Chapter 30
TWO MEN AND A VIbrATOR
Ivy
I push on the door to An Open Book. A sign on an easel greets me.
It’s for the Page Turners Book Club. There’s a lipstick-mark design on the sign.
The book club has more than tripled in size since Trina started it a few years ago, and now she runs it both in person and on Zoom, with romance lovers signing in online from all over the world.
I head to the back of the store where she’s setting up with the regulars, gals who have been part of the club since the start—Prana, Kimora, Aubrey, and a handful of others.
Kimora is shaking the peach-colored paperback with a couple drawn in latte art on the cover.
“I’m telling you, if my brother’s best friend saunters into my small-town coffee shop after breaking my heart years ago and peeling out of town, he’s not getting my best latte.
He’s getting it in his lap,” she says. She’s brash and bold, but clever, too, as she adds, “But I’d make it look like an accident. I’d be all I’m so sorry.”
“But would you grab some napkins and awkwardly try to clean it up like every movie where someone gets a latte spilled?” I ask.
“No way,” Kimora says with a defiant shake of her head. “I’d leave him alone with his spilled drink and turn to the next guy in line, and he’d be a handsome billionaire wanting to whisk me away on his yacht. He’d want me to photograph gorgeous ocean views around the world.”
“And if he offered to have you quit your job and just shoot pictures all day, you’d say yes?” Trina deadpans.
Kimora fixes her with an obviously stare. “Do I look stupid? I’d say hell yes.”
Prana lifts a hand like sign me up. “When this billionaire walks into my store, I’m not saying oh no, don’t buy me things. I’m like please pay off my student debt for one date, K, thanks.”
“Or the rent on my booth at the salon,” Aubrey suggests.
“But only after he tells me he’s been coming to my shop and ordering lattes every day because he likes the way I make them better than anyone, and he’s finally decided to tell me, and now no one else can ever have me,” Prana says wisely.
These are some of the very important conversations we engage in here.
“Things romance novels have taught me,” Aubrey adds.
“Someday we’ll write a dating self-help book and title it that,” Trina puts in, then segues the conversation as she lifts a finger. “Let me steal my girls for a second.”
Trina tugs me away from the crew, along with Aubrey, guiding me into a quiet nook of the store. “So, how’s your own bangathon going?”
My cheeks flush as memories flash by of the last week with the guys. Trina smirks and before I can answer she asks, “So it’s going that well?”
I smile nervously. “What’s better than well?”
“You deserve this after your ex and your ex-boss. Truly you do,” she says, squeezing my arm.
“There’s nothing quite like karma deciding to sprinkle fairy dust on you in the form of two dicks, is there?” Aubrey asks with a wistful sigh.
“Now that should be our next book club pick. Two Dick Fairy Dust,” I say.
“Has someone written that?” Trina asks, mock seriously.
“No, but I’m going to put it out in the universe and hope the universe returns it to me,” Aubrey says, then crosses her fingers. “But in the meantime, one of my clients asked me out.” Her grin grows wider. “Oh, have I mentioned he was my prom date?”
Trina smacks Aubrey’s shoulder. “Is he the one who got away?”
Aubrey’s eyes say maybe. “Aiden’s someone my family knows.
My dad always thought he’d be perfect for me,” she says, then trails off for a few seconds, before she collects herself.
“Aiden came back to town recently, and he started coming to see me. He has the most amazing head of hair and a fantastic beard, and we’re going out next week. ”
“I want a full report on Aiden and his hair,” I say.
“You’ll get it…and I’m seriously happy for you.”
Me too. Though I’m also realistic enough to know it won’t last. That karma is simply sprinkling this glittery stuff for a little while and soon it’ll end.
But I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.
* * *
When I return to Hayes’s penthouse that evening, I find gifts and a note. I follow the instructions to the letter. I slick on the red lipstick they left, then I slip into the white lace bikini panties and the demi-cup bra. Next, I slide on the thigh-high white stockings they bought for me.
I follow the first instruction.
Gaze at my reflection in the bedroom mirror for a minute.
I look…seductive. I look sexy. I look like someone who owns her pleasure.
I follow the second instruction.
Tease yourself with the toy before taking off the panties.
I return to the bed, turning on the vibrator to a low setting. I press it over my panties.
The pulse is subtle, a tease of vibration, but my toes start to curl. The tempting buzz tightens my belly. A door clicks open.
Two sets of footsteps echo against the tiles outside the bedroom, then slow and stop. My men fill the doorway. They don’t move though. With darkened eyes, they watch me play with myself.
Hayes stalks over to me, yanks off my panties, then barks a command. “Bend over the bed. Now.”
Electric from the order, I scramble to the foot of the mattress, lifting my ass, then I push the toy back between my thighs and inside me.
“You like that toy, baby?” Hayes asks.
I keep working the vibrator. “I do.”
“Bet she’d like the real thing more,” Stefan says, coming up beside me, stroking my hair, pushing it to one side of my face as he runs a thumb along my top lip.
I quiver as I ease out the toy, turning it off and tossing it on the bed. “Please fuck me.”
They don’t take off their clothes. They just take out their cocks.
Hayes covers himself, then notches the head against me as Stefan gets on the bed and kneels, shoving down his boxer briefs, offering me his thick cock. “That lipstick? Get it all over my dick, sweetheart,” Stefan urges.
I lick the head of his cock right as Hayes bands an arm around my waist, then takes me with punishing thrusts.
I feel helpless to the lust. Bombarded by too many sensations. My brain flatlines and I’m no longer thinking about my life, my career, where I’m going, what I’m chasing, and all the things I’ve yet to work out.
I’m not thinking at all.
This overdose of pleasure blasts through my body and mind. As Hayes works his fingers against my clit, I’m hostage to the exquisite torture of this new brand of sex where I can’t speak. Where I can’t think. Where I can only feel.
The insistent pulse, the intensifying build, then the brilliant explosion as I break apart.
It’s not until later in bed that I think again. This is going better than well.