AllFreeNovel
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I’m all for him requesting what I wear. I’m all for him being completely specific. If he’s going to fuck me within an hour.
This, however, crosses a line for me. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m, in his words, his bitch. And that doesn’t give him the right to shove two fifty-dollar bills in my back pocket and demand I buy blue lingerie.
You know what? I think I feel like white underwear today.
I’m sore.
The skin above my vagina feels like it’s been massaged with sandpaper. And don’t even get me started on the skin by my butt. Goddamn stupid waxes.
I’d give it up if it didn’t make it nice down there.
I open the Victoria’s Secret bag lying on my bed and pull out the white bra, thong, and suspender belt set. A smile, not quite nice and not quite bitchy, stretches across my face. I strip off my clothes and shimmy into the set, adding the white stockings I wore for the shoot with Dayton.
He already said that he hates white. He’s about to see me in head-to-toe white.
I stand in front of my mirror and snap a picture. Adding it to a text message, I type, Lingerie shopping was a success.
I drop my phone facedown and change again, this time into sweatpants and a tank top. The heating is on high in the apartment, so despite the rain and cold winds currently battering my windows, I can pretend I’m in the Bahamas if I close my eyes and try hard enough.
White? is Tyler’s response.
I assumed I was spending your money on blue. Since I didn’t spend your money, I got white.
Why didn’t you spend my money?
Because we weren’t in bed.
What difference does that make?
Last I knew, your control doesn’t stretch to outside Bria’s Bridal Boutique in downtown Seattle. Prick.
My phone is quiet after that. I get Angus some food and a scratch on the head—to which I’m rewarded with a rumbly purr—and make myself a mug of hot chocolate. With marshmallows and cream, because I’m in that kind of annoyed mood.
I settle on the couch with my mug and switch The Big Bang Theory on. When it’s raining outside and men are being assholes, you just need a bit of Sheldon in your life. If only to remind you that even geeks can be a bit of a dick now and then.
When the episode finishes, I decide that I’m not quite geeked out and put the DVD box set on. I’m on episode four, with Angus lying on my stomach, asleep, when my buzzer goes. I have half a mind to ignore it, but I don’t.
I deposit my now-grumpy cat onto the sofa and pick up the phone. “Uh, hello?”
“Delivery for Miss Olivia Warren?”
I’m not waiting for anything… “Come on up.” I let the guy in and wait by the door.
He steps out of the elevator, and the logo on his sweater is of a local private courier company. I frown, sign for the package, and walk back into the apartment. I set it on my kitchen table and study it. The box is plain aside from my name scrawled on it.
Tentatively, I open it and push the tissue paper aside. And I stare right at a fucking blue lingerie set.
Close your eyes, Liv. Deep breaths. Deep brea—
Fuck this shit. I shove my feet in my Uggs and tie my hair in a knot on top of my head, barely stopping to grab a zipped sweater before swiping my car keys and flying down the stairs. That assuming bastard. That annoying, assuming, forceful bastard.
I call Dayton and switch it to hands-free, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Miss me already?”
“Fuck off. Do you know where Tyler is?”
“Already? Really, Liv.”
