My cock twitched at the thought of her in that tiny bikini. Her silky chestnut shampoo commercial hair fell ¾ of the way down her back with bangs that swept gently across her forehead and I could imagine wrapping the long length of her hair around my fist and pulling her head toward my cock. I imagined taking handfuls of it while I did her from behind.
She had the sort of lips women paid to upgrade to. For a second, while looking at her file, my jaw tightened at the fact that my man had taken this photo of her, looked at her in those scraps of material. I felt like a possessive prick, wanting to knock him out for even looking at her. She was semi sexually active but not slutty, on birth control, but no boyfriend for the past month or two. Earl told me that there was a little punk ex-boyfriend sniffing around, trying to get her attention again. She was giving him the brush off. I had video of him trying to talk to her over a fence while she was in that bikini. She seemed like she could be a bit of a cock tease by the looks of it. She had a bit of sass but not enough to come across like a bitch. No, it was just enough to make me want to bring her to heel.
The girl hadn’t had it easy; her old man was a piece of shit, by the sounds of it. She worked part-time at an ice cream shop near the foster home but she also did volunteer work at the animal shelter as well as at a nearby old age home. She wasn’t a typical 19 year old girl out to party and spend and that appealed to me, too. Not a virgin but not a slut.
After way too much attention spent looking at videos of her and flipping through a file of photos and general intel, I decided to stroll in and size up the potential chemistry in person. Regardless of what she looked like, I needed to know if there would be any sort of spark before moving forward.
Yeah, most would say I should just let her go, let her go live her life. If I was a nice guy that’s what I’d probably do. There were girls out there that I’d already been with who’d be more than happy to wear my ring and sleep in my bed. But I guess I’m not a nice guy. The thing was that my Pop had a claim on her so either I took the gift or he’d give her to someone else. Either way, she was now Ferrano property. That was my justification, as twisted as that was. She was property of the Ferrano family so if I had to get married, she’d might as well become mine. Yeah, I know; I guess I’m not even a little bit of a good guy.
** ** **
Bells jingled over the door to the small store as I walked in. Music played and it had a fifties diner theme going with a long white counter flanked by a dozen or so red and chrome stools and half a dozen little red tables, some for two, some for four, in front of a big window that looked out to the busy street. She was working alone and the shop was empty except for a prepubescent kid playing on his handheld game system at the counter while nursing a drink and making an annoying slurping sound as it was obviously just a few ice cubes rattling around in the bottom of the cup. I gave him the ‘scram’ stare and jerked my chin toward the door. The kid gulped, grabbed his skateboard, and took off.
I stood at the counter and watched her. She was up on a footstool stocking a shelf above her head with small boxes of ice cream cones and she was humming along to the song on the radio. Her arms over her head made her tank top ride up, showing her bare lower back and two sexy dimples at the base of her spine. My pants suddenly felt tight. She had a juicy heart-shaped ass popping from those tight low rider jeans. And the knowledge that it was mine? In that moment, with that knowledge, I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from taking her right then and there.
She turned around and smiled at me expectantly. Then she instantly blushed. Yeah, I had that effect on women. Nope, she didn’t look like a teenager in person, either. She look
ed closer to 25. Her pictures didn’t even do justice; she was fucking beautiful.
“Can I help you?” she beamed. She quickly moistened her full pink lips with the tip of her tongue and eyed me in a way that I liked. It wasn’t the look of a woman hunting man prey. This was shyness and anticipation. This was a girl feeling her body tingle at the idea that the guy in front of her could be remotely interested in her. Clearly she had no clue how beautiful she was. And obviously she liked what she saw when she looked at me.
“I hope so,” I smirked at her.
She climbed down and straightened her black tank top, pulling it down slightly to cover her midriff but resulting in revealing just the scalloped tops of the cups of a lace black bra and (probably unintentionally) giving me an even better view of her cleavage. Great rack. Full c-cup, maybe even a D.
“What do you recommend?”
She flushed even pinker and it was clear she’d seen where my eyes had landed, “Umm, we have ice cream, cold drinks. If you want something hot I can do coffee, hot chocolate, cappuccino…” she trailed off.
Hot. Yeah, I’d like something hot. “Surprise me,” I told her.
She chewed her lip shyly, “Well, what do you like?”
“I see plenty that I like. What do you like?” I asked, widening my eyes at her and then trailed my gaze from her eyes to her mouth, down to her hips, and then back up. I did this slowly, being very obvious that I was checking her out.
“Hmm,” she smiled at me and eyed me up and down, too, showing me she liked what she saw, “Hungry or thirsty?”
Mmm. “Hungry,” I said.
“We don’t have much for food, really. Popcorn, nachos, ice cream?” she suggested.
“What flavor?” I asked her.
“There’s a list up there.” She motioned behind herself.
“What’s your favorite flavor?” I asked.
“Call me weird but I really just love plain old vanilla.” She shrugged.
I almost laughed at her. My face split into a grin. I bet she did. I bet vanilla was all she’d been exposed to so far.
“You are weird,” I said.
She wrinkled her nose up at me and fuck, but it was adorable.
“Vanilla when there are so many flavors to choose from?” I drummed my fingertips on the counter, staring into the ice cream freezer, “Bah, vanilla sounds like a good start,” I sat on a stool.
“One scoop or two?” she asked, flushing even pinker. I wondered if she picked up on the double entendre.