“I was hoping to win,” I admit, reaching inside my tux once more. This time, I pull out a slim, matte-black case no bigger than a pair of sunglasses.
Eve’s brow arches, instantly suspicious. “You pack light.”
I slide it across the table to her. “I’m a man of priorities.”
She pops the latch and lifts the lid, and her smile widens.
Inside, nestled in foam padding: two sleek, rose-gold toys. One slim and curved, the other more substantial with dual-stimulation points.
She lifts the vaginal toy with gloved fingers, examining it with clinical calm. The anal plug stays untouched because she knows who that one is for.
“Nothing like a charity gala with the rich and famous,” she muses, “without a little voyeurism, I suppose.”
“Exactly my thoughts,” I murmur, taking the toy from her hands and setting the case aside.
“This game,” I say, tearing open a discreet lube packet from the corner compartment, “is calledCan Grant Find Who Has the Remote?”
Eve chuckles low in her throat, unbothered—aroused by the danger of it all. Her eyes are already heating with anticipation.
“So, this is why you tortured me with wearing panties tonight.” Eve’s gleam is just as dark as mine.
The toy is beautifully designed—curved to hit the G-spot with precision, the external suction piece shaped like the whisper of a kiss. Expensive. Remote-controlled. Fully rechargeable. Waterproof—though I doubt we’ll need that feature tonight.
I apply the lube with practiced fingers, coating the smooth silicone while she watches me work.
Then I glance up, voice low. Coy.
“May I?”
Her lips curl at the corner. “Be my guest.”
I step in closer.
The high poker table shields us from view, leaving just the upper half of our bodies visible to the rest of the room.
She shifts just slightly, angling her hip toward me in quiet invitation—and I take it.
With one hand, I slip the toy beneath the delicate lace band of her panties, the other holding my bourbon steady on the table. The bulb meant for her G-spot rubs against her clit first, letting me smear the lube I just applied across her slickening skin.
On the table, my phone’s already open—screen aglow with the app I synced earlier.
One press, and the toy purrs to life.
Eve’s inhale is sharp but controlled. Her lashes flutter, eyes falling shut for a single second as I work the toy against her with slow, deliberate precision.
I keep her just on the edge.
The moment her thighs start to tense, I kill the vibration.
She opens her eyes and glares at me.
I smirk. “We’re going to have fun.”
Sliding the toy fully into place, I take my time adjusting it so the curve sits flush inside her, right where it needs to be. My knuckles graze heat and silk. She clenches down on instinct, breath shaky.
Then—another press of my thumb turns it on again.
Her body shudders so slightly it’s almost imperceptible.
