Whipped (Hitched, #2)

In a moment of inspiration, I remember my impromptu purchase of that new dildo that's still in my purse, and I reach for it, pull it out of the packaging and stare at it. It vibrates, has a clit stimulator and is purple. It should do the job just fine.

I kick off my boots, unzip my leather skirt and slip out of it, pull off my blouse and sink into the shabby chic living room chair, spreading my legs as I imagine…

Lachlan.

Fuck.

Whatever. This is my private fantasy, privy to no one else. I let myself have it. The fantasy of those long fingers, those soft lips, and all the other parts I imagine are quite effective. I'm wet and swollen, ready to be filled as I slip the dildo inside of me. The vibration rubs against my clit, and I squeeze a nipple as I surrender to the fantasy that Lachlan is inside of me. His hands on my tits. His lips on my neck. I climax, moaning and—

The door to the condo swings open. Lachlan stands there, his eyes wide, a bulge appearing quite suddenly in his pants. "Holy fuck!" he says, still staring.

Oh my fucking God. "Get out! What the fuck! Get out! Close your eyes!" I'm scrambling to find something to cover me, but there's nothing but a throw pillow.

It takes him a moment but he closes his eyes finally.

"Now get out."

"I can't fucking see," he says, still standing there.

"Too bad. What are you even doing here? I thought you wouldn't be back until morning!"

"I forgot some of my bag," he says. He stumbles around the room and manages to grab his backpack by the door. Before I can get my clothes back on he turns around, his eyes open now. "You know, if you ever want the real thing—"

Motherfucker. I throw my dildo at him and he catches it in one hand and glances at it. "Huh. You might want to go bigger next time." Smirking, he drops the purple cock on the counter and walks out.





CHAPTER 6





LACH


I'm in a meeting with an elderly woman who might invest in my youth center. We're sitting at her high-end kitchen table in her old money mansion. And I'm as hard as a fucking rock.

I blame Vi.

Miss Wallace and I were discussing renovating the Spacey Mall, when she suggested red for the furniture. Then I thought of Vi's hair.

Then I thought of her legs spread on the arm chair and… Anyway, I need to think of something else. I have an iron rod for a cock now, and it needs to go. When we conclude the meeting, Miss Wallace will want to shake my hand. Maybe even hug. You see the problem.

And if you don't, if you're thinking it can't possibly be that big, then I feel sorry for you. Men like me are out there. Trust me.

"Is everything okay, Mr. Pierce?"

I shuffle in my chair, trying to keep my knees from hitting the table and knocking my delicate tea cup over, saucer and all. "Yes. I was just thinking red is the perfect color."

A young Hispanic woman comes in from the kitchen and pours us more coffee. When her eyes catch my lap, she blushes and walks quickly out of the room.

Great.

Miss Wallace doesn't notice. She gives me a big smile. "So in conclusion…"

Fuck. I'm running out of time. I call to mind everything I know about losing an erection, tricks I learned in middle school.

Math.

2 + 2 = Vi.

Fuck.

Distraction. Nature. Trees.

A stick.

Vi and a dildo.

Fuck.

Imagining my best friend's grandmother.

Fuck no.

I discreetly pull out my phone, keeping it in my lap, and Google "how to get rid of boner."

Miss Wallace leans forward over her paperwork. "An important text message?"

I grin. "An emergency." The Google search provides an answer. Squeeze your thighs, and the blood will leave your erection. I give it a go. Huh. It actually works.

I stuff the phone back in my pocket. "It's handled."

"Great." She closes her folder. "Well, I think we're about done."

"So you're interested?"

"Very." She smiles. I smile back. With her support, I won't have to go on tour.

We stand. She goes in for a hug. There is no steel pole between us. The crisis is averted.

Fucking Vi. As I leave the immaculate house through the high double doors, I imagine Vi spread out on the couch again, naked except for a pair of high heels, her finger on her clit. Oh, she wasn't wearing high heels, you say?

Well, fuck you, it's my fantasy.





CHAPTER 7





VI


I can't stand it. Despite being caught masturbating by Lachlan, I still have this overwhelming urge to show up at his work and find out what he does for a living.

I'm not one to easily embarrass. Even what happened today didn't really embarrass me as much as it… oh God, turned me on.

There, I said it. Happy?

So my hesitation in showing up at his work tonight isn't from shame. After all, I was doing nothing wrong. I just don't want to give him, or myself, the wrong idea. Because I am not getting involved with the sexy Australian, no matter how big his cock might or might not be.