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Okay, the tongue is too much! He’s laughing at me. Doesn’t he mean “show me how to wear them”?
I dig to the bottom of the box and find the manual. The cover has the company logo JEALOUSY in blocked letters across the top. The signature ruby-red lips stare back at me like reflective mirrors. I want to puncture holes through them, now that I know the model. Inside the shiny-paged brochure, a picture of all six rings appears in an artistic display. The print “For Her Pleasure Collection” is featured at the bottom of the page. My stomach flips, making my heart feel pressure.
Umm…what?
My attention goes to the first page, and I read a paragraph about how women are often shy when it comes to self-pleasuring and that eighty percent of women need clitoral stimulation to reach an orgasm. On page two, there are testimonials about women who have bought the rings and loved them. They oohed over how luxurious the rings look—like they are classy sex jewelry.
“He bought me sex toy jewelry.” I say the words out loud slowly—as if I am a two-year-old—pronouncing each syllable carefully and hesitantly. What. The. Hell.
Graham bought me sex toys. And apparently his online company specializes in this type of fetish. I remember the silicone cock I sent to his office and wonder if this is some sort of retaliation. These rings are way more elegant than my purchase. They are classy. Sexy.
I flip to pages three and four, which illustrate the benefits of each type of ring. It is not until page seven that I am able to find the diagram that shows where on the finger to place each device.
I hope you find this a suitable alternative…
To what? Just my fingers?
I owe you an orgasm, sweetheart.
The words spoken to me in his office filter into my memory. Holy shit.
I slip the ring with two identical rolling spheres on my pointer finger. I turn the ring so that the 3D part is on the underside of my hand. I rub the balls over the exposed part of my other arm. Feels cool and interesting. But to put this on my clit?
I lie back onto the bed, remembering the amazing feel of Graham’s fingers on my sex at the charity gala. Nothing can possibly be better than that. Except, however, when he licked my panties in his office. I almost exploded then. Perhaps this will be a suitable alternative to the real thing. My moisture gathers between my thighs as my excitement increases with the anticipation.
I read more about the rings, discovering that each ring is waterproof and they can even go in the dishwasher in the utensils bin, using the vented silicone sleeve that is provided in the box. That part makes me laugh.
I put three rings on one hand and three on the other—examining each carefully. I am enthralled at the detail of each design and structure. Well, I have never even heard of such a thing, let alone had my own set. Music starts playing from my phone, and I jump up from the bed with a startle. What the hell? I frantically grab it and see that Graham is calling—and must have made a custom ringtone all for himself. “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred seems egotistical but accurate.
“How in the world did you manage to hack my phone and customize a ringtone?”
“Hello to you, Angie.” He chuckles. “I have my ways. Am I interrupting?” His tone is smug. I can picture his face lighting up with amusement and wonder.
“You wish,” I snort.
“Come on. I need to know if you like the new items that my company will be launching in four weeks. You have an exclusive set with the bonus rings. A deluxe collection.” His pride bubbles out with his words. “They are not even on the market yet. But if they were and if having nude pictures in advertisements was viable in the states, I would have your pretty pussy as the pamphlet centerfold. Hands down,” he chuckles.
“I thought you sold jewelry.”
“They are jewelry.” He sounds offended. “Mighty fine with multiple purposes,” he adds proudly. An image of him wiggling his eyebrows pops into my head. “You don’t like your gift?”
“No…I…um…”
“So I am interrupting. Are you on your bed right now? What are you wearing?”
“Graham…”
“Or are you naked? Hmm.”
“Stop.”
“Floor? Bathroom counter?”
I don’t answer.
“Wow, living room? Dirty and risky.” His husky voice coos.
After a long pause, I can hear his breath catch.
