“What does that mean?”
“It means, don’t worry about price. We need to buy everything you would pack in a suitcase.”
For the next three hours we worked our way around the different departments. By the end, I had enough clothes for about seven days, a few different styles of shoes, undergarments, purse with accompanying wallet, costume jewelry as well as some real pieces Six picked out, and a hard sided suitcase to put it all in. There was even a full cosmetics bag, and the clerk had done my makeup.
Six was so involved in the process, he had a hand in choosing a lot of my clothes and shoes. He even picked out a few undergarments he was partial to, adjusting his cock as he held them up in front of me. The man had no shame in letting me know when he wanted to fuck, which seemed to be always.
In the ten days I’d known him, the guy shopping with me was vastly different from the captor who chained me up. The way he acted like an eccentric man spoiling a socialite woman, although I was anything but, was a huge contrast to the gun-toting killer who smacked me around more than once when I got out of line.
Either he was a really good actor, or he really did have multiple personalities. Jury was still out.
After looking at myself in the mirror, however, I felt the same. In a few short hours, a lot of money, and some makeup, I was transformed into a high-class suburban housewife, but I didn’t feel the part.
Six also purchased his own set of items. The amount of clothes he’d had all week wasn’t much more than the basics I had been wearing.
“Why are we getting so much?” I asked as he swiped a credit card for the fourth purchase, making our total well over four grand, if not more.
“Baby, they lost our luggage.” He played up our cover well, but I had a feeling this was not his first time at the rodeo.
Once done, we returned to the car to drop off our purchases. I thought we were done, but Six drove around the parking lot to another store.
Next was Nordstrom’s, it seemed. I’d never stepped foot in one before, and I suddenly felt very out of place.
“These dresses are made for the super skinny,” I whispered. It was for the looked-like-a-runway-model kind of place. Not to mention what was sure to be a hefty price tag.
“You’re curvy in all the right places,” he said, wetting his lips and giving me a little groan as he squeezed my ass.
Fucking brain stopped and my pussy got wet. Why did that turn me on? I was a motherfucking hostage.
The situation was too weird, too strange to even compute. Sane people would be flagging clerks down, slipping between clothing racks and hightailing it away from him. Instead, I was standing in a department store acting like his wife with a wet spot in my underwear.
All the psych evaluations I did to get my job were suddenly moot and obviously a failure if the mindset I was in seeped through.
“Why are we here? Didn’t we get enough?” I asked as he pulled me through the store.
Once again, he didn’t say anything, but when we stopped in front of a case holding some heels, my mouth dropped open.
“Those are Christian Louboutins,” I said with wide eyes and possibly some drool.
“And?”
“And they cost a lot.”
“Who the fuck cares?” He leaned forward, the soft edge leaving his eyes. “I want to fuck you wearing nothing but those.” He pointed to a pair of patent black peep-toe platform heels.
Seemed we had begun bartering shoes for sex.
I needed to add Louboutins to my bucket list and check them off. Sex for those shoes? Yes, please!
Who the hell was I kidding? The man didn’t need to buy me anything to fuck me. He had the strength to take what he wanted, and I’d become a willing participant in his depraved acrobatics.
“You need a few expensive pieces.”
“I do?”
“None of what we bought screamed ‘I have more money than sense.’ You need a dress, shoes, and a purse somewhere in the five mark.”
“Hundred?”
He shook his head. “Thousand.” My mouth dropped open. “I also need a tailored suit of equal expense.”
“How much time do we have to do all that?”
His lip twitched up into a smirk. “Luckily, I already have such a suit. Now to find you something sexy.”
An hour later, I had a month’s salary worth of a dress, shoes, and a purse and we were headed out the door.
“Ah, one last thing.” He grabbed my hand and slipped a ring onto my left ring finger.
A gasp left me as I looked down at the bridal set and the huge solitaire diamond. The set was beautiful. “Is this real?”
“For thirty thousand, it better be.”
“What?” I stared down at my hand and the equivalent of four months’ salary.
“It’s two carats.”
“How?” And why in the hell was I getting emotional over the fake relationship the ring represented? I knew the real Six, and not the actor in front of me.
He shrugged and smiled. “I have a lot of money and no overhead.”