you were paying.”
“So?” she demands, her voice rising. “What’s wrong with that?”
I’d only brought up my scholarship and shitty family background to get a rise out of her — if she thinks it’s such a problem, then I’ll rub it in her face. I might be poor, but I still go to Blaketon just the same as her and her snobby friends, only I got here on pure, raw talent.
“Are you joking?” I ask. “I’m not having everyone think I’m your kept man. That’s ridiculous. I’m not having people say that.”
Ava looks up at me, her lip curling a little. “I hate to break it to you, but it’s 2016,” she says. “The women’s liberation movement happened. We can even get jobs and pay for dates now. It’s not a big deal.”
“Well, it’s a big deal to me. We’re not going there.” I close the tab, and use my thumb to scroll through the rest of Murray’s chosen restaurants. “No. No. No. I’d never take a girl to any of these places, and everyone knows it. Wasn’t the point of this that it has to look real?”
Ava sighs. She’s leaning in so close to me now that I can feel the puff of hot breath against my neck. “All right then, where do you usually take girls on dates?”
I grin, knowing it makes me look cocky as hell, and knowing that girls love it. “I don't. We usually just head straight to the nearest bed. Why not just cut right to the chase? It’s what they want, it’s what I want. Why waste our time?”
“So you’ve never been on a date,” Ava says flatly. “It’s all just fucking from the moment you lay eyes on each other.”
I shrug. “We might go out for pizza and beer. But not this kind of shit.” I point to the iPad.
“Well, the whole point of this shit, as you put it, is to try to make people see that you’ve reformed. So getting trashed at a bar is not an option.”
“We can skip getting trashed and go straight for the fucking then, if you like,” I say, my smartass grin widening. “You’re way too uptight. An orgasm might do you some good.”
Ava jerks back. “What? I am not uptight!”
“Oh please. You can barely walk with that stick up your ass. And anyway, who would know? I won’t say anything, you won't say anything. So what's the big deal?”
Ava doesn’t answer that. She just presses her lips together and looks away.
"We could do it right here," I say, leaning into her. I can feel the heat rising off her skin. “The privacy screen’s up, so the driver wouldn’t know. You can’t tell me you’ve never fucked in the back of a limo before. Even you couldn't resist the temptation.”
“I have never done that!” she protests, though I watch her eyes as they flicker down over my body. Even if she’s not lying and she hasn’t done it in the back of the limo, she’s definitely thinking about it now. “Don’t be so disgusting. My dad uses this car.”
“Even better,” I say. The idea that I’d be fucking Orson Westwood’s daughter in the limo he uses appeals to me more than a little. I can’t explain it, but my cock wants what it wants. I’ve never questioned its taste. “Anyway, are you serious? What’s the point in having a limo if you don’t have sex in the back of it? Didn’t any of your boyfriends have any sense of adventure?”
Ava shifts, looking uncomfortable. “It’s not that,” she mutters, shifting her legs so they’re nowhere near mine.
I can see she’s breathing fast, though. She’s a little flushed in that way I find so irresistibly sexy.
Fuck.
This girl can make me hard even in her conservative sweater and knee-length woolen skirt. They do nothing to disguise her perky tits or the killer curves of her hips. And she's so prim and proper I just can’t help wanting to get a rise out of her.
“Then what is it?” I ask. “Because everything about you screams that you need a good, hard fuck from someone who knows how to do it — someone who’ll make you come so hard you'll scream.”
For a moment,
“So?” she demands, her voice rising. “What’s wrong with that?”
I’d only brought up my scholarship and shitty family background to get a rise out of her — if she thinks it’s such a problem, then I’ll rub it in her face. I might be poor, but I still go to Blaketon just the same as her and her snobby friends, only I got here on pure, raw talent.
“Are you joking?” I ask. “I’m not having everyone think I’m your kept man. That’s ridiculous. I’m not having people say that.”
Ava looks up at me, her lip curling a little. “I hate to break it to you, but it’s 2016,” she says. “The women’s liberation movement happened. We can even get jobs and pay for dates now. It’s not a big deal.”
“Well, it’s a big deal to me. We’re not going there.” I close the tab, and use my thumb to scroll through the rest of Murray’s chosen restaurants. “No. No. No. I’d never take a girl to any of these places, and everyone knows it. Wasn’t the point of this that it has to look real?”
Ava sighs. She’s leaning in so close to me now that I can feel the puff of hot breath against my neck. “All right then, where do you usually take girls on dates?”
I grin, knowing it makes me look cocky as hell, and knowing that girls love it. “I don't. We usually just head straight to the nearest bed. Why not just cut right to the chase? It’s what they want, it’s what I want. Why waste our time?”
“So you’ve never been on a date,” Ava says flatly. “It’s all just fucking from the moment you lay eyes on each other.”
I shrug. “We might go out for pizza and beer. But not this kind of shit.” I point to the iPad.
“Well, the whole point of this shit, as you put it, is to try to make people see that you’ve reformed. So getting trashed at a bar is not an option.”
“We can skip getting trashed and go straight for the fucking then, if you like,” I say, my smartass grin widening. “You’re way too uptight. An orgasm might do you some good.”
Ava jerks back. “What? I am not uptight!”
“Oh please. You can barely walk with that stick up your ass. And anyway, who would know? I won’t say anything, you won't say anything. So what's the big deal?”
Ava doesn’t answer that. She just presses her lips together and looks away.
"We could do it right here," I say, leaning into her. I can feel the heat rising off her skin. “The privacy screen’s up, so the driver wouldn’t know. You can’t tell me you’ve never fucked in the back of a limo before. Even you couldn't resist the temptation.”
“I have never done that!” she protests, though I watch her eyes as they flicker down over my body. Even if she’s not lying and she hasn’t done it in the back of the limo, she’s definitely thinking about it now. “Don’t be so disgusting. My dad uses this car.”
“Even better,” I say. The idea that I’d be fucking Orson Westwood’s daughter in the limo he uses appeals to me more than a little. I can’t explain it, but my cock wants what it wants. I’ve never questioned its taste. “Anyway, are you serious? What’s the point in having a limo if you don’t have sex in the back of it? Didn’t any of your boyfriends have any sense of adventure?”
Ava shifts, looking uncomfortable. “It’s not that,” she mutters, shifting her legs so they’re nowhere near mine.
I can see she’s breathing fast, though. She’s a little flushed in that way I find so irresistibly sexy.
Fuck.
This girl can make me hard even in her conservative sweater and knee-length woolen skirt. They do nothing to disguise her perky tits or the killer curves of her hips. And she's so prim and proper I just can’t help wanting to get a rise out of her.
“Then what is it?” I ask. “Because everything about you screams that you need a good, hard fuck from someone who knows how to do it — someone who’ll make you come so hard you'll scream.”
For a moment,
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