Page 62 of Ace of Spades
My breathing hitches as the low vibrations reach my clit, his name sitting on my lips as my hips buck at the sensation. I imagine his body on mine, how his massive shaft had driven me to a pleasure I hadn’t thought I’d ever be able to reach.
I’m already so close as I sink the toy inside of me, imagining it was him. I can feel my own slickness, proving just how much my body reacts to as little as the mere thought of him.
“Wes…” I whisper, driving the toy deeper as I chase the high. But it isn’t enough—it isn’t the real thing, and subconsciously, my mind knows it.
A knock at the trailer door startles me, and I instinctively yank the toy out of my pants and chuck it across the room like it’s on fire.
“Shit,” I mutter, falling off the couch as my legs get tangled in the blanket.
Gypsy, the little rascal that she is, jumps off of the bed to greet whoever just interrupted, before changing her mind and deciding to chase after the pink phallic-shaped toy that’s now buzzing its way across the room instead.
“Stop!” I yell at her, getting to my feet only to trip over a box of clothes. Damn these tiny living spaces.
“Everything okay in there?”
Of course the person knocking at my door just had to be Weston. With my luck, who else could it possibly be?
“Just a second!” I call out, army-crawling to where Gypsy had now caught the toy and held it in her mouth, the little shithead taking this to be playtime and running past me to jump on the couch in the world’s most mortifying game of ‘catch me if you can’.
“Hailey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing!” I yell breathlessly as I manage to lunge at Gypsy and grab at the toy, only for the new game to become a tug of war.
“Gypsy, give it now!” I whisper-yell at my dog.
“Alright, I’m coming in,” Weston announces, the trailer door squeaking open.
“No!” I yell from my spot on the ground, releasing my grip and causing both Gypsy and the toy to go flying.
“What the hell is going on in here?” he asks, his eyes darting between me, the dog, and the toy that is still—to my horror—buzzing across the carpet.
His eyes widen in horror, my face blanching as I silently beg for the earth to open up at this very moment and swallow me whole.
“Get out!” I yell, finally getting my feet under me and racing to shut the door in his face.
“You know,” he says from the other side. “You could have asked for a hand.”
“Go away, Weston!”
I hear his laugh, embarrassment washing over me.
“I actually came to get you because I have some news. Care to let me in?”
“Ugh,” I seethe, cracking the door ajar just enough to stick my head out. “What do you want?”
“Well, I figured you might be excited to hear that we just got our first booking, but if you’re busy, I can come back—”
“We got a booking?” I exclaim. “Like an actual booking for the retreat? But it’s only been a day!”
“Well, it turns out you know what you’re doing after all. That video you posted earlier in the barn? It got the job done, we just got a call half an hour ago from some famous yoga influencer in Los Angeles. She saw the post and wants to come up here with a group of friends to teach some classes and film some content.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” I yell, opening the door fully as I jump up and down.
“Thought you might be happy,” he smirks, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Beau and Chelsea just ran to town to getus a bottle of champagne and some beer, we figured we’d run down to the creek to do some night swimming and celebrate.”
“Night swimming?”
“Yeah. Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark too?”
