Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 88: Shopping 3

The city streets hummed with life, a chaotic symphony of honking cabs, chattering crowds, and the rhythmic clatter of a distant street performer’s drum.

The afternoon’s sun spilled golden light across the pavement, warming the air, thick with the scents of roasted chestnuts and exhaust.

Freya and Kael stepped out on the city streets, her cap pulled low, masking her forehead and eyes, the face mask covered her mouth.

Her white blouse and black jeans hugged her curves, her regenerated skin flawless, no trace of the fight’s bruises, her blue eyes sparkling with a child’s glee at the urban sprawl.

Kael walked beside her, his dark jacket unzipped, his hazel eyes scanning the crowd, alert but softened by her energy.

Freya’s gaze snagged on a street vendor’s stall, a riot of hats—fedora, berets, wide-brimmed sunhats—displayed on a rickety table.

"Kael, look!" she gasped, her voice muffled by the cap’s brim, her hand grabbing his, her strength tugging him forward like a kite pulling its string.

She wove through the crowd, her tall figure cutting a path, Kael stumbling to keep up, a grin tugging his lips at her sudden enthusiasm.

She stopped at the stall, her fingers brushing a white sunhat, its brim soft and wide, a delicate ribbon circling its crown.

She lifted it, settling it on her head, the white contrasting her platinum-cyan hair, which peeked out in shimmering strands, catching the sun like frost.

She turned to Kael, tilting her head, her blue eyes glinting through the cap’s shadow.

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice warm, a queen seeking approval but with a playful edge.

Kael’s grin widened, his hazel eyes tracing her silhouette, the hat framing her like a halo.

"Looks like it was made for you," he said, his tone sincere, a spark of admiration in his gaze. He reached for his wallet, nodding to the vendor, a grizzled man with a gap-toothed smile.

"We’ll take it."

Freya’s lips parted, a protest forming as she adjusted the hat. "Kael, wait—I’ve got my debit card back at my base. We should grab it. I’ve got plenty of money." Her voice was light, but her eyes flickered with a hint of pride, a reminder of her villainous past, where wealth was like a trophy of power.

Kael’s smile twitched, a wry thought crossing his mind—

Why do villains always have so much money?

He shook his head, his tone easy but firm. "It’s fine, Freya. I’ve got this. You can pay me back later."

He handed the vendor a few bills, the transaction swift, and tucked his wallet away, his grin returning as he caught her eye. "Consider it a hero’s advance."

Freya smirked, adjusting the hat, her fingers brushing its ribbon, a quiet thrill in her chest at his gesture.

"Fine, but I’m holding you to that," she said, her voice teasing, and looped her arm through his, pulling him toward the heart of the shopping district, where glass-fronted stores gleamed with promise, mannequins draped in vibrant fabrics.

The crowd thickened, their shoulders brushing strangers, but Freya’s focus was razor-sharp, her excitement infectious as they entered a sprawling department store.

Inside, the air was cool, scented with lavender and new fabric, the hum of pop music underscoring the chatter of shoppers.

Freya moved with purpose, her fingers trailing over racks of clothes—flowy blouses, t-shirts which she got used to lately, fitted pants, loose jeans in shades of black, white, and deep blue, all free-moving, perfect for her fluid grace.

She piled a stack of casuals into a basket, her choices simple and practical, then paused, her blue eyes glinting with a wicked spark.

She grabbed Kael’s hand again, pulling him toward the lingerie section, a corner of the store aglow with satin and lace.

Kael hesitated, his steps slowing, a flush creeping up his neck, but Freya’s voice came low, warm, and sultry through the mask, her breath hot against the fabric.

"Come on, Kael," she purred, holding up a black lace thong, its delicate straps barely there, designed to tease. "What do you think?"

Kael gulped, his hazel eyes flicking from the thong to her masked face, her eyes dancing with amusement.

She dangled a crimson bra next, its cups sheer, embroidered with tiny roses, the underwire promising to lift and provoke.

"Or this?" she asked, stepping closer, her fingers brushing his arm as she showed a pair of emerald-green panties, high-cut, with a lace-up back that screamed seduction.

Each piece was erotic, crafted to ignite, and Freya’s gaze held his, daring him to react.

"Uh, take whatever you want," Kael managed, his voice rough, his throat tight as he fought the heat pooling in his core.

He stepped back, rubbing his neck, his grin strained but amused, trying to keep his cool under her relentless tease.

Freya’s laugh was a soft, throaty hum, and she didn’t push further, tossing her selections into the basket—a haul of dirty, sexy lingerie, the thongs and bras joined by satin chemises and crotchless panties, all in bold blacks, reds, and greens.

She added her casual clothes, a few plush bath towels, and, with a sly grin, a handful of men’s shirts and jeans for Kael—dark tees, loose denim, simple but sharp.

Kael raised a brow, holding up a black tee. "I don’t need new clothes, Freya," he said, his tone half-protesting, half-amused, his hazel eyes narrowing.

She smirked, her voice firm, unyielding through the mask.

"You’re taking them." She shoved him toward the trial room, a curtained booth in the corner, her hands on his back, playful but insistent. "Go try them on."

Kael resisted, planting his feet, but Freya was relentless, pushing him inside, the curtain swishing shut.

She slipped in after him, holding a shirt, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Let me help," she purred, her fingers tugging at his jacket, but Kael laughed, gently shoving her out, his voice firm. "Out, Freya. I’ve got this."

She pouted, her masked lips curving, but retreated, her laughter echoing as she grabbed her own pile of clothes and slipped into the next booth.

Minutes later, her voice came again, sultry, a siren’s call through the curtain.

"Kael, come see," she said, her tone dripping with invitation, the rustle of fabric hinting at her changing.

Kael’s pulse quickened, his hand pausing on the tee he’d just pulled on.

He stepped to her booth, parting the curtain, and froze.

Freya stood in a crimson lace bra and matching thong, the sheer fabric hugging her breasts, the thong’s straps high on her hips, accentuating her curves.

Her platinum-cyan hair spilled over her shoulders, her black mask still on, her blue eyes smoldering as she posed, one hand on her hip, the other beckoning him.

"Like it?" she asked, her voice low, teasing, the air between them electric.

Kael’s breath caught, his body tensing, temptation clawing at him.

He gripped the curtain, his knuckles white, his hazel eyes locked on hers, fighting the urge to step inside.

"Freya," he said, his voice hoarse, a warning to himself as much as her.

Her smile widened, wicked and fearless, and she stepped closer, her fingers grazing his chest, her voice dropping to a whisper through the mask.

"My reward, Kael," she said, her words a velvet blade. "You promised me anything. I want you to fuck me senseless in this trial room."

"What the fuck?"