Page 107

I head out to meet Amelia. From across the resort, I spot her perched on a barstool. She waves, beckoning me over. I cut across the lawn but pause in midstride when Gio’s first vibrations of the afternoon strike. I almost wobble out of my new shoes when it happens.

When the tantalizing buzz relents, I glance around. As far as I can tell, no one is looking. No one has noticed anything.

“Not too bad.” I regain my composure, smooth my hair, and continue.

Maybe Gio will go easy on me.

Except another round strikes seconds later. This time, I stop in my tracks, squeeze my thighs tight, and pretend to look at my phone. I place a hand over my mouth and wince as vibrations reawaken my pussy, giving me naughty thoughts of Gio and our time together this morning.

Oh God!

My brow furrows as I hold my breath, but that doesn’t stop the floodgates from releasing downtown. My muscles squeeze tighter and blood pulses south. If I were home, I’d sit down and enjoy the ride.

When the buzzing stops this time, I gasp for air.

“It’ll, uh,” I breathe in through my nose, “be,” release it out of my mouth, “fine,” I say and repeat the breathing exercises.

Realizing this isn’t going to be as easy as I thought, I move a little faster, wanting to find my seat before the next assault. At least then, there’s no chance of face-planting on the lawn in orgasmic rapture.

I hope.

“How was work?” I ask Amelia and give her a hug.

She’s in partial costume: a seashell bra, pearl crown, purple bejeweled wig, and matching bikini bottoms. Her sparkly mermaid tail is laid out on a pool lounger nearby.

“Are you okay?” She eyes me but gets distracted and asks, “Wait, are those new shoes?”

“A present from Gio.” I dig my toe into the ground and twist my foot to model all the sides.

I expect her to gush, but instead, she narrows her eyes. “Something is off with you.”

“I’m fine,” I say but can’t hold back a giggle when the buzz starts again. I quickly lift my leg and slide onto the stool beside her. When I do, though, the vibrating nub slips closer to my clit.

“Ohhh.” I shudder and then hum a tone people make when they need to drown out the world around them.

Okay. So, sitting makes it worse. Or better, depending how you look at it. Oh my God! Can she hear the buzz? Can other people?

I drop my face into my palms to hide. I inhale deeply from inside my protective dome as my face heats. Intense vibrations zing through my clit and straight out my hardened nipples. Their points beam like daggers. Daggers I might kill someone with later.

Breaking news. Giovanni Salami, internet-famous chef daddy, was stabbed to death by knife-piercing nipples wielded by a Pink Ladies gang member known as Hell Kitten.

“Sophia?” Amelia places a hand on my shoulder.

I lean into her obvious concern. Appearing sick may be the only explanation that makes sense.

“I’m feeling . . . uh . . . a little . . .” I scrunch my face as if that will stop me from coming. Every unnatural whimper I release makes pretending harder.

Right when I’m about to let loose regardless of who sees, the buzz abruptly stops. I release a puff of air, drop my palms, and turn to Amelia, spitting out the word I couldn’t earlier.

“. . . overstimulated!”

Her brows crinkle. “You feel . . . overstimulated?” She blinks.

“That’s the only way I can describe it.” I giggle now, realizing what this is. Gio is going to edge me into oblivion.

I wasn’t prepared for how good it would feel. So, now I don’t know how to act, because I’m turned on by our shared secret. I wet my lips, unable to contain the oncoming smile.

“Your face is very red. Scary red. Blood red,” she says.