The Game by L.P. Lovell
19
Tobias stares out the window of the limo, drumming his fingers over the door panel as we drive across town. The tension emanating from him slowly fills the back cabin of the car, and I tear at my cuticles until they bleed. We hit the interstate and Tobias covers my hand with his own, imprisoning it against his thigh. “Stop,” he says but doesn’t bother to look at me.
The continued silence presses in on me until I can’t take it anymore. I scoot closer to him, inhaling the scent of sage and sex that seems to linger on him.
“Please, don't be mad,” I whisper, knowing I shouldn’t care about their approval. Shouldn’t is starting to become a meaningless word though.
“Anger is fleeting, disappointment mars you.” He faces me and the disapproval in his eyes sits heavy on my chest. “I'm not mad, Ella. Just disappointed. And you made the wrong choice, Ella.”
Preston’s fingers brush my leg. “Don't be so hard on her Tobias, you gave her the choice.”
“And she made the wrong one.”
Preston's arm comes around my shoulders, tugging me into his side. This is starting to feel all too familiar: Tobias's disappointment and Preston's warm embrace, ready and waiting to console me before he undoubtedly plays the bad guy again.
I watch the brownstones turn into illuminated high rises until the car finally stops amongst the towering skyscrapers of Fifth Avenue. The nightlife of the city swarms around me when I step onto the sidewalk. Young women in cute dresses, men vying for their attention. People laugh and talk as though the entire world is perfect.
Preston’s shadow cuts underneath a streetlamp. I take note of how freely he carries himself while Tobias walks as though the world is his own.
“Keep looking at me like that and see what happens, sweet Ella,” Preston warns. He lifts our clasped hands and brushes his mouth over my knuckles.
“Enough flirting, Preston.” A flash of annoyance crosses Tobias’s face as he holds a shop door open, and the three of us cross over the threshold of a high-end clothing store. We move through the racks of clothes I could never afford, and I notice there are no other customers. I wonder if Tobias demanded privacy, and if he did, what does that mean?
A beautiful, slender brunette in a tight, white dress steps out from the side of the room. I don’t miss the way she eyes Tobias or the way her red lips pull into a flirtatious smile as he approaches. I’m no stranger to that wanton look in her eye. After all, how many times has Tobias made me feel that same lust?
“She wants him,” Preston's mouth is right at my ear, the warmth of his body brushing my arm. “Do you think he would fuck her, Ella?”
An uncomfortable feeling creeps through my chest and I tense. My hands make tight fists. “Maybe.” Jealousy wells like a hot spring inside me, and I don’t even question it. I’ve learned it’s best not to question anything I feel in regards to Tobias.
“Do you want him to fuck her? Maybe you'd like to watch?”
Now I can’t help but imagine how Tobias and that woman would look together—Her expensive dress crumpled on the floor, them both naked, his hands fisting her hair. “No.”
“Why not?” Preston steps in front of me and blocks my view.
I meet his gaze. “Because he's ours.”
“Ah, sweet Ella. You are fucking perfect.” He kisses me, taking me by surprise when he thrusts his tongue inside my mouth. They may kiss me all the time, but never in public. In public, I'm like their dirty little secret, their pet on a leash.
I give in to him for the moment, not caring that we’re in the middle of Chanel and Versace dresses. With each swipe of his tongue, each brush of his hand, I heat. I forget where we are and bask in the carnal sensation, pressing my hand to the soft fabric covering his hard chest. Just as my hand creeps lower and brushes his belt, Tobias’s voice startles me. “Put this on.”
He shoves a garment back into my arms, then the brunette gestures for me to follow her to the changing room.
I slip into the silky, red dress and stare at my reflection, struggling to correlate the face I’ve always known to the person I’ve become over the past few days. The dramatic neckline plunges between my breasts, exposing enough to nearly show the edge of my areola. I look like an expensive whore, a socialite—something I am not.
I zip the dress, then sheepishly step out. Tobias and Preston have their backs to me, their heads dipped as they exchange hushed words. When I clear my throat, they turn around. Their gazes sweep me from head to toe.
Tobias adjusts himself in his slacks. “Do you like the dress? And remember, don't lie.”
The dress is beautiful, but when I drop my chin to my chest, all I can see are my exposed breasts. Would I wear this if they hadn’t given it to me? No.
It shows too much, and although I’m not a prude, I would never wear something this sexy. “It's a little...revealing.”
“Tough,” Tobias says. “You wear what I give you.”
Of course I do...