Page 64 of The Puck Player

“Alexander, don’t be mean, they are only teasing you, I’m sure they’ve done it before when you’ve brought girls home,” she laughs, and then both my parents smile knowingly.

“Ah, well you see, Miss Callows, our son has never actually brought a girl home before,” my father announces, and her head snaps in his direction, looking between him and me to see if I disagree.

“You have never brought a girl home before?” she scoffs in disbelief. “You? The manwhore…” she quickly cuts off when she realizes what she is about to say, and my mother laughs.

“I think it was the prostitute he tried to book for his sixteenth birthday that first alerted us to his ways,” she muses, looking tomy father for confirmation, who only nods, before she continues. “And though we are far too aware of his extracurriculars, it seems he never deemed any of hismanylady friends good enough to meet us.”

My mother’s words leave Aubree staring at me in shock, and I open my mouth ready to defend myself, but the girl in question just laughs. “You tried to hire a prostitute for your sixteenth birthday?” she asks, completely bewildered, shaking her head at me.

“What else does a sixteen year old boy with too much money need?” I muse with a shrug, pouring us both a glass of pink lemonade, as Glinda sets it down in front of us.

“There is something seriously wrong with you, Alexander,” she sighs, still laughing, and the rest of them all agree with her.

“Don’t I know it, Trouble,” I toss back with a wink, and I can feel both my parents watching us closely. They know what this is, even if Aubree isn’t ready to admit it yet.

“So, Aubree, Alexander tells me you’ll both be joining us for the annual Striker Gala tonight,” my mother cuts in. “My beauty team will be arriving in a few hours and I’ve asked them to make room for you too, I’d love for you to join me so we can have some girl time together,” she pleads with a smile, and I see the panic in Aubree’s eyes.

Shit. I forgot to tell her about the gala.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know there was a gala,” she starts, glaring at me. “Alexander only mentioned a brunch, so I didn’t bring anything suitable for a gala,” she rushes out in a panic.

“It’s okay, I’ve taken care of it,” I tell her, reaching out and squeezing her hand gently, but her stare only hardens.

“You better not have spent more money on me,” she warns, and I see my dad hiding a smirk behind his hand, as my mother and Glinda share an amused look.

“Shall we eat,” I suggest to all of them instead of responding, and then I spend the next hour watching all three of them fall for her the same way I have, and when I finally excuse us to go to our room, they grumble at our departure.

The penthouse is spread out across three floors, with the top floor belonging solely to my parents, the middle floor belonging to me, and the bottom floor catering to the living spaces and guest rooms. I lead Aubree upstairs and down the hall until we reach my room, and when we push inside, I find our bags have already been placed neatly on the bench at the end of my bed.

Aubree studies the space in awe and I get it, this level of wealth is both obnoxious and unattainable to almost everyone on the planet, but I love taking things in through her eyes. She wanders around the space, lingering more on the personal items, such as books and photographs I have in here, than anything else, before stepping toward the floor to ceiling windows and admiring the view.

I expect some kind of comment about it all, yet when she turns and finds me staring, all she does is smirk. “What? I don’t get my own room?” she asks with a knowing smirk.

“Sure, if you want,” I reply smoothly, closing the distance between us, not stopping until I have her pressed against the window. “There are four more on this floor alone that you can choose from, but just know I will be crawling into bed beside you, no matter where you choose to sleep,” I promise, and her eyes flare in an excitement that has my dick once again stirring awake for some attention, but now is not the time for that.

“Is that a threat?” she whispers, clearly not knowing me as well as I thought she did.

“Oh no, Trouble, it’s a promise,” I warn, before pulling back and leaving her panting against the window. “Now come on,” I demand, moving to carry our bags into the walk-in closet, and it isn’t long until she follows behind me, taking a seat onthe long sleek bench in the center. “I got you a selection of dresses, all of which come with shoes, jewelry, and underwear that will compliment them,” I gesture to one of the rails that now completely caters to her, and her eyes flare wide as she takes them all in.

“Alexander,” she breathes in disbelief, as her eyes trails over every one of them in surprise. “This is too much, you don’t need to buy me gifts…”

I cut her off, dropping our bags at her feet, before throwing myself down beside her. “Trust me, they will be more of a gift for me than you,” I tease, imagining not just what she will look like in them, but what she would look like with me stripping her out of them too.

“But it’s too much,” she whispers again, and the way she says it has me wanting to punch Ben in the face all over again.

Hasn’t anyone ever spoiled her?

“Don’t worry, they were pocket change, love, and will no doubt be worth every penny when I get the privilege of seeing you in them,” I tell her truthfully, once again being granted that delicious blush of hers. “Now unpack and get settled,” I command, reaching for her bag and passing it over, and she snatches it with a roll of her eyes.

“You’re annoying,” she tells me, and me and my dick both preen under her praise.

Then we sit and watch as she delicately pulls out her things, placing them on one of my shelves in my closet. Her clothes, shoes, toiletries, and then I see her pause as she pulls out a little black box, hesitating with it in her hand.

“Sex toys?” I ask, attempting to cut some of the tension now lining her body, and she scoffs.

“Not quite as exciting I’m afraid,” she sighs, moving back to me with the box still in hand. “I packed it out of habit,” she adds mindlessly, passing it over to me, and I take it with a frown,sitting up slightly as I open it. Inside is a small, black bible and a set of black rosary beads. “They were a gift from Ben when I first started wearing my ring,” she explains, as I hand them back and she inspects them slowly. “I’ll get rid of them,” she states, fleeing the closet, but I follow after her, gripping her elbow and pausing her in place in my room.

“You don’t have to get rid of them,” I tell her softly. “Not if they mean something to you.”

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