Page 28 of The Freeuse Proposal
The last two weeks vanished in a blur of work and being Leo’s freeuse slut. Thanksgiving with him was... educational. Now December’s here, and I’ve finally carved out time for Willow.
Snow crunches under my boots as Willow and I push through the doors of the lingerie store. Winter showed up early this year, and judging by Willow’s grumbling, she’s not happy about it.
My mind keeps drifting back to Leo this morning and how his eyes tracked my every movement like he was already planning what he’d do when I got back. Willow’s voice washes over me, something about her new guy, and I make the right noises at the right times. But part of me watches from somewhere far away.
A month ago, this would have been enough—girl talk, shopping, complaining about work. Now it’s like wearing clothes that don’t fit anymore.
Not because Willow’s changed. Because I have.
And I can’t tell her why.
A salesperson approaches. “Welcome! Let me know if there’s anything I can help you find.”
Willow beams back. “Thanks, we will.”
I head straight for the good stuff, running my fingers over silk and lace while Willow makes a beeline for the whites. When she holds up a pristine lace babydoll, I giggle.
“Is that really the look you’re going for? You don’t want to scare him and make him think you’re walking down the aisle.”
She mumbles something and shoves it back on the rack.
Deep red. Midnight blue. My arms fill fast, and I smile as I imagine Leo peeling each piece away.
Willow’s watching me when I glance up. “What?”
She shakes her head, eyeing my overflowing arms. “How long are you planning on being in the dressing room? I thought this was quick.”
My lips curve. “We’re not trying any of this on. Pick out as much as you want. My treat.”
Her eyes go wide. “Seriously? Did you win the lottery or something?”
For a split second, the urge hits to tell her everything about Leo and the freeuse arrangement. Willow would probably squeal and demand details and be thrilled for me.
But she’d also have opinions and concerns. I’m not ready to defend something I don’t fully understand yet.
“I’ve got myself a sugar daddy.” My voice stays light. “He gave me his credit card.”
The words feel weird in my mouth. Sugar daddy. He’s probably close to twice my age, all that silver hair and experience, and he’s choosing to spoil me. Technically accurate, I guess. But it doesn’t come close to whatever the hell is happening between us.
At the register, Willow spots my name embossed on the black card. “Hey! You said this was the old geezer’s money.”
I giggle, nerves and giddiness tangling together. “It is. He got a card made for me.”
Her jaw drops. I wiggle my eyebrows. “Don’t worry. I plan to pay him back. With interest.”
Willow snorts, but curiosity replaces her shock as we head out with our bags. “So you’ve been holding out on me. You never said how Thanksgiving went with Mr. Moneybags. Here I thought you weren’t that interested.”
Just thinking about Leo makes me squirm. I think about Thanksgiving and heat crawls up my neck. I’d spent most of it naked. The meal had been an afterthought.
“It’s going well,” I say carefully. “I don’t want to talk about it yet and jinx it.”
The lie sits strangely on my tongue. Not because it’s untrue. It’s going well, but “going well” doesn’t capture any of it. Going well is a first date.
What’s happening with Leo is something else entirely. Something that scares me because I want it so much.
Willow bumps her shoulder against mine. “Fine. Keep your secrets for now. But you’ll spill eventually.”
“Deal.” I hold out my fist, and she bumps it.
