Page 97 of The Faking Game

“Who made you such an expert?”

“I told you. I like pleasure.” Reaching for another one, I hand it to her instead. Take the bullet one and put it back. “This one has suction.”

There’s a small, audible intake of her breath that sends heat rushing straight down my body. My cock hardens and pushes painfully against my zipper.

Fuck. I thought I would be better in this role.

What an illusion.

“Oh,” she whispers. “So one would hold it against… one’s clit?”

That makes my lips twitch. “Onewould, yes.”

“That’s interesting…” Her attention is locked on to the toy in her hand, and fuck it, I’m going to have to adjust myself.

I turn from her and scan for something bigger. There’s plenty of them, but I settle for a medium-sized curved vibrator. It’s meant for internal stimulation too. No suction, if she finds that too much…

“I think,” she says, “that I want to buy this one.”

She’s still looking at the one I handed her. The image of her using it flashes through my mind. I shove it away with nothing but pure force. This is not the time. But I know it’ll come back. Along with the hardness that needs to recede.Don’t picture her bent legs, her hand gripping the toy…

“We’ll get several,” I tell her.

She looks up at me. “Several?”

“Yes.”

“And… we?”

“Pay using my card.” I hold up the other one for her. “This one too.”

She reads the box like it’s a manual, like we’re still at the restaurant and she’s looking through menu options, and there’s such curious focus on her face that it makes me bite my tongue. I need to get a fucking grip.

I don’t think anyone has ever turned me on as quickly, as easily, as she does.

“Yes, this one sounds good,” she says.

“Do you mean that? Or are you saying it just because I picked it?”

She rolls her eyes, and more heat pulses through me. “I’mnotjust saying that. I’m not trying to people-please around you all the time, you know.”

“I know. You do it more with other people.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended that it never really crossed your mind with me.”

She takes the vibrator from me and stacks it atop the other one. “Your pick, Calloway,” she says with a smile.

My pick.

Flattered, then. More than flattered. It fuckingwrecksme that I’m one of the few people she feels safe enough to be mostly herself around. That she doesn’t preen or pretend for me, doesn’t offer me fake smiles or hide her opinion.

She walks along a long line of increasingly outlandish dildos. Ribbed, curved, colorful, sparkly. Fantasy inspired and painful-looking.

She’s incandescent beneath the low lighting of the store. A little wine-drunk and high off the conversations we’ve had.

She’s being such a good girl.

---