I’ve been at parties where the price of admission for girls is to take their tops off, at the very least. But Ava’s always so covered up and buttoned down that even this little flash of something more is enough to get me going. It reminds me — as if I needed reminding — that there’s so much of her I haven’t seen. It reminds me a bit of Christmas when I was a kid, when I’d unwrap my presents — or, more usually, present, singular — slowly, so as to make the moment last as long as possible.
Ava’s like that too. She’s a present, just waiting for me to unwrap her.
Once she’s inside, she scoots herself way over the other side of the leather seat, sitting with her legs drawn up, leaning against the window. She doesn’t look at me as I climb in. She just ignores me altogether, apparently trying to squash herself up as far away from me as possible.
I sneer. She might be acting like I’m not good enough to sit in her car or be in her house, but I saw the way her eyes lingered on my crotch back there. She wants me. Which is no surprise — I’m Riley Knox, after all — but for some reason, she’s still denying it. Maybe even to herself.
Well, she can crunch herself up into a little ball, but I’m not going to do that. As the driver closes the door behind me, I spread my legs so that our knees are almost touching, and rest my elbows on the back of the seat, letting my hands hang down.
“This is nice,” I say, looking around the interior of the car. “Is this how you came to school every day, or did you just have your servants carry you?”
She glances at me, annoyed. “No, I didn’t,” she says. “After I got my license I drove myself.”
I nod, grinning. “What was your first car? No, wait, let me guess.” I look her up and down, as if I’m making a judgment. “Not a Ferrari, that’s way too flashy. A Merc? An Audi? That’s about right for you. Something a soccer mom would drive.”
“A Chrysler,” she says crisply. “My dad believes in buying American.”
“Well, good on him,” I say. “That’s very admirable.”
We sit in silence a moment before the car starts up, and we start down the stupidly long driveway toward the main gates. I’ve never been driven anywhere before except on a bus or when I was a kid, and the temptation is to just look out the window and enjoy the ride. But this is the first time I’ve been in close quarters with Ava, and with the limo’s privacy screen up, I’m feeling bold.
“Don’t we have to pick a place to eat?” I ask. “Give me the iPad.”
Ava sighs a little and digs it out of her purse. I don’t really care about picking a place for our so-called date — this is all just a pretext to get her closer to me of her own free will. Then we can start having some fun.
She hands me the iPad, and I swipe it. The first place that comes up in the browser is some insanely expensive-looking place with vaulted ceilings and candles on all the tables, and about fifty knives and forks at every seat.
“We’re not going here,” I mutter, closing the tab. “That’s insane. As if I’d ever go anywhere like that.”
Ava leans over a little, looking down at the screen. I can see the tops of her breasts as she leans down, the curve of her collarbone just visible above her light sweater. Again, the fact I can see so little of her excites me even more than if she’d just ripped her top off right now. And I have no idea why that is.
“This place is nice,” she says, apparently unaware of the fact I’m staring at her tits.
She points to the screen, and I see a place that’s basically a carbon copy of the one I just rejected.
“Nope,” I say, closing it. “No way.”
“Why not?” She sounds a little angry. “We have to choose somewhere , so we may as well go somewhere good.”
I laugh. “No way I’m being seen in a place like that,” I tell her. “Anyway, everyone knows I’m on a scholarship and I’m poor as shit. They’d all know
Ava’s like that too. She’s a present, just waiting for me to unwrap her.
Once she’s inside, she scoots herself way over the other side of the leather seat, sitting with her legs drawn up, leaning against the window. She doesn’t look at me as I climb in. She just ignores me altogether, apparently trying to squash herself up as far away from me as possible.
I sneer. She might be acting like I’m not good enough to sit in her car or be in her house, but I saw the way her eyes lingered on my crotch back there. She wants me. Which is no surprise — I’m Riley Knox, after all — but for some reason, she’s still denying it. Maybe even to herself.
Well, she can crunch herself up into a little ball, but I’m not going to do that. As the driver closes the door behind me, I spread my legs so that our knees are almost touching, and rest my elbows on the back of the seat, letting my hands hang down.
“This is nice,” I say, looking around the interior of the car. “Is this how you came to school every day, or did you just have your servants carry you?”
She glances at me, annoyed. “No, I didn’t,” she says. “After I got my license I drove myself.”
I nod, grinning. “What was your first car? No, wait, let me guess.” I look her up and down, as if I’m making a judgment. “Not a Ferrari, that’s way too flashy. A Merc? An Audi? That’s about right for you. Something a soccer mom would drive.”
“A Chrysler,” she says crisply. “My dad believes in buying American.”
“Well, good on him,” I say. “That’s very admirable.”
We sit in silence a moment before the car starts up, and we start down the stupidly long driveway toward the main gates. I’ve never been driven anywhere before except on a bus or when I was a kid, and the temptation is to just look out the window and enjoy the ride. But this is the first time I’ve been in close quarters with Ava, and with the limo’s privacy screen up, I’m feeling bold.
“Don’t we have to pick a place to eat?” I ask. “Give me the iPad.”
Ava sighs a little and digs it out of her purse. I don’t really care about picking a place for our so-called date — this is all just a pretext to get her closer to me of her own free will. Then we can start having some fun.
She hands me the iPad, and I swipe it. The first place that comes up in the browser is some insanely expensive-looking place with vaulted ceilings and candles on all the tables, and about fifty knives and forks at every seat.
“We’re not going here,” I mutter, closing the tab. “That’s insane. As if I’d ever go anywhere like that.”
Ava leans over a little, looking down at the screen. I can see the tops of her breasts as she leans down, the curve of her collarbone just visible above her light sweater. Again, the fact I can see so little of her excites me even more than if she’d just ripped her top off right now. And I have no idea why that is.
“This place is nice,” she says, apparently unaware of the fact I’m staring at her tits.
She points to the screen, and I see a place that’s basically a carbon copy of the one I just rejected.
“Nope,” I say, closing it. “No way.”
“Why not?” She sounds a little angry. “We have to choose somewhere , so we may as well go somewhere good.”
I laugh. “No way I’m being seen in a place like that,” I tell her. “Anyway, everyone knows I’m on a scholarship and I’m poor as shit. They’d all know
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