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Stepping into my bedroom, I head for the nightstand and open the top drawer to replace the ring.
I pause at my stash of sex toys, and that blooming desire morphs into a demanding burn. My finger taps on the edge of the drawer as I debate. But my plan was to relax, and a good orgasm is going to do the trick.
Grabbing Jorge Junior, I click the button on the bottom until I reach my favorite setting, and then lie back on top of the comforter, slowly easing my legs apart.
Vibrations tease my clit as I glide the swirling, curved shaft up, down, and between my lips. That sexy smirk Logan wields sits right at the forefront of my thoughts, with image after image of me on my knees, sucking him deeply beneath his desk.
“Mmm,” I hum into the quiet as pressure steadily builds in my pelvis.
I don’t so much as get one solid moan out before three pounding knocks come from the front door.
Jorge continues pulsing, but my hand stills as I wait to see if I imagined it.
Another round of knocks has me bolting upright. “Fuck! Shit. Fuckingshit.”
With one hand clutching my robe tighter around my neck, I scurry to the living room window, part the blinds, and peer at the ground below.
Javier stands in the circle drive, and when he catches me peeking, he waves politely.
“Open up, Pen.” Logan’s low voice, rumbling through the door, jolts me backward.
With that incessant throb still lingering between my legs, and my heart leaping to my throat, I backpedal.
“Eep!” I trip into the marble coffee table, banging my shins as my arms flail to catch me, and Jorge Junior goes flying.
Clunk.
I watch, utterly horrified, as he lands inside the bowl full of smashed avocado at the exact moment the front door opens.
My hands fly up as if the police just busted the door down, prepared to book me for indecency with a foreign object.
“Logan,” I breathe, but I’m not sure if I’m relieved or horrified to find him leaning against the frame. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I could ask the same of you, Swamp Thing.”
When I touch my cheek, the tips of my fingers come away coated in a mixture of green goop.
Great. I always wondered how I was going to die, and unsurprisingly, it’s from embarrassment.
“Is that… Jorge Junior?”
He remembered his name.
Make that an agonizingly slow death from embarrassment.
Striving for casual, I cross my arms. “What? Who’s that? Never met him.”
“Your vibrator,” he says, swaggering inside. “The one currently thrusting inside a bowl of guacamole.”
I flick a sideways glance at the dish being impaled in rapid pumping motions.
“Aw, man.”
That was supposed to be my world he was guacing.
When I twist back to Logan, he’s boasting the very smirk I’d been touching myself to—only this one’s paired with a heavy dose of humor. “Were you masturbating?”
I snatch Jorge off the table, and once I’ve turned him off, I jab the avocado-covered penis at the center of Logan’s chest. “Forcing me to wear a uniform? Fine. Demanding I live wherever you choose? Whatever, I’ll deal. But I draw the line at you having a key to come and go as you please.”
