Except that’s not what happens.
Nothing gets covered. What happens is that the motion of the blanket propels the dildo off the bed and into the air. It bends and wiggles, cutting through space like a goddamn crotch missile as my face morphs into sheer tragedy, and I shoot my free hand out to stop it.
But it’s to no avail because my neon pink, eight-inch thrusting dick collides directly with Wells’ right eye, making a smack sound before hitting the ground with a thud.
“Fuck,” he growls as his head flies back.
Oh. My. God.
My mouth is agape, my eyebrows hitting the top of my forehead as I shake my head.
This isn’t happening. I did not just hit this man with my dick.
You know what? There’s no such thing as dignity. I take it back. I refuse to believe it’s a real word. Because I’ll never come back from this.
He rubs his eye as he looks down. So I do what any normal person would do in this circumstance—I wrap myself in the blanket like a burrito from head to toe and hope to suffocate.
Which, in hindsight, isn’t the greatest plan because somehow, I’ve lost the goddamn lemon. So I’m just a whole ass dickslinger in a blanket burrito who’s still buzzing.
I hit him with a dick.Why, god? Why, Violent Femmes? Whyyyyy?
There are tons of sounds outside of my self-imposed prison, but the lack of his voice makes it feel silent. And that’s deafening. I’m literally waiting on bated breath for him to say goodbye and leave. But really, what’s there to say?
I swear to god, every single time I think things can’t get worse, they do. Also, why is he always letting himself into my room?
“Margot,” his deep voice rumbles, but there’s no way I’m coming out.
Still, I can’t force myself to be rude, so I answer, “Please let yourself out.”
Except all my words are muffled. It is actually hard to breathe in here. God willing, I’ll fall into a coma.
“Margot,” he says in a much more teasing way, but I refuse to leave my blanket jail. I deserve life here.
“Hey.” His voice is softer and closer. Too close for my comfort.
I feel the tug of the blanket, but I’m not budging. My fingers curl into the fabric to protect myself. Honestly, if I could fight him off, I would, but I can’t move my arms.
Wells says, “Hey,” one more time before the dim light from outside my little tunnel peeks in because he’s peeled the blanket back from around my face.
My expression morphs into a wince as I blink like a cat sees daylight.
I know my cheeks are a shade of crimson they’ve never been because I’ve never been this embarrassed in all my life.
Wells is squatting down next to my bed, staring at me with amusement coating his expression. But I’m staring back with sheer dread because his eye is red, and I think there’s a bruise already forming.
Slowly, he lifts the dildo between us and smiles. “You dropped something.”
I squeal, wiggling my whole body. It’s a cross between a high-pitched growl and a frustrated shriek due to my inability to free myself from these blanket chains.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he laughs. “I couldn’t help myself.” There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “Was this your way of trying to give me pink eye?”
“Wells,” I shriek. “Please just close the door behind you. Thank you so much.”
He’s still smiling. It’s awful.
“Margot.” He leans closer like he’s got a secret. “Don’t worry, it’s not the first time I’ve had a dick hit my face.”
My mouth opens, then closes. I don’t know what to say to that.
