“I’ll have a cafe latte.”
“No please or thank you?” I retorted, staring stonily at him.
His top lip twitched as he passed me a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change. That’s ‘thank you’ enough.” When I took the note, his other hand shot out. “Use the bathroom and insert this.”
My body tensed at the strange object he passed me, but though I practically lived like a nun, that didn’t mean I was stupid.
“Would you like me to stick a dildo inside me before or after I serve you coffee?” I snarled at him, aware that my cheeks made a beet look insipid in color.
“Before.” He smirked at me. “Don’t be long.”
I glowered at him and took a look at the thing. It was bright pink, had a ‘C’ shape that was thick at one end, and had a kind of tab on the other, which, I assumed, sat on my clit.
It looked like a spermatozoon had gotten high on LSD and had ingested a crap ton of cherry Kool-Aid.
Mouth tightening, I shot him a look, saw that wicked glint in his eye that I was coming to learn spoke of his amusement, and with a huff, turned on my heel and retreated to the bathroom.
On my way there, I kept my back to him and questioned, “Watch the storefront?” I was supposed to lock the door when I was ‘alone’ and needed to use the restroom.
“Of course.”
I nodded and headed on to the bathroom.
Was I irritated that he hadn’t asked me why I’d been crying? Yeah, I figured I was. But also, whatever he was doing with me wasn’t about him caring about how I felt, and I got that.
Still, the situation presented me with an issue.
I was drier than toast and no way was that thing going inside me in my current frame of mind.
Plunking the toilet seat down after spraying it with the disinfectant bottle there, I wondered how the hell I was going to do as he asked. The last thing I wanted was that thing inside me, but staring at it like it knew the answer to world peace wasn’t going to get me anywhere.
Realizing I needed to clean it, I got up, headed back out of the stall and to the sinks. Washing the toy with the liquid soap, I dried it off with a paper towel, stared at it, then looked at myself and whispered, “How the fuck did this even happen?”
Shaking my head, I retreated to the stall once more, dropped my pants to knee-height, and tried to think about sex. The good stuff. Ya know, the stuff I hadn’t had.
Seriously, I’d had more orgasms with Professor Maclean glowering at me than I ever had. I’d never had a penetrative orgasm, and the two experiences I’d had, had been with a boyfriend who’d ended up in jail for eight years on a grand larceny charge—apparently, I had shitty taste like my mother.
“Okay, thinking about Shawn isn’t going to get you wet,” I muttered, so I did what had worked for me last night.
I thought of Maclean’s stern features, of the tic in his jaw, the vein that pulsed in his temple. I thought of that bitterly snarled mouth and those eyes that could make me burn with both fire and ice.
Like that, I felt it.
Heat.
In my belly.
I released a shuddery breath and slipped my hand between my legs. I was wet, not like the Niagara Falls or anything, but enough to work this thing inside me.
As I leaned against the bathroom door, my head cushioned by my forearm, I touched myself, tried to get wetter, and only thinking about the schmuck tormenting me worked.
Christ, I needed more than a therapist, I needed to be tossed in the local asylum.
With the hot pink vibrator inside me, I got myself fixed up and went to wash my hands. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I wondered what he saw when he looked back at me.
My hair was wavy, thick and lustrous—probably my best feature. It was a dark brown and it complimented my skin tone, which was a warm olive. My eyes were green and, at the moment, they sparkled. Same went with my cheeks—they were bright pink from what I’d just been doing.
As I stared at myself in the dowdy uniform, with the black cap that shielded my forehead, and the apron that made me look frumpy, I wondered what on Earth he was getting out of this.
He looked like that, and I looked like this.
We were worlds apart.
I mean, last night, I’d seen those chicks on the dance floor eying him up like they were piranhas and he was a fresh meal. But not once had he looked their way. Not once had he gotten up to dance.
Gnawing on the inside of my lip, I shrugged off thoughts of how drab I was, how he had to be doing this for some kind of joke, and as I sucked down a sharp breath to spur me on, I headed for the door.
The second it was open, the vibrator turned on.
Even though I’d suspected as much, it still came as a surprise. A startled and breathy, “Oh,” escaped my lips and I stared blankly at nothing as I felt the low-lying vibrations pulsing through my sex.
Unable to bear it, I clenched my eyes at the same time as I bore down on the toy, and when that happened, my face rearranged itself as the painful pleasure hit me.
It wasn’t an orgasm, but Jesus, it was close.
The thought spurred me on and I realized I needed to make his coffee. I was a little brain-dead as I worked, making him his drink all while staring blindly into space when he messed with the different vibrations. He’d surge them up, then lower it to almost nothing.
The bitch of it was, the nothing hurt more than the whole-heap-of-something.
When I grabbed his drink, I hurried over to his seat, thankful he’d turned down the vibrations as I carried the hot coffee over to him, and whispered, “Here you go.”
He grunted when his gaze flickered from his laptop to the beverage I’d set down before him. “I didn’t ask for a cappuccino.” He tsked. “Get me my latte.”
His commanding tone got my back up, and I racked my brain, trying to think about his order but it was no good. I didn’t remember.
I picked up the coffee cup, but he grabbed my wrist. “Leave it.” With his other hand, he shoved a five-dollar bill at me. “Go and get the latte.”
Dazed when, with my first step away, the vibrations surged higher, I felt the tremor all the way to my bones. Shuddering a little, I carried on walking, aware that he was watching me the whole time. Not just as I stepped away from him, but as I made his drink.
When I returned with the latte, he was polite. “Thank you.” I nodded, intent on returning to my duties, but he murmured, “Take a seat.”
In time to that demand, he sent the vibrations soaring high. Higher than before. So high, my knees buckled and I settled into the booth with relief.
His chuckle set me on edge, but his words calmed me some—he hadn’t been mocking me. “So sensitive.” His voice was a croon that worked on me just as hard as the vibrations did.
I blinked at him, aware I was a little dead-eyed. Licking my lips, I whispered, “I’ve never—”
“Never used one of these?” Though I didn’t see how he was controlling the device, he fiddled with the vibrations as they surged high before sweeping low, and once again, my face crumpled as I felt his ministrations deep inside my body.
“No,” I confirmed on a shaky sigh. These things cost the fortune I didn’t have.
“This one is quite interesting. It’s synced to a song.”
Well, that made sense now I thought of it. He hadn’t looked away from me the second I’d taken a seat, and the vibrations were all over the place, haphazard rather than remote-controlled, something that would fit with a deep, heavy bass. “Which song?”