Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
I kissed her precious head and breathed in the sweet scent of her baby shampoo. “I could never leave you, peanut. Never.”
Cue the Cramps
Over the next two weeks I was plucked, waxed, buffed, stuffed, painted, and dyed until I resembled Calamity Barbie more than myself. But in truth, I looked damn hot so I had no complaints.
While my weight remained drastically unchanged, mostly because I opted to do nothing to change it, the rest of me went through a massive upgrade. I didn’t get any injections but I did go for the spray tan. Aside from smelling like a dirty sock for a day, I thoroughly appreciated my new glow. Even my caramel highlights looked amazing against my dark hair, which had been freshly trimmed.
Hale was having a hard time keeping his hands off his hot, soon-to-be wife but we somehow kept our word about abstaining from sex. After making it this far, he was going to have to wait until the very end to put his dick in my dowry. Rules were rules.
“What’s this?” he said, holding the tip of the oddly-shaped charger that plugged into the wall.
“A cord.”
“This is the cord to a vibrator. Have you been cheating?”
My new vibrator, otherwise known as Thor’s Hammer, had been a minor investment that proved to be worth every penny, especially on the nights when Hale was away and insomnia kept me up until three.
“Hale, it’s not cheating if I google myself. Besides, it’s not the sort of toy that penetrates.”
“If by google you mean making yourself come, I assure you it’s cheating. We had an agreement.”
I rolled my eyes. “Like you haven’t diddled.”
“I don’t diddle. I jerk off.”
“Well, pardon me. Like you haven’t jerked off.”
“I haven’t!”
My head slowly turned. By the tension around his eyes and the lack of sarcasm in his voice, I had the urge to believe him. “Good God, man, it’s been weeks!”
“I fucking know, Rayne!”
“You’ve taken a hundred long showers! What the hell have you been doing in there, caulking the tub?”
“I’ve been decompressing!”
“Is that like googling yourself?”
“Not even a little. I thought we had rules!”
“I never said anything about not masturbating!”
“You said no sex or penetration!”
“Sex, Hale. Since when has anyone gotten pregnant from a hand?”
He marched to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer. “This is not a hand it’s a power tool.” Wading through the uneaten candy bars, he knocked several pieces of chocolate to the floor as he yanked the vibrator free.
“Hey, watch it. You’re crushing my Ferrero Rochers!”
He pointed Thor’s Hammer at me accusingly. “Did you order the biggest one?”
I pursed my lips, dropping my chin to my chest. “They didn’t advertise it next to a peanut or a penny, so I had no idea it was going to be that big. What are you doing?”
“I’m taking this.” He wound the long cord around the handle. “You can have it back after the wedding.”
“Hey!” I rushed after him as he disappeared into his closet. “Hale, you can’t keep confiscating my vibrators. That’s like taking a kid’s blankie! It helps me sleep.”
In the end, I had to blow him to get it back, but that was fine. He would be in a much better mood after clearing out the pipes, and this gave him a chance to see how Thor’s Hammer actually worked.
While I took care of him, he also took care of me. I think he pushed me to the max to punish me for sneaking in orgasms behind his back. I never took that thing past a two but Hale cranked it up as high as it could go.
He had me buzzing like a telephone on a 1950’s switchboard. Seriously, by the time he was done, I’d survived a new kind of electric shock therapy. But that no-fuck-zone-closet-mess-around was exactly what we both needed to relieve some of our pre-wedding tension.
“Not on my skin!” I yelled at the last second, just as Hale tipped his head back and gripped his cock like he usually did when he prepared to come.
“What? Why?” His fist tightened as he held that thing like a grenade with a loose pin. One wrong move and he was going to blow.
Kneeling before him on the floor of his dressing room, I searched for something he could finish in. A sock. A towel. Literally anything would do.
“Rayne,” he growled my name through gritted teeth. “It’s been weeks.”
I panicked. “Don’t you keep tissues in here?”
“Why can’t we finish the way we usually do?”
“Your semen could discolor my spray tan! I can’t walk around with a giant splotch of man shame on my chest!”
“Rayne,” he growled again, losing patience.
“Hale, I’m not going to look like the Hester Prynne of porn. I still have fittings.”
“Then open your mouth.”
Well, that also worked.
A moment later, I exited the closet and wiped my mouth—Thor’s Hammer in hand.