“Well, if you ask me, it’s a stupid idea, but if it’ll make you happy, I’ll go along with it.”
“Thank you. I’ll get Amber to look into it first thing Monday.”
It’s mid-afternoon by the time we leave Grayson’s family home. His mom insisted we stay for lunch. I love his family. Being around them today brought back a lot of old memories. I spent so much time with them growing up. His life was tough, but I still envied him at times.
I don’t doubt my parents love me, but we’ve never had a close family bond. I spent more time with their staff than I did with them.
I wanted what he had.
Pulling out my phone, I check to see if there’s any word from Emma. I’m disappointed when I see there isn’t.
I type out a message hoping to get a reply, even if it’s a shitty one. Any interaction from her is better than none at all.
Grayson’s right, I do have it bad.
My ridiculously hot friend: Just being a good friend and checking in to see how you’re feeling, especially after the unfortunate loss you suffered last night.
I laugh to myself when I press send. It’s childish and preposterous, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying our banter.
“What’s so funny?” Grayson asks.
I see three dots dancing on the screen, and it excites me.
“I’m just texting Emma. I stole her vibrator last night and then ran over it with my car.”
“You did what?”
Before I get a chance to answer him, her text comes through.
I hold my hand up to him while I read her message.
Sweet-thing: You know what they say, easy come easy go. I’ve moved on already.
Her reply surprises me.
My ridiculously hot friend: Glad to hear that. You know I’m here if you need me. ;)
Sweet-thing: Thanks for the offer, but I made a detour on the way home from the shelter and took care of it.
What the hell does that even mean? My fingers move a hundred miles an hour as I type a reply.
My ridiculously hot friend: What the fuck, Emma!!!!
Sweet-thing: Meet my new friend… his name is Elijah.
She attaches an image of a large black, eight-inch silicone cock. It immediately gets my back up. Surely, she’s just fucking with me. She probably got that image off Google just to piss me off. Yeah, that’s exactly what she did.
My ridiculously hot friend: Nice try. That’s not yours.
Sweet-thing: Yeah it is. What’s that saying again… once you go black you never go back? ;)
She attaches a screenshot of a receipt.
Pleasure Island.
18426 Hawthorne Blvd.
Torrance.
It has today’s date on it. Fuck!
My ridiculously hot friend: I forbid you to use that. Your orgasms belong to me, remember?
Sweet-thing: You don’t own me or my orgasms Mr. Bossy-boots. Besides, you’re too late. I’m taking him for a test run right now. Oh God, he feels sooo good! *insert moaning here.
My ridiculously hot friend: You better be fucking with me right now.
Sweet-thing: Actually, I’m fucking Elijah. Haven’t you been paying attention?
My good mood dissipates instantly. I’m going to implode, especially once I read the next message.
Sweet-thing: “Oh, that’s it, big-boy, just like that. Give it to me harder. Yes… God, yes, that feels so good.”
Her reply may infuriate me, but my cock goes rock hard. I want to hear her scream exactly that while I’m buried deep inside her.
I’m positive she’s messing with me. Can you even text and rub one out at the same time? I doubt it.
I dial her number and growl with frustrations when it goes straight to voicemail.
“Fuck.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhale a long breath as I try to calm myself.
I’m pitiful.
I’m raging over a woman and her sex toy.
“What?” Grayson asks. “Is every okay?”
“No, everything’s shit.”
“Why?”
“Emma bought another vibrator, and she’s testing it out as we speak.”
He throws back his head and roars with laughter.
Prick.
“Touché, Red, touché,” he says.
Chapter Twelve
EMMA
“This is so much fun,” Carla squeals, handing me back my phone. I gasp the moment I read her reply. “Oh, that’s it, big-boy, just like that. Give it to me harder. Yes… God, yes, that feels so good.”
“Jesus, Carla.” I feel my cheeks heat. “You didn’t?”
The smile on her face grows. “I so did.”
I jump when my phone rings. I swear my heart stops beating when I see, ‘My ridiculously hot friend,’ flashing on the screen.
“Shit, he’s calling me.”
“Send it to voicemail.”
My hands are shaking as I quickly do just that. I place my phone on the table, burying my face in my hands. How did I get myself into this mess? I should’ve never stopped off and bought another vibrator. I only did it because I was angry with him. He had no right to invade my privacy or demand that he owns all my future orgasms. Although there’s something very appealing about that prospect.
My phone starts ringing again, and Carla laughs as she reaches across, sending it to voicemail once more. Seconds later, another text comes through.
My ridiculously hot friend: I demand you answer my calls, Emma! I’m not joking.
Where does he get off bossing me around like that?
“Ignore him,” Carla says.
A minute later, another message comes through.
My ridiculously hot friend: Fine, you want to play it like that. I’m coming over.
“Shit, he’s on his way to our building.”
Carla laughs. “Well, he’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”
Luckily I’m not at my apartment. After stopping off at the adult store, which was horrendous, I might add—the first and last time I ever do something so brash—I met up with Carla for a late lunch before she heads to work. She’s doing an all-nighter at the bar and will sleep most of tomorrow.
My stomach churns as the waitress comes over to take our order. What if he’s still there, waiting for me when I get home?
“I’ll have a double cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate shake,” Carla says.
Hmm, that sounds yummy, but I can’t have the same. That one meal alone far exceeds my entire calorie count for the day. It’s Saturday, but not Sinful-Saturday.
The waitress turns her attention to me. I glance at the menu in front of me, even though I already know what I’m ordering. “I’ll have a chicken caesar salad, please… oh, and a diet coke.”
I blow out a puff of air when the waitress walks away. “What am I going to do, Car?”
“Do you want my honest opinion?”