34
“What in the ever-loving f**k are you wearing?” Loki snapped, his eyes slitted in warning. Abby had sauntered out of her bedroom dressed as—get this—a f*****g fairy. His pixie girl was wearing a cocktease of a fairy outfit. Which was fitting. His c**k was hard as a goddamn pike and Sage thought he would accompany her to the club, filled to the brim with drunken assholes so she could party? Think again, lady. He could hardly keep his hands off her plum-shaped a*s as it was, these past twenty days. Twenty. f*****g. Days. f**k him, how did he know it was twenty days? Because he was COUNTING.
But, this? This was going too far. The flirty, short-as-hell skirt she was wearing scarcely covered her p***y. Top it off, he could see her lacy, white b*a beneath her frilly, sheer f**k-me fairy top
