Jagger sits back and considers my question. “I thought she was too delicate. Now, I know it’s a lie.”
It’s crazy how we change or compromise parts of who we are for the sake of a relationship. If she acted ‘delicate’ what in the hell were they doing?
“How was that going to work long term? I know you were exclusive to her for years, but how much longer did you think you’d go without all of this?”
I motion to the array of toys.
He merely shrugs again. “For as long as I chose to love her. I love this stuff but do not need it. I’m fine with doing whatever makes my woman comfortable.”
He’s so...he’s just...ugh. I don’t know how to express it. He’s Jagger and he makes me want to do it all to please him. Almost everything.
“So, if I said send it back, you would.”
Jagger snickers and shakes his head. “Sure, but you won’t. Your pussy is wet just looking at this stuff.”
“Fine, I’m down for almost everything at least once.”
He looks up from examining one of the toys. “That’s my girl.”
I watch him sort through an assortment of lubes, vibrators, bondage items, cock rings, and nipple clamps. I reach for a box but Jagger plucks it out of my hand.
“You’ll learn about that one later.”
I grab a slightly curved toy. “What’s this?”
“A male anal toy for prostate simulation. It’s one of the mystery items.”
“Ah, so you don’t like prostate stimulation?”
“Yeah.” He smiles up at me. “Are you about to do it?”
I shrug and grab the toy. But he takes it from my hand.
“What?” I ask him.
“Not with that.” I reach in and grab the anal beads. “Nope. Those are for you.”
“Then what do you want me to use, then?”
He looks at me like I’m slow. “You’d just use your finger.”
I pick up my hands with my palms facing me and wave my fingers so he can see the diamonds glittering on my manicure.
“You’d prefer these nails over a hypoallergenic toy designed for such things in your ass?”
Jagger runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m saying I don’t put toys in my ass.”
“Looks like there’s only one option.”
“You getting rid of those ridiculously girly ass nails?”
“No. You have to do it to yourself.” He snickers and picks up a clipboard I didn’t see before. “What’s that for.”
“Inventory.”
“Of course you’d have an inventory sheet.”
He marks something but doesn’t look up. “Go take your shower, stinky. I should be done by then.”
