Corey laughs, a deep bark, as he walks away from his phone. I get a glimpse of a spacious living area, a wall of windows at the far end of the space, and a comfy couch. The ceiling looks pretty high; I wouldn’t besurprised if he lives in one of those mansions on the coast. I’ve always dreamed of living somewhere like that one day.
He comes back into view, and he’s sipping on some water. “You’re really being good with your whole routine, huh?” I ask, nodding toward the water as he drinks.
“Yeah, it would be kind of pointless to put in the work and then sabotage myself in between. Definitely not a lifestyle I could pull off forever,” he mumbles, setting his water down. He picks up his phone, and from the way he falls backward, settles on the couch. “Don’t let this body distract you from the question,” he says.
“Ah, yes. If I could do anything in my life…” I sigh, taking another sip of wine. The question holds such weight, mostly because I’ve been asking myself a variation of that question for most of my life. “What do I want to do?”
“What would make you happy?” Corey adds.
“Honestly, I’m happy right now. Sure, my job can be shit some days, but aren’t all jobs like that?” I tilt my head, mentally categorizing segments of my life. “I have friends who I love and spend time with. They’re really like my family. And I live in an exciting, fun city.”
“But? I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ there.”
“But I wish I could do more. I wish I had a job where I could help people in a meaningful way. More of what I do at the youth center, with the kids.” I glance up at the wall, where I have a little collage of some of my past student’s work, and I feel a tug in my chest. “I guess that’s why I fell into the hospitality industry in the first place. It’s like helping people on a micro level. I want to go macro one day.”
Corey sighs, and murmurs, “You are so incredible, Bex. From what I’ve learned of you, helping people is core to who you are. It’s a beautiful thing.”
Blush spreads across my cheeks and chest again—will I ever stop blushing around this man?! Our conversation continues, mostly Corey asking about my job, my friends, and the youth center. It feels almost domestic, and the earlier feelings of comfort and safety continue to grow as we speak.
“Enough about me,” I finally say. “How is LA? How is work?”
Corey’s smile falters slightly before he says, “Ah, same old shit. My trainer is kicking my ass, but I think it’s paying off. Can you tell?”
He sits up straighter on the couch and flexes; his abs are so chiseled and cut, he must feel like a rock. Even though it’s only been a week, he looks leaner than he did in Vegas. Corey laughs as I continue to stare, my mouth unable to do anything but gape in admiration.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says. “What was that thing you wanted to show me?”
His prompt jerks me out of my gaze. I giggle, setting down my wine and sliding off the bed. “Let me grab it.” I cross the room to my desk, where the matte black package has been sitting for a few days. Carrying it back into view, Corey puts a hand over his eyes, groaning. “Do you know what this is? Ally and Britney ordered it for me after they met you at the club. I thought they were kidding, but apparently not…”
Corey drops his hand and scoots closer to the edge of the couch toward his phone. “Why don’t you tell me?” He smirks, and I know he knows. He just wants to hear me say it.
Heat coils low in my belly. “Well, I haven’t opened it yet,” I say. His brows raise as if in question. “Because if it’s what I think it is… I’d rather wait for the real thing.”
The smirk vanishes from his face, and he leans even closer to his phone. “Tell me what you think it is, Bex,” he says, the gravelly tone to his voice twisting that heat in my belly into knots.
“Is this a Frank Moro-shaped dildo?” I ask, biting my lip.
Corey nods, his gaze hooded and hungry. “I recognize the packaging from my online store,” he says darkly. “You promise you’ve been a good girl? You haven’t peeked yet?”
I shake my head, the twisted heat in my belly spreading throughout my body at his words of praise. “No, sir,” I say. I’m not sure why I say it, but it feels right, and seeing the immediate effect the words have on Corey has me clenching my thighs together.
“Bex,” he says my name almost reverently. “You have no idea how hard I am right now, hearing you say that.”
I swallow hard and set the box aside. Screw waiting to see it in person. “Show me,” I say.
Corey moans, throwing his head back against the couch. “Fuck, Bex.” His hands are on his thighs, his fingers digging into the fabric of his sweatpants. He sits up and leans forward again. “If I take my cock out…” He sighs, as if wrestling for the right words to say. “If I do this, I’m gonna give you a show.”
Unable to contain myself, I let out a whimper. “Yes, please.”
“On one condition.” The smirk is back on his face, but this time it’s wicked, teasing.
“Anything,” I say quickly, breathlessly.
Corey tilts his head. “I’ll give you a show, but you just watch. Keep that sexy lounge set on and don’t touch yourself.”
I’m nodding before he even finishes. “Easy.”
“Hmmm,” he says, shifting back on the couch, making himself more comfortable. “We’ll see about that.” Corey slowly runs a hand down his chest, over his abs, down to where his sweatpants are tented with his arousal. His heated gaze remains on me the entire time as he rubs himself through his sweatpants. “You ready for the show, baby?”
