"Damn, those hips don't lie," a voice oozed at her ear.
Thick hands suddenly grabbed her waist from behind, squeezing like he owned her.
"Shit," the man growled, breath hot and vulgar. "You're built like a f***ing pornstar."
His hands sank into the plush curve of her hips, fingers disappearing into flesh barely contained by her skirt. He tried to pull her in—failed. Her thick thighs and anchored stance made her feel immovable, like a statue carved from temptation.
"Goddamn," he muttered, groping greedily. "You soft all over, huh?"
Aiko didn't blink. She turned her head just slightly—enough to see a tank-top-wearing musclehead grinning down at her, biceps flexed like he expected a round of applause. His eyes dragged down her chest.
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you finished?"
Her fingers curled around a can of tomatoes in her cart.
"You've got three seconds to move your hands," she said flatly, "before they find your teeth in the cereal aisle."
He blinked. Then smirked. "The f*** you just—"
CRACK.
He staggered, blood gushing from his nose.
But he laughed—loud and ugly. "Oh, feisty. I like that."
One of his hands slid lower, grabbing a full handful of her ass, fingers digging in shamelessly.
"How much for an hour with this?"
Aiko's eyes flicked to the corner of the aisle. There are surveillance cameras, she thought. Is he actually this dumb?But then she noticed the angle—he was positioned just right, using his back to shield the act.
Not dumb huh
"You couldn't afford me," she murmured, shocked of his shamelessness.
"Try me." He leaned in, breath sour with drugstore cologne and cheap bravado. "I'll pay double your usual rate."
Her smile was cold enough to frost glass. She let him press her against the shelf, let his pulse jump when her nails raked lightly down his chest.
"You want to treat me like a whore?" she asked, voice velvet and venom. Her fingers dipped just into his waistband—enough to make his hips twitch. "Then act like a client. Negotiate."
Aiko thought for a moment.
She wasn't above taking his money. If she had to endure his existence, she might as well profit from it.
She leaned in just enough for him to feel the heat of her breath at his jaw.
"One hundred thousand yen," she said smoothly, each word deliberates. "And cover my cart."
He blinked. "For what?"
She smiled, slow and wicked. "For my mouth. Only my mouth."
His grin twitched. "You serious?"
"Very."
"No pussy?"
"No fingers. No tongue. No fucking," she said, ticking them off like items on a list. "Mouth only. You don't even get to touch me unless I say so."
His face darkened with something feral. "That's a hell of a price for a blowj—"
"Take it," she interrupted, her thumb brushing over his fly, "or leave it."
The man blinked. Then burst out laughing. "You serious? I could get five girls for that price."
Aiko shrugged and turned to leave. "Then go get them."
He stepped in front of the cart, caging her in. His hands slammed onto the handlebar, muscle flexing. His knee nudged between her thighs, denim scraping the soft skin above her socks.
"What if I want the full service?" he growled.
"I don't fuck," she said flatly.
"Everyone fucks for the right price," he muttered, trailing fingers up her inner thigh.
"No." Her voice was ice. "Mouth only. 100,000 yen. Pay for my cart. That's the deal."
His hand shot up, gripping her chin roughly, forcing her gaze downward—toward the bulge in his jeans.
"You're telling me you won't even consider it?"
Aiko met his gaze, unflinching. "I told you once," she said, her voice like frostbite, "take it, or leave it.".
The man—Takashi, as his gaudy gold necklace declared—bared his teeth in a smirk, sweat already glistening on his temples. His fingers flexed around Aiko's wrist, thick and rough like a butcher's grip.
"100,000 yen, huh?" he sneered, breath hot with cheap whiskey from his lunch break. "Better be the best damn mouth I've ever had."
Aiko didn't pull away. She just let her gaze drop to where his free hand was already palming himself through his jeans, shamelessly adjusting the bulge for her to see. Predictable.
"Payment first," she said, voice flat.
Takashi barked out a laugh and dug into his wallet, peeling off crisp bills with deliberate slowness, watching her face for a reaction. When she didn't give him one, he shoved the money into her blazer pocket—letting his fingers linger too long, brushing against the curve of her breast. "There, princess. Now let's see if you're worth it."