Bootycall 2 - J. D. Hawkins Page 0,15
I need to eat it again. I feel a bulge in my pants and I try to stop it.
“Let me see the back.” I say as I try to gain control over my semi.
She smiles shyly, but does as I say.
Oh that ass. What I wouldn’t do to fuck her from behind right now, my dick deep in her, while I play her clit like a harpsichord.
She turns back around and her smile melts my heart. I was going to say something dirty, but instead the words that come out of my mouth are pure.
“You are so beautiful.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, my favorite gesture of hers and a clear tell that she’s nervous.
“Thank you,” she whispers, ducking back into the changing room.
Since I started depending on her I’ve begun seeing Gemma as more than just a collection of curves that I wanna play with all day long. But that doesn’t mean those feelings aren’t still raging within me.
I suck down glass after glass of champagne, doing my best to douse the flames that are beginning to burn inside me once again. After a while I just stop lavishing Gemma with compliments – what can you really say when you’re witnessing something this special? The only true way I could show my appreciation isn’t with words.
As she spins around in a new skirt that flutters around her legs teasingly, a blouse on top that’s so tight I can see the faint trace of her perfect-for-biting nipples, I stand up, unable to hold it in anymore. If we don’t get out of here soon, Greg’s about to get a front seat for a show of his own – only this time the clothes will be coming off.
“We’ll take it all,” I say.
“Excellent, Mr. Marlowe.”
Gemma looks between me and Greg with confusion and surprise.
“What?”
“It’s ok,” I say, “I know your address. I’ll have them sent to you.”
“Wait. No. This is way too much. I can’t, Dylan. Thank you, really, but—”
“Listen to me,” I say, grabbing Gemma’s arms again, and using every last drop of willpower not to bring my hands around to grab at the sexual roundness of her breasts, “we can spend twenty minutes arguing about this, after which I’ll pretend to give in, and just have these clothes sent to you anyway, or you can not argue, agree to take the clothes, and we can go grab lunch. What’s it gonna be? Lunch or pointless argument?”
Her blue-eyed gaze rolls over my face, first with defensiveness, then with defeat.
“I…you’re so stubborn, Dylan,” she says, shaking her head.
“I am when I know what I want.”
“Let me change, then.”
“No chance. I’ve been wanting to see you wear something worthy of you for weeks. Now that you’re wearing it, I wanna enjoy it. Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the changing rooms. “See you, Greg.”
“Have a wonderful day, Mr. Marlowe.”
We check out more stores, loading ourselves with bags. Gemma never stops telling me the prices of things, but frankly, I’ve spent ten times as much for things that gave me only half as much pleasure as seeing just how beautiful she can be. It’s not even the clothes, it’s the way her face looks when she gazes at herself in the mirror while wearing these things. As if she’s only just realizing what I see when I look at her.
We take a break in a nice little restaurant, ordering the chef’s choice off the seasonal menu and sipping on a couple of cocktails while we wait.
“Shit,” Gemma says in the middle of a story about her college days. She turns suddenly, hiding her face with the palm of her hand. Her jaw tenses.
“What?” I say, turning to the place in the restaurant she’s obviously hiding from.
“That guy over there, in the leather jacket, that’s my ex. Robb.”
“Gemma!” comes a voice from the direction she’s discreetly pointing at. I look up to see the guy in the leather jacket she just mentioned. All smarmy self-assurance and too-tight jeans and over-gelled hair. “Hey, Gemma! I haven’t heard from you in ages!”
“Hey Robb,” Gemma says, dropping her boxer-like defensive pose.
“Oh, hi!” he says, when he notices me. “You’re…”
“In the middle of lunch. So if you don’t mind.”
“Dylan Marlowe! Wow!” he turns back to Gemma. “Wait a minute…”
“Robb,” Gemma pleads, her voice coming out small and begging, in tones that don’t sound right for a woman like her. “Not now. Please.”
Robb looks between me and Gemma, his excitement at seeing