I slid a tracker into the hem of the shirt. I could figure out what she was going to try to do. But soon, she would learn that I didn't break my promises. Nor did I let people take what was mine. Not without severe consequences.
Walking back out into the living room, Sweetcheeks was drumming her fingers on the granite countertop in the kitchen. She nibbled and twisted on her lower lip. As I watched, she winced and dabbed at her lip with her fingers.
Rolling her eyes, she stuck the tip of her finger in her mouth. Mumbled around the digit. When she pulled it from her mouth, she gave it a smirk.
She was amazing.
She was mine.
"Here. You might want to wear these." I handed her a pair of joggers, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. Late September wasn't freezing, but it could get a little nippy.
