My face catches fire. “Shop here often, do you?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugs. “Toys are fun, Molly girl.”
He kisses me like he isn’t standing in front of a wall of vibrating cocks, then wanders off, leaving me surrounded by anatomically aggressive silicone that I’m pretty sure would require a medical team for insertion and a whole lot of prayers.
“Right this way, my lovely,” Declan says, already ushering me toward a dressing room.
He pulls the curtain shut behind us.
“Where are the clothes?” My palms start to sweat.
“Turn and face the mirror,” he says. “Panties down. Skirt up. Hands on the glass. Now.”
My heart trips, but I do it. Mainly because I’m a cowardand a deviant and whatever this says about me, I want to see what he’ll do.
I can see the curtain in the mirror. It’s not thick. Light seeps around the edges. Through the gauze, I can see Astra moving around outside. Another shadow joins her. My heart picks up speed. It’s someone else entering the store.
Dammit, if I can see shapes, then they can see?—
“Declan, what about the people?”
“Relax,” he says. His breath is hot against my ear. “No one’s coming in here. They can see it’s occupied.”
“My pussy is throbbing because it’snotprivate,” I hiss.
“Well, they do want to stop people from inserting things back here that they haven’t paid for yet,” he says, mouth curving. “If you want a latex maid outfit, Astra will help you into it. Those require pre-purchase and baby powder. No sampling. No ‘try before you lube,’ so to speak.”
“Then why am I here like?—”
He slaps my ass lightly. The sting arrows straight to my clit. “So I can insert things into you, of course.”
“Insert what?” I demand.
His finger slides into my pussy, slow and sure. “This for starters.”
“Stop,” I moan, even as I push back against his hand.
He grabs something. I hear the click of a cap. Cool lube slicks over my ass.
“You want me to stop for real?” he murmurs.
“No,” I breathe. “You ass.”
“Thought so,” he says, and his finger thrusts deeper. He finds that spot inside, the one that makes my mind white out, and rubs. Pressure and pleasure curl together and I think I’d let him do this to me on the subway platform during rush hour.
“See? The truth’s not so bad, is it, Molly?”
“Fuck you,” I pant.
“I will,” he says. “But you wanted me to fuck your ass, and I need you prepped first.”
“You’re not touching my ass, so how can you be prepping me?”
I swallow a gasp as he pushes a finger into my ass, slipping past the tight ring of muscle. The jolt of sensation is obscene, like sharp bliss screaming along my spine.
“Sometimes I’ll use your own juices,” Declan says conversationally. “Fuck knows you get wet enough. But for the first time, we’re doing it properly.”
My brain fogs.
