Page 75 of Can't Always Get What You Want

I stare at the vibrating purple beast in my palm.

It stares back with its one eye.

This is power. This is technology.

“Iamthe man,” I declare to no one. “I have conquered the serpent.”

ROAR!

Now I have questions.

So. Many. Questions.

How many speeds does that thing have?

Is there an instruction manual on how to use these on her?

Would she let me?

Can I kiss her again without thinking about that drawer?

It takes me a few more painfully awkward minutes to figure out how to shut the thing off. I cycle through about seventeen vibration patterns first—each one more alarming than the last—until finally, blessed silence.

Setting it back inside the drawer, I close it softly as if I hadn’t just invaded her privacy.

I need a distraction.

My eyes dart to the stack of books on the table, top one has an illustrated cover of a cute couple, the man holding a dog leash. They both look wind-blown and happy, the dude with a jaunty grin.

Bingo.

I grab it, flop onto her bed like I own the place, and flip it open to a random page.

Page 247.

“His fingers slid beneath the waistband of her panties, slow and teasing, like he had all the time in the world. She gasped, arching against him, and he grinned against her throat. ‘You’re so wet for me already,’ his voice was deep enough to undress her.”

I blink.

“What the fuck?” The cover has a cartoon on it! I flip back to it and stare. “Huh.”

I clear my throat and flip the page, purely for scientific purposes.

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