Aerith
Aerith was not fond of the idea of being used to ruffle the feathers of Mr. Drautosâ former girlfriend. It seemed petty and juvenile, like some high school stunt. But she knew money when she saw it. His well-made sweaters, his pristine watches, the subtle finery of his car parked in front of her house. Had he noticed her broken AC unit? The way her cat ate like a king even as her cupboards sat often bare? The way her emergency stash of money in her safe had begun to dwindle, stack by stack?
I could take care of you. You know I could. She resented that. Sheâd heard it before. First Rufus, cool and clinical and delivered like a threat and not a romantic proposal, then Gladio, coaxing and pleading and begging her away from carousel of customers that darkened her doorway.
But she could have used the money. And maybe a little partying with an older, emotionally unavailable man could help soothe the empty ache she got in her chest whenever she thought too long on her ex-boyfriend.
But she didnât tell him any of that right away. She let him kiss a languid line down the slope of her throat, lifting her hips against the press of his thigh as she sighed in contemplative consideration. The bite at her neck pulled her from her reverie.
âI could use a party,â she decided aloud, sliding her fingers at the hem of his shirt to tug it upwards over the broad of his chest and shoulders. âTake my mind off things.â Her fingers dandled along a pitted scar nestled in the curve of his collarbone. âWhat should I wear?â
Her hips were wicked, raising to meet the thick of his thigh, brushing the warmth of what lay between her leg against him. The tease.Â
But sheâd agreed to his proposition, and with far less necessary persuasion than he had been prepared to apply to her. Which was convenient, he supposed. But he didnât quite take her for a girl whose motives were solely money. Or pure and pointless frivolity. But while her intentions were unclear, her interest was, and her assent was all he wanted. Or cared about.Â
âIâll provide you with something to wear,â he mumbled into the junction where the cygnet slope of her throat met the curve of her shoulder. and sank his teeth into it with a new and savage possessiveness. âI think I know your size. But Iâll take a souvenir or two.â He hooked a finger beneath the strap of her inutile bra where it peeked beyond the collar of her shirt, pulled, and let it snap back against her collarbone. âJust in case. Iâll have the dress delivered to you beforehand, of course. With plenty of time in case you need tailoring.âÂ













