Page 22 of Making His Bones

That was the name of my vibrator, tucked safely, clean and unused, in my suitcase. Janet Treasure had ordered it to be shipped to me in Illinois, writing in the note section “This will help your medical problem.” According to the box, it was whisper quiet, invented by women, and the tip had a whirling motion.

A whirling motion. Who could resist that?

Me, apparently. But now I wanted to discover a giant dimension of fresh turn-ons, according to the box. While thinking of Gray’s shapely ass.

I made sure I was standing up when Gray came back with his Red Stripe.

“I, ah,” I explained, “I just thought of some algorithm I haven’t tried yet. I want to log into DNAnon’s database and try something.”

Gray looked nonplussed. “Oh, ah, okay. It’s not my beer? My fashion sense? My refusal to wear a floral shirt or pastel sneakers?”

I laughed, the anxiety broken. “No, seriously. I need to check my database.” I passed him, my arm brushing his.

He called out after me, “Okay, #HotForElektra!”

Oh, mierda. Had he seen that embarrassing hashtag on Twitter? Apparently since a few newspapers had published my part in the arrest of the wife murderer Kneecap, I’d developed quite a fan club. I didn’t pay much attention. I barely knew how to use Twitter. But Gray knew how.

A slow burn surged through my body as I shut the sliding glass door. I was a little egotistical that Gray had read the fan comments. Now I was alone and could do anything I wanted.

And I wanted Zoomio.

Good thing that door had a lock. And those incredible two-story plate glass windows had one-story curtains I could close. I grabbed Zoomio from where it was wedged in the bottom of my suitcase, whipped off the box, took it out of its cloth bag, and wasted no time in collapsing on the bed.

I wore a jean skirt, so I just yanked down my panties and put my knees up. Experimentally, tongue sticking out between my teeth, I pressed the On button. It had different speeds, and indeed was whisper quiet. I touched it to my clitoris and nearly jumped to the ceiling like a startled cat. Whoa. Turn that mother down.

Once I found a good speed, I started whirling it around. If I recalled correctly, I preferred it more on the right side over the left. Yes. I worked up a little lather, then pulled up my underwire bra. I remembered I liked to diddle with my nipple while I masturbated.

¡Órale! I gasped loudly but kept the machine to the magic.

I pictured my nose touching Gray’s pointy one. I was so short I’d have to wind my hands behind his neck and bring his face to mine. We panted at each other for awhile. He knew how hot he was making me. I used some juice oozing from my vagina to oil up the Zoomio, and boy, did it take off then. Gray and I moved very quickly into a swooning kiss. I felt everything in exquisite detail—the plush silkiness of his lips, the exploratory squiggle of his tongue, the warm panting of his breath against my cheek.

The more I flicked my fingernail against my nipple, the more Gray zeroed in on my tits. Instead of being annoyed that men were always focused on that area, I was pleased when he parted my shirt and exposed them. His lopsided grin made my confidence soar, and I shook my hair, so it was behind my shoulders, giving him a better view. He grinned again and bent to nuzzle me between my tits.

¡Oh, Dios mío! Amazing! Overwhelming floods of desire raced down my spine, pooling in my pelvis. I was absolutely drenched with a spiking tidal wave of need, building up irrevocably, speeding up my fantasy. The moment Gray bit down on a nipple, I nearly came. I played a balancing game, keeping it right on the edge without crashing over it. The imaginary Gray fell to his knees and yanked up my skirt. Zoomio described tiny circles of ecstasy at my core. I was vaguely aware that I was humping my hips into the air, keeping such a tight grip on my vibrator I’m amazed I didn’t break it.

I was not interested in any DNA typing.

My vibrator was Gray’s tongue. The deeper I fell into the abyss of the fantasy, the more genuine and palpable it felt. His hair brushed my inner thighs, hot puffs of his breath warmed them, and his delightfully talented tongue lapped away.

Each stroke now was tipping me over the edge. I had to hold Zoomio away for a split second before diving back in again. I often became so swept away, I forgot to stimulate my nipple. Oh Dios, what if Gray is peeking through the slit in the curtains? Did I leave them a tad open on purpose? But the idea of him watching me aroused me to greater heights.

His prick would be swelling, constricted inside his boxer briefs. The glans would be creating a vivid ridge against the fabric. His hand would brush against it, and then squeeze.

¡Santa madre de Jesus!

Oh my fucking God!

As I recall, blood flooded my brain. I was unable to think for about thirty seconds as the powerful contractions moved up and down my inner canal. My hips lifted entirely off the mattress. My brain was bleeding with bliss.

I think, anyway. I really can’t recall.

Just the ecstasy. Sheer and utter. An absolute mind-fuck.

Soon, it became too much. I forced my hand away from my pussy. Pussy, there. Now I can say it again.

I was gaining freedom! Freedom from the prison Brandon had put me into with his shitty, immature ways.

That wasn’t me. I wasn’t shitty and immature. Neither was Gray, who had just licked me to the heights of bliss.

I pulled down my bra and skirt and looked at the ceiling. What. The. Fuck. Brandon used to lick me once in awhile but it had never been like that.

Thank you, Gray. It didn’t occur to me to thank Zoomio.

Shaky, I put the device back into its white silk bag, but didn’t bother putting it back into the box. I took several deep breaths, yanking my shirt down by the hem.

Out back, I automatically looked at Gray’s beer bottle to see how much he’d drunk. Only half. He turned around with that disarming grin.

“Did you find what you wanted?”

Oh, boy. Did I. I sat down, suddenly wanting a beer myself. Or was that a cigarette?

B