The bag he lifts is emblazoned with the logo of an adult toy store in town and my cheeks flame from that alone.
He reaches inside, pulling out a vibrator that’s already been freed from its plastic prison. It’s a rabbit, one side fat and sculpted, six inches long. The other small, more than an inch but less than two. Both misshapen ears excited to meet and make new friends.
“You can’t be in here,” I repeat in my quietest voice, feeling like I’ve been spun off the planet into the sun. “It was one time. That was the deal.”
He’s going. He’ll be gone tomorrow. Let him have his fun.
And how much of that voice is fashioned out of the glow of my arousal instead of the logic centres of my brain? Who knows? I don’t. It’s not something I’m about to examine.
“I renegotiated without you,” he says, smirking as he sees my hips twitch upward, pulling towards him. “One last taste for the road.”
He slithers towards me, moving with such glacial slowness that I want to scream.
But he’s right. Rowena’s next door. The walls are thin.
And how the fuck does he know that?
A good point that slips out of touch as the fear of his sudden arrival entwines with the lust spiralling out from my core.
CHAPTERSEVEN
SEB
I didn’t expecther to submit so easily. There’s a flushed glow to her cheeks, a sheen in those glacial eyes, that tells me she was just about ready to come.
When I knocked, I thought I’d pop inside, embarrass the shit out of her for a few minutes, then escape again. Leaving the big reveal for tomorrow, content for the moment to listen through the walls and use the audio as my own wanking aid.
But she folded onto the bed like she’s been waiting for someone to turn up and take control. She bites her lips to keep silent rather than screaming for help at the top of her lungs. Not wanting anyone to interfere.
It’s a green light to every filthy thought running through my mind.
After locking the door to stop any unwelcome visitors, I turn back in time to see her stiff legs loosen, her thighs falling apart.
Those shorts. God, she drives me crazy. Their length hits below her knees and still make her look sexier than any cut-offs could, though I’m happy to be proven wrong.
Then all those thoughts leave my brain as Esme’s hips gently pump upward. Like pressing a reset switch, my mind empties of everything but the rage-inducing beauty before me. Even with my tee loose, hanging over my sweatpants, my erection juts out for anyone to see.
For her to see.
The way she fixes on it, teeth nibbling at her lower lip, leaves me in no doubt to what she wants.
But I’m not some joy-boy for her to whip out on command. I hold up the bag, watching her eyes devour the logo, then bring out her treat. I haven’t charged it yet but a long press on the button still brings it into life. God bless the thoughtfulness of a toy factory that sends its goods already charged.
I sidle closer and she shivers into life, mumbling, “Turn the light off.” The words are softened by the alcohol on her breath. “I don’t want to see you.”
Harsh but my stomach flutters at the thought of finding her in the dark, of using her supple body for whatever I want without leaving the trace of her imprinted on the back of my eyes.
Just the feel, the sound, the taste of her. I flip the switch.
The rooms are internal; the only natural light from a circular skylight in the bathroom, barely enough to make out the edges of the furniture. With the toy buzzing in my hand, I advance on her, straddling her ankles, pulling at the fly of her shorts, dragging the zipper down just an inch, just enough to thrust the toy inside.
And with my vision muted, I want to feel how she reacts. I stretch out next to her, my feet dangling from the edge of the bed, controlling the reach of the toy as one ear plunges inside her, the other buzzing hard against her clit.
She convulses so quickly, the taste of disappointment floods my mouth, sour and thick. But I hold the toy inside her, thumbing up the speed even as her hands try to push me away, too much, too soon for the nerves that are still humming from the last traces of her orgasm.
Her first orgasm. Not her last.
The hands become less protesting as the minutes pass, as I thrust the bulbous, overgrown, sad replacement for my dick in and out of her, occasionally twisting so the vibrator moves away from her clit, extending out the tease.
