Page 44 of The Bro Date
“His straight card, of course! And you, my dearest Toby boy, need to be prepared for that day.” A few more taps on his phone before he sets it back down. “There.You have a special delivery coming.”
“What?” I feel like a broken record, but I wish he’d just spit it out and stop talking in riddles. “What do you mean I need to be prepared, and what the heck did you just order?” I ask suspiciously, certain he didn’t buy me the new strings I’ve been wanting.
“Call me when you get your package, and then we’ll talk. If you still need your questions answered.” Tate giggles, glancing at Daija with a sly, knowing grin.
“You guys!This isn’t fair, just freaking tell me!” I whine, making them laugh even louder.
“Okay, okay,” Tate gives in. “But don’t freak out.” He grabs his phone again, smiling mischievously before handing it over.
I gaze down at the screen, a large, flesh-colored dildo, complete with veins and a pink tip, staring back at me.
“It’s not as big as it looks in the picture!” Tate insists. “It’s actually considered introductory size. Promise!”
“Yeah, you should see the size of Tate’s dildo,” Daija teases.
“And I’m proud of it!” Tate fluffs his curls. “It’s taken me years to work up to it.”
I swallow hard, completely intimidated by the idea of putting something up my butt.
Tate bursts out laughing, his blond curls bouncing around his face. “Don’t look so scared, babe! It has ten different vibration modes, so you can start slow. I know you’re gonna like it. You just have to get used to it. Think of this as another tryout for Team Dick.”
Tate sets his drink down, standing up with a carefree smile like he didn’t just order a massive, vibrating dildo that I’m supposed to practice with. “Face mask time?”
“Yeah!” Daija jumps up from the couch, running to the kitchen. “And cookies!”
“Tobes, it’s your turn to pick something,” Tate says, smiling down at me.
“AndBridgerton,” I mumble reluctantly, completely embarrassed by his lack of a filter, even though I know he only has my best interests at heart.
Guess it’s time to find out what butt play feels like.
I can’t stop thinking about the X-rated package that’s coming in the mail while I lie here on Tate and Daija’s couch trying to fall asleep. It’s past midnight, but my mind is dizzy with fantasies, and the two margaritas I drank sure aren’t helping.
What will the dildo feel like?
Will I like it?
Can I even take it?
Soft, fuzzy images of Shane float into my thoughts. His kind, patient eyes provide comfort and reassurance, telling me not to doubt myself. Insisting I can do it.
I drift further into the fantasy, the edges of reality starting to blur when Shane kisses me. My fingers ghost over my lips as if to check whether this is real, and despite the fact that it’s not, I can’t stop what’s playing out in my head even if I wanted to.
“Let me help you,” Fantasy Shane urges, the dildo appearing in his hands in the blink of an eye, followed by an extra-large bottle of lube. “Let me make you feel good.”
“Yes. Please, Shane. I want you to,” I moan, and I’m so lost in the fantasy that I can only pray that I said the words in my head and not out loud.
His tall frame stalks toward me, the haze of dreamworld surrounding him and slightly morphing his features. He looks hungry and determined and ready to make me beg.
A sudden buzzing sound startles me, shattering the perfect facade I built so beautifully in my mind. I grab my phone from the coffee table, squinting at the way-too-bright screen. It’s a text from Shane.
Hope you had a good night.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I debate whether it’s too late to text him back or not.
Fuck it. I’m too drunk to care. Besides, he texted me first.
I did, but I missed you the whole time.
