Darcy takes my hand and, using some tablecloth trick, I help her lower into the tub and pull her towel away without seeing anything. “I’ll go get you some clothes to change into.”
“Thanks,” comes from behind the shower curtain.
I find a t-shirt and shorts pretty easily, but the inevitability of digging in her underwear drawer becomes apparent. It is absolutely none of my business what Darcy wears under her clothes, and I’m perfectly capable of being cool about this. I’ll just stick my hand in there and take whatever comes out first.
I plunge my hand inside the drawer, grabbing a soft piece of cloth and something hard and plastic. I open my hand to find a barely-there powder blue thong. Strings with a triangle to cover what’s probably the most wonderful pussy the world has ever known.
But the plastic thing. It’s like a naughty oyster or clam or something—at least, I assume it’s naughty. What other plastic thing do women keep in their underwear drawers?
I shouldn’t look. I really shouldn’t look. But my hands have a mind of their own, opening the clamshell lid to find a U-shaped contraption. I pull it out to examine it because, again, my hands do whatever they want apparently?
And while I’m doing that, it starts to buzz.
I am not breathing.
Yes, I was 100% being a pest when I gave Darcy shit about her vibrator. I did not expect to meet it today.
“Everything okay out there?” Darcy asks.
When I try to turn it off, the other end starts whirring.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I chant under my breath.
“Jake?” Darcy asks, amusement in her tone. My face is so boiling hot you could fry an egg on it.
“Do you need to get off?” I ask, sweat beading at my brow. “I mean out? Do you need to get out?”
“Nope,” she sings in just the most contented tone you could imagine. “Happy as a clam. This feels good.”
Please, God, don’t let her talk about anything feeling good right now. And clam?! Are you joking? A frantic laugh bubbles out of me.
“Jake, are you snooping?” Darcy sounds so entertained.
“No!” I squeak out. Why is this happening to me? At me? And why won’t this fucking thing turn off? This is what I get for teasing her about this vibrator. Should I just stomp on it until it dies and own up to it, I don’t know, on my last day of work, then leave forever and just mail her a replacement? That seems like the best solution right now.
“It’s the middle button, cowboy.”
Oh. My. God. I’m going to puke. Wither. Die. Explode. Stormy watches me from her perch on Darcy’s bed, looking exceedingly bored. I saved the damn cat, now would be a great time for her to save me.
Darcy’s right, and the middle button does shut the damn thing off. I slam it back into the case, fumble it into the drawer with a telltale plastic clunk, and slide the drawer shut, which has the audacity to let out a loud squeal.
“Fuck me,” I mumble.
“I’m a little too sick to do that today, cowboy. Hope you can understand.”
Her fucking mouth. If I weren’t so embarrassed, I’d be thinking about making that mouth do all sorts of other things. But how can I think about things like that when I’m the fucking perv who’s digging through her masturbation tool collection without her permission?
I have to face the music. I sigh out a hysterical breath, grit my teeth, and go back into the bathroom, tossing her clothes onto the toilet lid and clearing my throat. “Do you need help getting out or would you rather I go make your lunch?”
She doesn’t say anything, so I have to look at her. Just her head and arm poke around the shower curtain, both resting on the tub’s rim. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth with the most vicious grin. “Find anything interesting?”
I swallow sawdust in a desert-dry mouth, my pulse surely visible in my throat. “Do you like grilled cheese?”
Darcy is so very amused with herself as she smirks up at me. “Sure.”
I’m too rattled to deal with her shit. “Sure, you like it? Or sure, you don’t care?”
I can’t fucking do this. She’s got mischievous eyes and the fucking curve of her breast is visible at the edge of the shower curtain. My dick already feels like it’s in an inappropriate state of hardness, and with that smirk and her fucking with me, I just—ugh.
