Page 90 of Savage

Tank’s eyes widen. “You’re not on birth control?”

“Nope,” I say, with a look that pretty much sayswell duh, meathead. “My pill is back at the clubhouse, and you won’t let me go there. You also won’t let me put anything in my mouth that isn’t some kind of fruit or vegetable, remember?”

“We gotta get you a doctor’s appointment then.”

“You mean you’ll let me take a pill?”

“No,” he says, pushing the trolley into line behind a young family. “You can get one of those things in your arm, like Brooke and Neisha have.”

“Oh goody, there’s nothing like having some arsehole jam a rod in your arm so some other arsehole can fuck you anytime they want without the risk of knocking you up.”

“Better than a screaming baby tearin’ up your shit nine months later.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his chin toward the screaming kids in front of us who are fighting over the last chips in the bag, their frazzled mother ignores them as she simultaneously pays the cashier and barks sharp commands into her phone.

“You know you could always wear a condom,” I suggest, but I find my nose wrinkling in a mirror of Tank’s even as I say it. “Doctors it is then.”

I don’t really know why we’re even having this conversation. It’s not like we’re having sex.

Not for lack of trying on my part.

Tank is a fantastic lay; he’s attentive and able to lift me like a ragdoll, which always makes for interesting shower, wall or anywhere-at-all sex, and his thick cock has just the right amount of curve and length to both make it hurt and keep me coming all night long. But it’s a bad idea. I know it as well as he does. I’d be replacing one addiction with another, and Tank? Well, I don’t want him to get too comfortable. I’ll do as he asks because not drying out means being out on my arse, wherehecan get to me, and I can’t let that happen. I need time and money first, and I need a plan.

Tank pulls out his phone while we wait in line and barks a few monosyllabic responses into it. When he hangs up, he tells me he got me an appointment for later this afternoon with the Butcher, and all my hopes that I can somehow swindle the doc into a prescription for pain meds dies with his I-know-exactly-what-you’re-planning smile.

Tank, killing junkie’s dreams since 1982.

I should have known he wouldn’t take me to a real clinic. Stupid of me to think for even a second that he’d risk me getting my hands on anything that wasn’t approved by Health Nuts ’R’ Us.

Once we’re done in Kmart, he drives me down the tiny main street of Leura and pulls into a car park in front of a row of boutique shops. Tank grabs my hand and leads me into a lingerie shop that’s interior is done up like the boudoir of a French whore. Everything is a wash of soft pinks, white and black. The woman behind the counter looks up from her paperwork as the bell jingles above us, and I half expect her to threaten to call security, but instead she smiles widely and says, “Mr Whitecross, it’s been a long time.”

Whitecross?I mouth at him, but he just smiles and turns his attention back to the woman.

There’s an air about her that I don’t like, and I can’t put my finger on it. I’m sure it’s not the platinum gold hair that’s pulled back into a chignon so tight it practically gives her a facelift, and it’s not the tasteful pencil skirt and crisply pressed linen shirt she wears—it’s the familiarity with which she embraces Tank that has my hackles standing on end. It’s the way she makes me feel: small, and insignificant, with her polished presence alone. I’m threatened by her.But why?Having stuffy bitches look down their noses at me has never bothered me before, but she’s slept with him—I can tell that by their body language, and that irritates me so much I find myself fantasising about leaning over and ripping out her neat coif. Though that would probably just be a huge turn-on for Tank.

“Good to see you, Karina.”

“And who is this?” Karina says, stepping around Tank and offering me her dainty, delicate hand with its perfectly polished fingernails and simple, expensive rings. I can’t help but notice how dry and unkempt my own hands are in comparison. How chipped my black polish is, how jagged and dirty my fingernails are.

“Ivy,” I snap before Tank can introduce us. And when I meet her gaze she’s not looking at me like a bug under her foot, but has kind, patient eyes and her smile, full of perfect white teeth—while annoying—isn’t unfriendly. It’s warm.

Interesting.

“I’m Karina. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ivy,” she says and releases my hand after shaking it twice. “So what brings the two of you in today?”

Tank grins and gives her a look that pretty much says,Do we need to draw you a fuckin’ diagram?For the first time, I realise that the saleswoman is just as nervous, if not more nervous, than I am. “Well obviously you’re here for lingerie for Ivy, but what kind? Are we thinking sexy, comfortable—”

“Sexy. Definitely,” Tank interrupts, and I roll my eyes as he wanders around the store, picking up panties off of tables and stretching the delicate fabrics as if he’s testing their durability and calculating how long it would take to ruin each item.

Karina looks to me for reassurance, and I say, “Whatever he wants. I’m only here for the coffee and free food.”

She raises her brows, as though she hadn’t expected that at all. “Alright then. Let’s get a few things together and try them on, shall we?”

I shrug and turn to a rack of overpriced bras in floral prints. I balk at the price tags on some of the items. I’ve never been showered with lingerie or expensive jewellery. I’ve never been showered with anything that wasn’t bodily fluids, and I appreciate the thought and the expense, but I can’t let him buy me nice things like this. I’m just about to turn and tell him we’re getting the hell out of here when a sheer white lace negligée is dangled before me and Tank whispers, “This. No objections.”

I give the thing an accusatory glare and say, “You really think I’m the virginal type?”

“White doesn’t have to be virginal,” he growls, and I feel like a gazelle, frozen by the weight of the lion’s stare. My body breaks out in goosebumps because his hand at my waist and his warm breath on the back of my neck cause my nipples to harden.

“Does it come in black?” I whisper. I’m afraid of raising my voice because I know it will sound weakened and husky with lust.

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