She looked startled. "Why?"
"To get you a party dress."
"Oh." She eyed me curiously. "I actually have a party dress."
"You do?"
"I've only worn it to every holiday party for years."
"I can't picture it in my mind."
She crossed her arms, and who could blame her? The Platonic Shutter over my eyes had really made me blind—for years. I could recall her smiles and jokes and the things she'd done, and I knew her general style, but not specific outfits.
"It's fancy, though." She clicked her tongue. "I was just gonna wear pants." Though she seemed nonchalant, I noticed her biceps clenching. She was doing her fist thing again.
"I'd like to see you in a dress," I said casually.
"You know what, Asher, I've changed my mind. There's an easy solution to all this. We won't go to the party."
"Oh, no, you don't, not this shit. We're going, Sloane. I just have to figure out why you have your panties in a twist."
"It's stupid. They'll fuss no matter what we say, because of your breakup…" She flattened her lips, staring down at herself again. "That'll be the real thing on their minds. You and Aura were the big show. It'll be all about you guys. And if…I don't know, I don't know, I don't know what my problem is!"
I put down my cup. "Are you worried that Karl and Aura will be there? It's not a sure thing. You know Karl's unpredictable."
She shrugged. "I just don't see the need to draw attention to me when everyone will be interested in you and Aura. And if Aura's there and they see her and they see me…oh, never mind."
Aura.
Damn. This wasn't about Charis trying to avoid pointed questions about our girl swap. Or even the age difference.
This was Charis not being secure in her body.
Not wanting to be compared with Aura.
Shit.
Not this again.
CHAPTER 27
One Year Ago—Can You Believe Those People
Charis: PDAs—good, bad, or neutral. PDAs being public displays of affection, not personal digital assistants.
Asher: Good. Wait, no, it depends.
Charis: On?
Asher: Getting arrested is bad. Giving her a thrill is good. Why are you looking at me like that?
Charis: Giving her a thrill? Are we talking about PDAs or public sex? PDAs are just kisses and hugs and stuff.
Asher: Kisses and hugs are public sex.
Charis: What? No, they're not.
Asher: So innocent. So unworldly. You ever kiss a guy in public, Sloane?
Charis: Sure. I mean probably. Maybe. I don't remember.
Asher: When you do, you can talk to me about PDAs. Until then, you know nothing.
Charis: Well what is it then? Spill it, Asher. What's so sexy about embracing in public?
Asher: Use your imagination.
Charis: I have a great imagination, and I can't imagine. PDAs aren't obscene, they're all clean fun.
Asher: Sure about that? You're looking kind of pink there. Well? Nothing to say?
Charis: I'm going to the gym.
Asher
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU'RE not coming in with me."
"Yes, I am."
Charis stood with her hands akimbo. "I'll have you know nobody has gone into a fitting room with me since the fifth grade."
"Not even your mom? I thought all mothers did that in order to rag on their daughters."
"Not even my mother. I mean it, Ash. I'd like privacy in here."
Charis was practically stomping her foot. I winked at the store clerk, who smiled slightly at us and withdrew to greet another customer. The place was getting busy.
"I want to watch you try on your dresses." I pushed Char into the dressing room, closing the door firmly behind us. "Otherwise you'll probably start reading the tags and start wondering where they were imported from and ask the sales lady all kinds of questions and we won't fucking get out of here till dusk."
"They're not my dresses." She didn't deny the rest, you'll note.
"One of them will be." I prayed it was true. One store was my limit.
"Maybe." She eyed the enormous hanging stack of garments I'd picked out for her.
Yes, that wasn't a typo. I, Asher "Shopping Is My Version of Hell" Norrell had gone shopping with Charis voluntarily. Hell, I'd initiated the whole expedition.
After our squabble at breakfast, we'd showered and then taken off. She still protested, but I had a plan.
My reasoning was as follows. Charis had dragged me to watch half a dozen Cinderella movies over the years. Out of this cruel act one useful takeaway emerged: babes get wet for party dresses.
We'd get a dress for her to wear tomorrow. It was going to be such an awesome dress that it wouldn't occur to her to obsess about being compared with Aura.
Right. Like I had such a great track record controlling the Doubting Mind of a Woman.
Still, there was no denying the magic power of clothing. My sisters still talk about Mel's wedding gown, four years later.
I'd even picked the store. We arrived as it opened its doors. I was determined to get in and out fast and back in time to receive those deliveries.
Unfortunately, I knew about these boutiques.
Larch Lady was a favorite of Aura's. Last time I'd sworn nobody could drag me through the lavender-trimmed doors again. You sat in these ridiculous carved chairs and were interrupted every five minutes trying to get some real work done on your phone while your girlfriend looked at every single item on every single rack.
Aura could literally spend half a dozen hours in here. One time we'd spent all morning in this hellhole, left for lunch and returned.
And all. The chicks. Flirted. It didn't matter that you were actually accompanying a woman; you got flirted with if you came in with a dick.
Aura isn't alone, either. My sisters are impossible to uproot from these kinds of places.
I thought Charis would be better, but she was equally exasperating, in a different way. She just stood there gazing around. She seemed completely lost and out of her element.
Since it looked like nobody else was willing to be the grownup here, I'd sicced the sales lady on her while I did all the hard work of scouring for dresses.
I wouldn't say it was entertaining, but interesting, yes. With us guys, you just plugged in some data—woven shirt, cotton-linen, long sleeves, blue, chest 46, waist 33—and you got immediate results.
These dresses hanging on the rack, you had to look at every one. They were colorful blobs to me. I had no idea how they'd look on Charis. In my world, a dress was something to get off a woman, not on. I wished Doug or Dad were here. Their superpower was being able to deduce from a flat shape precisely what it looked like assembled into 3D.
There was a drapey-sleeved semi-transparent something with a wrappy front. There was a green shiny item missing one shoulder but I don't think it had been sabotaged, it looked sewn that way. One peachy wisp of a thing looked like undergarments, so it got my vote. I snatched up a godawful ugly wrinkly garment that matched her eyes. And on and on.
After announcing her size, Charis seemed content to let me select for her while she drilled the shop lady with question after question. I listened with growing amusement.
Naturally her questions weren't anything sane like do you have anything in my size? or what colors are popular this season?
No, what I heard was, if this store suddenly had to stop selling clothing, what do you think would be a good business to start in a building like this and would you agree that the ushering in of synthetic fibers caused a radical shift in fabric production worldwide which in turn affected the production of fossil fuels itself—
"Yeah, she's gonna try these on now," I cut her off, rescuing the female sales clerk, a pretty brunette in her forties.
"Can't take you fucking anywhere, Sloane," I accused.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't know what to pick. It was your idea to come here, if you recall."
<
br /> I snorted. "It's not the clothes, it's the questions."
"Was there a problem? The lady asked if she could help me with anything."
I lost the urge to tease her when she looked worried. "No, babe. My bad."
She looked around as if someone would arrest us for Talking With Endearments, then eyed me suspiciously.
I said no more. This is what it's like to be with Sloane in public, by the way. Every single time she steps out of the ivory tower, she leaves her head behind. She analyzes everything. She isn't like the other kids. She's more like Alice and the real world is her rabbit hole. It makes her curiouser and curiouser.
Now we were ensconced together in a dressing room, I waved at my booty. "Go ahead, try them on."
I watched the wheels spinning in her head as she tried to decide.
Clothes. Me. Clothes. Me.
She clicked her tongue and shook her head.
"Strip, woman." I raised my voice just enough to win this argument.
Rolling her eyes, she turned her back, whipped her shirt over her head and shimmied out of her slacks.
My mouth went dry.
Forget those unexciting undies, she was a land of hidden treasures. Fine bones tapering into curves, not angles as I'd once assumed, down her long spine to the dip of her waist…tight little ass but definitely not flat, lean, defined legs…and that was just her back.
The mirror at her front exposed the rest.
That part was pure sex.
Tiny bra cups for tiny breasts with jutting nipples.
A slim, toned abdomen and slit of a belly button.
Thighs that left a gap, a gap that should be widened.
Water pooled in my mouth. I wanted to push her down to the little seat, ease aside the crotch of her panties and help myself to her.
Here. This minute. In this fitting room.
I was literally shaking with the need to do it.
I looked away on a short laugh. It was like I'd never seen a woman in underwear before.
When I risked another glance, I caught her frozen, staring in the mirror at me. Her cheeks and chest were very pink.
I sauntered up to her. She skittered away from me.
"Hey, Sloane." My stare was intent. I now had a new goal that did not include getting her out of here ASAP.
"Hey, uh, fella."
"That's a nice bra."
"Yeah. Most of my bras are more…I mean, this is my nicest. It's nice. Thanks."
I let my hands settle on her shoulders and bent down to murmur in her ear. "Which one do you want to try on first?" Mischievously I pointed to each of her breasts.
I don't think she knew what to do with my suggestive talk. Her eyes slid away.
"Well?"
"Ahm, uh, I don't know," she squeaked. Her gaze shifted to the hanging dresses. "I saw a green one that seemed…possible?"
"That'll look nice on you." I brought her chin forward. Then capturing her eyes in the mirror, I cupped one little breast in my big palm.
Her teeth gnawed her lip. She shook her head.
I nodded slowly.
She shook it harder.
I rubbed my thumb across her nipple.
"Asher…" It was a hiss, broken off when I intentionally scratched her.
You'd think I'd lashed her with a bolt of electricity. The shock at my audacity!
Which only encouraged me. The way she tried to give me her Big Sister look while simultaneously arching, her ass sticking out in an invitation no guy could mistake…that's some drugging shit.
I kissed her nape, licked the delicate shell of her ear. "Hi there, Ms. Sloane," I whispered. "I bet I know how to get you in the mood for shopping."
"Oh, my God." Her eyes said, you wouldn't dare.
Yet she just stood there when I rolled her nipple through the cloth, then slid off the strap of her bra…exposing that ridiculously sexy nipple.
Stood there submissively. Taking it.
Asking for it.
Sloane, being submissive. Who knew she had it in her?
"Nothing to say?" I murmured. "Where's your attitude, girl? Not gonna put me in my place?"
She whimpered.
Fuck, if this was cradle robbing, I'd eat my phone. More like I was corrupting her.
Somehow I didn't think that thought would reassure her.
"Brace yourself," I said, careful to keep my volume low. There was a full-length closed door between us and the storefront, but it wasn't soundproof. Fact, not theory. Yeah, I might have gotten up to minor shenanigans in one of these dressing rooms before.
Minor, mind you. Not like what I had planned now.
In case you think I make a habit of pervy public behavior.
I really am a gentleman, though, nine times out of ten.
"What are you gonna do?" she whispered.
"I'm gonna pluck this tit," I said, demonstrating so she jerked involuntarily. "But you'll need to be totally silent. No shrieking. Quiet and still. No wiggling or bumping things either or they'll hear us out there. You game for this? Well?" when she just stood there with her mouth open.
She gave a tiny nod. "Go," she said.
Fucking adorable.
"Lean on me. Watch us in the mirror. Relax. This is just for fun."
Her breath caught and she leaned back. Her spine was the opposite of relaxed. "I can't believe this."
"I'll take care of you," I promised. "Anything you're worried about, I've got it. I promise, Sloane. I've got you."
She nodded. I felt her relax. Now I knew she could feel me hard against her.
Holding her eyes in the mirror, I stroked the flesh of her breast, swirling gradually inward towards the target in the center. By the time I reached it, I could smell how into this she was.
My hand itched to explore what was happening in her panties. Instead I used my teeth on her earlobe, a reliably erogenous zone for most females, while I ground my hips against her.
"Here's the plan." I spoke into the shell of her ear. "I'm just teasing your nipple now, but soon I'll start really working it hard. It might hurt just a bit. You just tell me if it's too much. While that's happening, I want you to think about your pussy. Not the people out there, not the store, not anything else. Only your pussy. You with me?"
Another nod. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks little flames, her chest blazing with a blush I suspected was four fifths lust and the rest shyness.
"Well?" she breathed, her eyes locked to my finger brushing her tit.
"The anticipation is killer, isn't it?" I murmured. "It's like that time we were in line at that county fair down in Walla Walla. You tried to cut in front of that old couple with their grandkid. You're a real impatient person, Sloane, you know that?"
She stuck out her tongue at me, but then moaned.
I licked the dent of her temple.
Felt her nipple stab against my fingertips.
"Asher! You're driving me insane!"
"Sh, keep it down. Ready to think about your pussy?"
Nod.
"But you're not gonna make a sound while it's happening, are you?"
Head shake.
"Okay. Here it comes. Get ready."
I gave her a couple of seconds…then I pinched her—hard.
My sweet girl responded beautifully. Her moan never made it past the choking stage, which was good, because if she let herself be as loud as I knew she could be, we'd get arrested.
So now I got busy.
A moment here to say something about my magic hands. This isn't ego talking. Straight up, I made a girl come while losing my virginity. You heard me—at only sixteen this happened. I've never told a living soul about that because—don't laugh—I've been afraid to jinx it. Karl and everyone had told me I'd be shit in bed at first. Nope, I killed it.
After such a good omen, I spent as much time messing around with girls as fucking them. One sweetheart had an aversion to being touched below the waist, so I kissed and fondled her breasts, enjoying her so long she'd come that wa
y. That was a very good day.
After that, practice, practice, practice.
No need to belabor the point. Suffice it to say, by the time I graduated high school, I'd learned how to get a woman off in a variety of interesting ways.
Where you touched her mattered less than how. And how you touched her mattered less than how you read her signals.
In case it seems excessive that I wanted to bring Charis pleasure in the dressing room of a hoity-toity clothing boutique, I'll remind you that getting a woman off is one of my favorite hobbies, Charis is my favorite person, and I fucking hate shopping.
"You don't have to come," I teased in her ear. "But if you do, I'll make you fried chicken for dinner again."
Her eyes grew wild.
"I know your pussy is wet, Sloane. This is turning you on, the fact that we're messing around in here while out there a bunch of ladies are shopping in total ignorance. Am I right?"
She kicked her heel back, but it was only half-hearted.
"I can smell that you want to come. You want to come bad. Your pussy's tightening up. Tell me you know it."
She nodded.
"And it turns you on that I know it, that I know what your pussy's doing without even touching it and I'm not gonna stop until you come."
Hesitation, gasping, nod.
A knock sounded, making her jump out of her rapt focus on me.
Damn, and I'd just been warming up.
"Everything all right in there?" called a cheerful voice.
I took a deep breath. "We're fine, thanks," I called, smoothing out the frown in Charis's forehead. I pressed my finger to her lips until the footfalls went away.
"You're fine, you're okay," I murmured. "We have ten outfits in here at least. They're busy. Nobody's coming in here, but if they do use their key, I'll get Ryanna to bail us out of jail. She'll keep our secret."
"Asher Norrell, you are beyond inappropriate," she seethed.
"I know, right? It's unbelievable sometimes what I think I can get away with. Seriously," I laughed.
"Argh. I don't know what I was thinking. You know what, go away. Go. Just—no. Wait. No." Char was running her hands through her hair, brimming with frustration.
"You know you want it, your pussy wants it, needs it…" I cajoled.
Unfriended: A Geek and Stud Romance (Love in New Highland Book 1) Page 24