Chapter 11 #2
I’ve considered Knight to be behind all of this, but the moment the thought entered my brain, it swiftly exploded into a million tiny pieces and disintegrated to ashes.
He couldn’t be behind any of this. Don’t get me wrong, if he wanted to stalk me through a parking garage and then fuck me as my heart raced with fear, I don’t think I’d have a problem with that.
Knowing it was Knight would get me so worked up, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
But I saw the look on his face in the hospital.
I hear the fear in his tone when he begs me not to go to work, the terror in his eyes when he has no choice but to send me on my way.
Despite also being the right height and build, there’s simply no way it could be him.
Dr. McKullan is another potential suspect. He really doesn’t tick a lot of boxes, but he has access to the hospital. He’s tall, but not six-foot-four tall, and he’s getting on in age. I don’t know if he has the stamina to play vile games like this.
The only other options I’ve got are Laith, Ace, and Diesel, which seem ridiculous, or maybe one of the guys who were involved in jumping me outside that tattoo parlor.
I don’t know anything about those guys, not what they look like or what they’re capable of.
I only know that after Knight “dealt” with them, they would more than likely hold a very large grudge.
As for Laith, Ace, and Diesel . . . There’s just no way.
Seeing that the coast is clear, I close the door and lock it behind me before taking my ass back to the couch. Normal people might consider going to bed, but after years of working night shift, my body’s internal clock is all over the place, and I don’t think sleep is going to come for a while.
Knight isn’t going to be home for another few hours, so with nothing else to do, I put a movie on. Only before the opening credits have even started, I’m already bored.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I find myself staring up at the ceiling.
I could probably call Knight and he’d drop whatever work he’s doing and come right home just to keep me company, but I would never take him away from what he loves.
Especially considering his job is just as important to him as mine is to me.
God, I’m so in love with him. The way he loves me.
The way he protects and adores me. I’m the luckiest girl in the world, despite how insanely infuriating he can be at times.
What I love most is the way he works my body.
The way he puts it down has me seeing stars.
There’s no doubt about it; Knight Slater is a fucking beast between the sheets.
The very thought has a smile pulling across my face, and as I picture the way his tongue works over my clit, I clench my thighs as a heavy throbbing makes itself known deep in my core.
Damn. Why is he always at work when the need to climb him like a tree strikes?
Handling my business myself is something that’s become increasingly less popular.
Now that I know how incredible sex can be when I’m at Knight’s mercy, it puts a damper on the toys in my bedside table.
They just don’t hold the same allure they once did, but that doesn’t mean I have to rule them out entirely.
With that in mind, my gaze sweeps to the little red box left on the coffee table.
“Well, well,” I say to myself. “Don’t mind if I do!”
Scooping my brand-new vibrator off the coffee table, a thrill drums through my body. There’s nothing quite like experiencing a new vibrator for the first time. Knight’s cock being the only exception to that, of course.
It takes three seconds to get in the zone, tearing my clothes off and making myself comfortable on the couch.
I hope like fuck that Knight doesn’t decide to choose this exact moment to come home from work.
Though I think I’m in the clear. He shouldn’t be home for a while, meaning I have all the time in the world to discover the beauty of this new red vibrator.
Everything clenches south of the border, and as I pluck the vibrator out of the box, I’m left with a few questions.
It’s an odd shape, not one I’ve particularly experienced before, and while I have more than my fair share of experience with vibrators, I’ve never had the pleasure of experimenting with one like this.
Judging by shape and size, it’s clearly meant for internal use, unlike its many overused adopted siblings who are currently crying out for attention in my bedside drawer.
They exclusively play the clit game, but hell, I’m down to try new things.
Besides, Izzy swears by this vibrator, so what do I have to lose?
Fiddling with the settings, I find one that I can get down with, and as my fingers trail down my body and skim over my sensitive clit, my hips jolt, desperate to see what Little Red can do.
The thrill that pulses through me is electrifying, and as my fingers continue working over my clit, I bring Little Red to my core.
It immediately buzzes against my skin, and I suck in a breath, my body already so wound up.
I mean, shit. I didn’t think anything could rival Knight’s tongue, but he might just have some competition after all.
My eyes roll in the back of my head, and as I gently push the little red vibrator inside me, my whole body begins to spasm.
“Ohhhhhhh shiiiiit,” I groan. I was not prepared for this.
My whole body feels as though it’s being electrocuted from the inside out, but being the trooper that I am, and being up for any challenge that the world throws at me, I keep pushing it higher until there’s nowhere else for it to go.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
This is way too much, but I’m not a quitter, and instead of yanking it out of me and taking my time, I rise to the challenge and try to breathe through the insane vibrations.
My fingers slow on my clit, trying to fool my body into thinking that I have any kind of control over the insanity that’s happening inside me.
But shit, once this joyride is done and dusted, I’ll be sending a very strongly worded email to the company that dared to release Little Red, because how dare they bring out a product for everyday use but give it industrial strength.
Like fuck. I think my whole body is about to start buzzing along with it, buzzing me right off the edge of the couch.
I can’t even begin to imagine the number of injury insurance claims women all over the country will be submitting.
But like I said, I’m no quitter.
Tossing my head back against the armrest, I close my eyes and breathe, focusing on every single breath as though my life depends on it.
In. Out. In. Out. Fuck. Vibration. Vibration. VIbrATION!
Oh God. No! It’s too much. Is it possible to die via overstimulation?
My legs shake as my hips violently jerk, and if I were on any other surface, my whole body would be bruised by now.
I’ve made a colossal mistake.
Not being able to handle it, I try to sit up and fish this thing out of me, but the shift in my hips has the vibrations reaching me at an all-new high, and without even a shred of warning, an orgasm tears right through my body.
“OH FUCK!” I cry out, needing to grip the backrest of the couch as my whole body relentlessly jerks and spasms.
“FUCK. FUCK. FUUUUCK!”
Tears spring from my eyes, having no idea how to handle the intensity, and as the high pulses through my body like live wires, every inch of me becomes overwhelmed.
It lasts for what feels like a lifetime, and I become paralyzed, unable to move or even attempt to remove this devil vibrator from within my cooch, and I cry out again and again, groans of pure misery rumbling from deep within my chest.
I start praying to the Hemsworth gods, begging them to help ease the intensity rocking through my body as my walls violently convulse around the slick vibrator.
Hell, it’s so intense that I’m positive I’m gonna strip every inch of color off this thing.
The deep red will evaporate into my body and become one with my bloodstream, leaving the vibrator completely colorless.
Ha. At least it makes sense why they chose the color red. Only a red vibrator could inflict this much misery.
I finally begin coming down from the world’s most intense orgasm and start mentally preparing for the verbal beating Izzy is going to receive for bringing this torture device into my home, when my body relaxes enough to start moving.
My fingers release their death grip on the couch, and I’m finally able to sit up enough to try to fish this bad boy out of me and put an end to the industrial-strength vibrations, but as my fingers plunge deep inside to feel around, I come up empty.
“Shit,” I mutter, adjusting my position to get a better angle, but as my fingers skim along the bottom of it, I realize there’s nothing to grasp onto. Nothing to help me get this thing out of me.
My eyes widen in fear, and I find myself squatting down, trying to give birth to this devil vibrator, my fingers deeper than they’ve ever been as it continues buzzing away, but nothing is working. “No. No, no, no, no.”
This can’t be happening. I adjust my hips. I try getting down on all fours. I even get to my feet and start jumping, hoping like fuck that it might just fall out, but the wicked vibration coming from within me is like a taunt, and the longer it’s there, the more my body responds.
A second orgasm creeps up on me, and I groan, needing to grip the edge of the couch as my knees give out. My eyelids flutter until I have no choice but to clench them and do what little I can to breathe through the intensity.
“Oh God.”
My hips jolt, and my knees shake and tremble, and just as I finally come down from the wild high, frantically gasping, the vibrator shifts inside me, turning at an awkward angle and feeling as though it’s about to tear straight through my walls.
“Oh no,” I gasp, pausing every tiny movement, not wanting it to move any more and put me in the hospital for the fourth time.
Because fuck, I thought presenting at the hospital in front of my colleagues with an imaginary stalker was bad, but if I show up with an industrial-strength vibrator lodged sideways in my coochie, I’ll never live it down.
I’m stuck in an awkward bent position, my knees facing opposite directions as I lean against the couch, the buzz of the vibrator the only sound in the room.
This is fucking humiliating. But more than that, it kinda really hurts.
Seeing the empty box left on the floor beside the couch, I carefully try to reach for it.
There’s got to be some kind of trick on how to birth this thing out of me, or in the very least, a step-by-step guide explaining what to do if the devil vibrator takes on a mind of its own and lodges sideways inside your cooch.
I do what I can to ignore the constant vibration, but it’s almost impossible, and my body is far too sensitive after coming twice already.
I focus on the box, tearing into it and yanking out the papers inside as my hands tremble, and I hastily start unfolding it, my gaze sweeping over the text until I find a warning in big, bold letters—WARNING. NOT FOR INTERNAL USE.
“What? WHAT! NOT FOR INTERNAL USE? Noooooo. Fuck.”
Who the hell crafts a vibrator and shapes it like every other fucking internal device on the market?
Is this some kind of sick game? Are the creators keeping a tally of how many women they hospitalize?
Shit! Though come to think of it, had it been meant for internal use, there would have been some kind of handle or gripping point, right?
Maybe this one is on me.
Panic pulses through my chest, and I take one last-ditch effort to try and free myself, my fingers diving deep into my vag and blindly feeling around like fucking octopus tentacles, but it’s too high up, too deep, and my fingers don’t stand a chance.
I’m screwed. In every term of the phrase.
Then, as the pain and vibration become too much to bear, I release a heavy sigh. “Siri,” I call, hoping like fuck that my phone is still in the living room. “Call 911.”