Page 129 of Stealing Sunshine

“I told you about the hole you dug, Sunshine. If you want to touch me, you have to earn it. Starting with going inside to my bedroom,” she says before I have a chance to grow offended.

“You’re not being serious.”

But she doesn’t look like she’s kidding.

“Inside, Daisy.”

I don’t stay to argue about it any longer. She may have been unable to hide her reaction to me in the studio, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t just as affected by her. I’ve been walking around all day with soiled panties and even had to use water to rub the slick from my pink shorts in the studio bathroom before changing back into my jeans.

I keep my pace controlled as I head up the sidewalk, refusing to glance back to see if she’s nipping at my heels. Her presence isn’t banging against my back, but I shove that thought out of my mind.

I’ll do what she tells me to because I want everything she’s planning. I’m safe with her, my trust rock solid without a crack in sight. I know that tonight will be perfect. It would be even if all we did was curl up in bed and watch a ghost-hunting documentary like we’ve done every night for the last week. For Bryce, I’ve worked past my fear of ghosts just so I can watch her movies without freaking out.

I enter the door code and then slip inside. Bryce isn’t behind me, so instead of searching for her, I shut the door and toe off my sneakers.

The house is dark, so I flick on the hall light. It’s bright enough to illuminate the living room and the yellow blanket thrown along the back of the couch. A few schoolbooks and glitter pens are strewn over the glass coffee table, but the space is clean and tidy otherwise.

With my pulse jumping, I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it up and over my head. It falls silently to the floor as I move further inside.

Ignoring the kitchen, I turn down the hall and unbutton my jeans. With my shirt behind me, my jeans add to the trail as they fall to a heap at my feet. I step out of them and drop my bra in front of the bathroom.

By the time I’m tucking my thumbs into my panties, I’m looking into Bryce’s bedroom. They come down easily, and I’m too hot with desire to care about the wet fabric as I hang them on the door handle.

I’ve been in Bryce’s room several times over the last couple of weeks, but we’ve been very tame within its walls. That’s about to change. For good, I hope.

I’m completely naked as I wander over to her bed and run a hand over the velvet blanket. She always lies on the left side of the bed, and now, with her outside somewhere, giving me time to do whatever I need to before joining me, I settle in front of her nightstand.

I haven’t told her that I walked in on her masturbating yet, but the memory of it hasn’t left my mind since. It’s there at night, when I’m alone in my own bed after an evening of holding each other and an ache grows between my legs. She’s the one I think about when I thrust my fingers inside of myself and pinch my clit. It’s her tongue I picture lapping at me. Her moans in my ears.

I take the silver nightstand handle between my fingers and pull. Inch by inch, the drawer opens, and my eyes grow larger and larger.

I’ve never seen so many toys in one place outside of a sexshop. The collection is extensive. There are tiny vibes, a wand vibrator, grinding pad, glass and silicone dildos, and a handful of different-sized butt plugs. If I reached into the drawer and shuffled things around, I’m sure I could find more hidden beneath all the others.

“Oh, my God,” I whisper.

“Pick one.”

I jump at the sound of her voice. My thigh digs into the corner of the drawer when I spin toward the doorway, pain exploding in the muscle.

The pink panties hanging from her finger have my cheeks throbbing with a blush. She rubs the crotch with her thumb, right over where I know I’ve soaked them.

“Pick one,” she repeats herself.

“Anything?”

“What do you prefer?”

She’s leaving it up to me, I realize. Regardless of her own desires, she’s giving me the chance to be in control, at least when it comes to this part of the night.

I dip a hand into the drawer and follow my gut, knowing what I do and don’t like.

“Anything with a vibration. I need clit stimulation to come,” I start, grabbing the round-headed vibrator. “And I don’t shy from ass play.”

There’s a rough exhale from the doorway, but I keep focused on the drawer of toys, tapping the glass butt plug with the rose-shaped base.

“They’re all clean. But if you’d prefer, I can wash them again first. I haven’t had sex in over three years, and my tests were clear the last time I was at the doctor’s,” she divulges.

“I trust you. And mine were clear as well.” With a swallow, I ask, “Which toys do you like best?”

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