I open one eye and stare at the ceiling.
There it isagain.
Is that human?
A drawn-out cry vibrates through the floorboards, landing somewhere in the gray area between pain and something much more provocative. I sit up, squinting into the dark, wondering if I’m finally hallucinating from sleep deprivation.
There’s another moan, but it’s longer this time.
I rub a hand down my face and listen.
The next sound goes on and on and on and on.
Is she alright?
Is she crying for help?
There’s a beat of silence when I almost reach for my phone, but then the cries are quiet for a second, and I hear the buzzing.
No, not buzzing. That’s a goddamn engine.
Everything clicks into place.
I drop my head back against the pillow.
Fucking hell.
It’s that toy.
My dick twitches. I glare down at it in the dark.
Not helpful. Not helpful at all.
Closing my eyes, I try to focus on something else.
Paperwork.
Blood test results.
Blood. That usually does the trick.
Nope. Not tonight. Because now that I know what I’m listening to, all the blood in my body is heading south of my waist. I shift under the covers and try to adjust, but the fabric is too thin, and I’m too fucking turned on for a man who just wanted to die for six hours.
I kick the blanket off and throw my legs over the edge of the bed.
This is ridiculous.
I pull on sweats and trainers, but when I get to myfront door, I force myself to breathe. She’s going to stop any second. She has to.
Her cries reach an ear-piercing pitch, and my cock throbs in a frantic, demanding rhythm. I look down at my crotch. “Stop that.”
With one final, jagged moan, the sound fades into blissful silence.
Thank fu—
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
I look down at the floor and shout, “You’re going to blow your back out!”
