Page 172 of Wrong Pucking Player

Probably right in sight on top of my stack of folded clothes.

“I love how that’s more important to you than the topic at hand.” He rolls his eyes. “Yes. Three of them.”

God…

“Nosey.”

“You have more?”

“Not yet,” I mutter and shyly look away. He’s going to think I’m absolutely mad for testing out new sex toys. “They made a new one that has a rose that teases the clit while connected to the base that mimics the movement of a cock.”

“Can it go in the ass?”

I’m slowly looking back at him.

“My ass?” I begin and give him a look. “Or yours?”

We don’t say anything, but I’ll be damned if I’m reading his expression wrong.

“Where’s your phone?” I demand.

“Why?”

“I’m ordering that shit,” I declare.

“You’re wild, Andrews.”

“You encourage the wildness!” I emphasize and try to get off him, but he’s stilling my hips from moving.

“Let me calm down first,” he groans.

“You’re still hard?” I gasp.

“You really don’t get what you do to me, Andrews,” he confesses. “Just a few more minutes.”

I don’t mind that, actually.

The sound of something hitting the ground draws our attention to the nightstand where Muffin is not only sitting but has her paw is out mid-act.

“That was my phone,” Armani groans.“Again.”

“It’s done for,” I acknowledge. “RIP.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “I got us new phones.”

“Us?” I don’t understand. “What do you mean? My brick iPhone is good enough. I’m only using it for this season anyway because everything relies on Apple products. Androids are better.”

“I used to say that, too,” he admits but reaches back behind his pillow to retrieve a box.

Deciding to sit up once more, I watch as he places the box on his abs, which makes me grin a little.

“What a nice way of giving me a present,” I tease.

“Shut up, Andrews,” he groans, making me laugh as I reach for the box to admire it.

“Shit… Oscar. This… this is brand new.”

“Why would I get you a used phone?”

---