Page 45 of All Your Pucking Secrets

I don’t reply. I don’t know how to.

Instead, I continue the gentle circles, my hips arching in an attempt to get more. More friction, more pressure, more of the heat pooling low in my belly.

“Turn on the toy, baby,” he rasps.

I reach for the clit stimulator and start it up. The device buzzes to life. I touch the tip of one of my fingers to the end and giggle at the vibration.

“Fuck, I love your laugh. It’s been too long since I heard it.”

I close my eyes, wondering when I relaxed enough to let my guard down with Tyler listening. For a second, I try half-heartedly to reinforce those walls, but I don’t have the motivation to do so. Not when this feels like progress.

“Do I use it now?” I ask quietly.

“If you want to. If your clit is throbbing and needs attention.” He sounds wrecked.

“Tyler…”

“What, baby?”

“Nothing.” My cheeks blaze hotter.

“Tell me,” he orders.

“Are you…touching yourself too?” The question makes me want to vanish in a puff of smoke, I’m so embarrassed. But I need to know.

“No, my sweet shooting star.” His tone has softened, but it’s still ragged. “This is just for you.”

“Okay.” For some reason, I like that. All of his focus is on me. He’s not getting off on this weird interlude. He’s here for me.

I touch the wand to my pussy and jerk as pleasure zaps along every nerve in my body.

“Oh, my God,” I cry, torn between pressing it closer and pulling it away.

“Beautiful. Take what you need. I’m right here.”

I roll my hips, a shudder tearing through me as everything inside me knots tighter. “It’s good.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re fucking perfect. Don’t stop.”

I roll my hips again, whimpering at the burst of sensation. My head falls back and my lips part.

This is it. I’m going to come.

For the first time in more than three years, I’m going to prove to myself that I’m not broken.

“Keep it up, baby,” he growls. “Don’t you dare fucking stop. Fuck, I wish I could feel you clench around me.”

His words send me flying into space. I stiffen, then jerk as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, carrying me away on a tsunami of sensation. I gasp and whimper, clinging to the orgasm for as long as I can. But as I fall apart, all I can think is…

This is the boy I fell for.

I come back to earth with a crash.

No, he’s not. The boy I fell for didn’t exist. He was a figment of my imagination created by a cruel person who enjoyed toying with my emotions.

“Oh, no,” I whisper.

“Are you okay?”

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