Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
He laughs.
I laugh.
He also snorts a few times, says excuse me as if he’d burped or sneezed, all the while his eyes are fixated on the TV in front of us.
Duke isn’t one to hold still while he’s watching, fiddling with the bedding, shifting this way and that. A man who has been cooped up for days with nothing but time on his hands—the boredom and cabin fever must be getting to him.
His hand roams the bed, plucking at my duvet cover, fingers poking through the dainty eyelet holes. I had a magazine on the bed I haven’t touched in days, and a paperback copy of a novel I want to read but haven’t cracked the spine on yet.
Duke’s arm moves so he can scratch the scruff on his face.
It flops back down, hand flat against the bedding.
Moves a fraction to the left.
Right.
He seems to be feeling for something.
Suddenly, I remember…
Oh God.
Oh no…
Frantically, my eyes dart around the coverlet, trying to locate the pink vibrator I’d been playing with earlier and did not put away. Why the hell did I toss it onto the bed instead of putting it in the drawer where it belongs?
Well, that answer is simple:
I was going to use it again, so why bother putting it back?
I wasn’t planning on having a man in my room tonight who didn’t belong here.
Too late, Duke has it in his hand, lifting it into the air, dwarfing it with his size. In my hand, it looks normal, but in his, it looks tiny.
“What the fuck is this?” He holds it close to his eye, studying its simple design.
It looks more like a pink bullet than a pleasure giver—ha!
“What does it look like?”
“I dunno.” He squints at it. “A vibrator?”
Ding, ding, ding.
“I told you I was jerking off before.” I feign being bored with the topic as if it were a conversation I had regularly.
“First of all, kindergarten teachers shouldn’t say they’re jerking off. Men say they’re jerking off.”
I raise my brows. “And second?”
“Second…and second…I didn’t actually believe you.”
Of course he didn’t.
My face scrunches up. “Why would I lie about something like that?”
“Dunno.” He shrugs, my little pink vibrator clutched between two fingers. “How does this thing work?”
“If you don’t know how it works, we have bigger problems…”
He scowls at me. “No, I meant how does it turn on? Where’s the switch?”
“There’s no switch.” I take it from him. “You press this down for three seconds, and it goes on.” I press down on a power button that blends into the sleek object, and within seconds, the pink toy is buzzing away.
And because I’m a dumb-dumb, I hand it back to him.
Duke still scrutinizes it as if he’s never seen one before.
“Haven’t you ever seen a vibrator before?”
He shakes his head. “Not in person.”
What? How can that be? Surely, he’s banged half the state of Texas and half the state of New York and everyone between?
You’re stereotyping, Posey. That is so rude. You don’t like it when people do it to you.
I don’t say more; just watch when he presses it against his palm. Then his thigh, letting it buzz on his skin.
“This feels so weird.”
I can’t believe we’re sitting on my bed while he plays with my vibrator.
Thank God I washed it because his bear paws are all over it.
“Did you know they sell sex toys at Target?” he asks me, still trailing the vibrator over his palm.
“Yes, but I think they call them massagers?”
He shrugs. “I could see that.”
“Literally not even the same thing. One of these little guys isn’t going to do shit for a sore muscle.” I laugh, pointing out the facts.
“I’d still rather be rubbed down with a sex toy than a massage gun. Those fuckin’ things hurt sometimes.”
Those fuckin’ things hurt sum-tyme.
He is so Southern.
I’ve met and spoken to people from Texas, and never have I ever met one with such a thick drawl.
My legs aren’t covered anymore. At one point, I got too warm and moved a leg out, knee bent, foot resting on my blanket. I’d shaved today, so my legs are smooth—and I’m tan, too, from the spray tanner I’d rubbed all over myself because if there’s anything I love, it’s warm sun-kissed skin.
Duke’s eyes go to my knee; his hand and vibrator follow.
Lightly, it tickles my flesh on the underside of my leg.
Up.
Down.
Slowly, he drags it, watching my expression. “You ticklish?”
He’s asking so innocently—as if he isn’t aware of how the entire thing is affecting me—but how can a man be that clueless?
10
duke
“You ticklish?” I ask her curiously, the little pink toy vibrating between my fingers.
For such a small thing, it’s got a lotta power, and upon studying it, I find plus and minus symbols hidden on the bottom.
Up.
Down.
If I press the power button twice, the thing pulses.
If I press it three times, it hums.