Page 77 of Sebastian

“No.”

Her hands rest on my bare chest, light and teasing as always and I groan in frustration.

“What if I give you one of yours?” I negotiate when her head tilts and she gives me a curious look.

“One of mine? We set a twenty-five-dollar limit, remember? So how can I have more than one?”

When she told me she wanted to cap the expenses for Christmas, I thought she was trying to be cute. As if trying to make sure I know she’s not after my wealth. I already knew that the day we met. When she told me the dollar amount, I choked on my drink, thinking I heard her wrong. Twenty-five dollars doesn’t even buy me a pair of socks much less a gift for my girlfriend. Too bad for her that I already purchased some things before she set the limit, her custom perfume being one of them.

“I cannot confirm or deny I stayed withinyourbudget.”

I hold her close, lowering my head to kiss her lips once before she pushes against me to free her.

“Sebastian, we agreed. I can’t afford to spend what you spend.” She throws her hands in the air. I’m entertained by the movement of her breasts as she rants. “What do I get the guy that has it all anyway? Do you know how hard you are to buy for? It’s impossible.”

“I told you what I want.”

She stops ranting, her hands on her hips when she huffs.

“I’m not growing out my pubic hair so my waxer can shape it into an S for you. It feels like a claim on my body.”

I shrug.

“It is. You belong to me, and I belong to you.” I tug my Christmas boxers down, my dick springing free to show her. “I’malready growing mine out for a big C in it. I even talked to the guy that handles my junk, and he said it’s a popular request.”

I pause and then the best idea ever comes into my mind.

“We should go together. He can do yours too. Like a couple's wax or something. I’m pretty sure they do it.”

Her hand slides over her face, a long sigh escaping at the same time.

“The answer is still no. Now what are you doing out here?”

She peers around me, noticing the runny eggs on the stove and the bacon in the oven—my attempt at making breakfast, guided by online instructions.

“I was trying to make you breakfast in bed before your cat kept making a bunch of noise. What’s her deal anyway?”

“She’s hungry.” She heads to the stove, turns down the heat on the eggs, and grabs some seasoning to add. “Her food is in the pantry if you will get it out.”

I comply, rummaging through the various cans until I read one that sounds more desirable than the rest. Popping open the lid, I about gag when I smell it. I definitely picked the wrong one.

“This smells like shit.”

“She doesn’t think so.”

The cat is back in the kitchen, meowing loudly at the sound of her can being opened. Chloe walks me through how to mix it with dry cat food before giving it to her. She gobbles it right up while I’m still gagging.

“Stop being so melodramatic and set the table please.”

So much for surprising her with breakfast in bed. Now that she’s taken over, bossing me around, I sneak off to snatch one of the presents I brought that only cost me five dollars at the craft store. I set it on the table while she finishes making breakfast and I contribute by buttering some new toast.

Once everything is ready, we sit down at the table to enjoy my feeble attempt at cooking Christmas Eve breakfast. Chloe looks at the spread with a playful twinkle in her eyes.

“Not bad for your first attempt,” she remarks, taking a bite of the eggs.

I grin, relieved that my efforts and the cat’s racket didn’t ruin the festive mood.

“What’s this?”

---