I get a card here?” All of a sudden it felt vitally important to me to walk out of there with lingerie I’d purchased on my own. Even if I didn’t like it. Even if it didn’t fit.

That bastard wasn’t taking anything else from me.

“Sure. Fill out this form.” She pushed a clipboard at me.

Ten minutes later, I walked out with a tiny little red and white bag in one hand and my new temporary charge card tucked in my wallet. I now had a bill that would be sent to an address I might not live at in a month. And I was late for the gym.

Kizzy was waiting for me outside the locker room. She didn’t look pleased. Her cheeks had reddened to the tomato color of her T-shirt, which said if I wanted shit, I would’ve squeezed your head.

I was pretty sure Kizzy didn’t own any lemon yellow teddies—or animal print anything, for that matter. She was more likely to push down her pants and fuck against the nearest door. As she’d told me way too many times.

“Where the hell have you been?”

She glanced down at my Taylor’s bag and back up to my already warming cheeks. Now we were both flushed.

“Are you frigging serious? You’re late for training because you’re off buying little lacy things for Foxy?” She snatched the bag and rooted through it before I could say a word, tugging out the contents with a look of disgust that might’ve been amusing had I not just paid thirty-five dollars for what she held. “Oh my God. He’s a total freak.”

She stretched out my brand new bikini panties between her thumbs. Not only were they animal print, they had the word juicy emblazoned on the ass in hot pink. The front was just a panel of see-through black lace.

“Oh my God.” I threw down my backpack and clutched my stomach. “I can’t even.”

“Since when do you wear size eight?”

“I’ve gained some weight,” I muttered, earning a snort.

Tags: Cari Quinn Tapped Out Romance
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