don't know how to end an argument with your boyfriend? flash him your tits!
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In truth, you would've already forgotten the reason why your boyfriend was mad in the first place if he wouldn't keep bringing it up. All you really do know is that you just want to end the night after a cute date by going to bed and cuddling with him, face nuzzled into his big hairy chest and completely cozy.
"I'm just saying he didn't draw hearts on my cup," Robby stresses for about the tenth time tonight.
"Oh my god!" you laugh, giving him an incredulous eye roll from your seat at the vanity, finishing taking off your makeup. "It's company policy for Starbucks baristas to just doodle random shit on their cups."
"Did it have to be hearts, though?" Oh, your handsome, sweet, stupid man and his stupid jealousy was going to be the death of you someday.
"I don't know!" you huff, getting up to throw away the makeup wipes and start changing into your pajamas. The grumbles and pouting had been cute earlier while you enjoyed your caramel frappe and fed some to Robby while he drove, but now he was starting to irritate you. "I'll let them know next time that my boyfriend's the one who likes heart shapes on his coffee cup."
"It's not about the hearts!" he scowls. "It's the principle."
You turn to glower at him, but before you can really get too annoyed with Robby, an idea strikes. You've seen a few videos online of other girls trying it, so why not give it a shot, too?
Robby's still talking when you begin toying with the hem of your tank top and eventually start to lift it over your belly button. His voice falters halfway through a sentence once he spots what you're doing, and your eyes crinkle when you see how his nostrils flare and his eyes narrow.
You only continue staring at Robby while his cheeks begin to flush and he starts to pointedly keep his eyes on yours, your pout slowly tugging away into an impish smirk, batting your lashes just as a cherry on top.
"You can't just…" Robby grits, face slowly growing redder by the second. "Stop it."
"Stop what?" you say innocently.
And you have the nerve to tilt your head, like you don't know what, you fucking brat—
"Yes, you fucking do," he snarls. You giggle, continuing to slowly drag your tank top over your chest, every inch revealing even more than the last. "Drop the attitude. And the shirt."
"Okay!" you squeal, grinning and pulling the thin fabric over your head, throwing it at Robby's chest. Your tits are free from their confinement, and you bite your lip at him while they bounce against your chest. Robby could cum from the sight of your nipples alone and he thinks that's what pisses him off the most about the situation. Because you know that. "Like this?"
You're bent over the edge of the bed in a matter of seconds, and your delighted moan from the feeling of his stiff cock behind his jeans rubbing against your ass is muffled by the pillow your face is buried into.
"Ohoho, you are in big trouble, little girl," he huffs against your ear. You pull your head up from the bed and look back to give him a dazed grin.
Your squeal rings out through the bedroom when his palm cracks against your ass.