Page 19 of The Boyfriend Effect (Frisky Business 1)
Wolfie lets out a long, irritated breath from beside me.
Welcome to the fucking club, dude.
I can’t tell which is worse—watching Connor flirt with Maren, or watching Maren fondle a sex toy. My mind keeps flashing with wild fantasies, and my heart is pounding in my throat.
Her hands move to our collection of vibrators in various shapes—hearts, cylinders, shells. One even looks like a gummy bear. When she finds the Luxe Tube in the pile, she twists it open, a small smile forming on her lips.
“Now this one I’m familiar with,” she says, giving me a look dripping with sin.
Not. Fucking. Fair.
I clench my jaw and take a deep breath. She’s playing with me. That much is clear. What a sexy little sadist.
Without breaking eye contact, she presses the ON button and the motor starts to hum. “Mmm. Very familiar,” she purrs.
Wolfie snatches the tube out of her hands and turns it off. “It’s not a fucking toy.”
A laugh falls from her perfect lips. “That’s literally what it is.”
“You know what I mean. Just. Stop. It,” he says, playing every bit the stern older brother he is.
“I’m just curious,” she says innocently.
Wolfie narrows his eyes and goes back to his computer, grumbling under his breath.
“What about this one?” she asks, holding up a thick black cylinder with a pink latex lining. She runs her fingertip along the edge, and I feel a strain behind my zipper.
“That one’s for our male customers,” Connor says with a sly grin, raking his fingers through his dark blond hair. “You could make a guy really happy by pulling that out in the bedroom.”
Her gaze flits to mine, and my pants tighten even more.
My mind goes completely blank, except for every single thought that I’m not supposed to think. Kissing down her stomach to her bare, shaven pussy. Pushing my length into her. Watching her suck my—
“Are you having a fucking stroke?” Wolfie asks, his voice snapping me out of my trance.
I swear I catch Maren smile, her lips twitching at my obvious discomfort, before I turn to Wolfie and try to act like I wasn’t just fucking his kid sister in my mind.
“Sorry, I spaced out.”
“Caleb’s on the phone. He wants to make sure we’re still on for the lake house this weekend.” Wolfie’s flustered. His jaw ticks as he waits for my response.
“Yep. Leaving bright and early Saturday morning.” Thankfully, my voice comes out even.
“The lake’s going to be fucking sick, man. I can’t wait,” Connor says, placing another toy in Maren’s hands.
I nod. It’s tradition for all of us to head to my family’s lake house every year, and this one’s no different. We’ve got a whole weekend of drinking, swimming, and bonfires ahead of us.
“Tell your grandma thanks again for letting us stay at her place. I’m dying for some time away,” Maren says, giving me an appreciative look.
I nod and look away. If the other toys were too much to handle, watching her hold an anatomically correct, flesh-colored dildo in her hands is where I draw the line. It’s impossible to stop myself from imagining pumping the toy into her, watching her squirm as—
“Hayes, do you have the numbers from last quarter? Some of this shit just won’t reconcile,” Wolfie grumbles, furrowing his brow at the computer.
Numbers. Spreadsheets. These are what I should be focusing on.
I clear my throat, thinking that maybe putting some distance between Maren and me will help. “Yeah, let me run to the back and grab my laptop.”
I walk quickly to the back of the storefront where we have a small supply closet, a few rows of back stock, and another few hundred square feet of office space. When I reach my desk, the door to the back swings open again, and footsteps approach.
“Look, Wolfie, I know I’ve got the numbers here somewhere, all right? Just give me a minute.”
But the voice that answers isn’t Wolfie’s. It’s Maren’s.
“I was, uh, hoping we could talk about the auction?” She stands awkwardly on the other side of my desk, the dildo still in her hand. When she catches me staring at it, she holds it up with a small, mischievous smile. “I’m not trying to steal it or anything. I just wanted to catch a moment alone with you.”
Why do our conversations always start out like the beginning of a porno?
I take a seat and gesture for her to sit down. Instead of sitting in one of the chairs next to my desk, though, she rests her ass on the edge of it, much closer than I was expecting.
She sets the dildo down in front of me. “I was wondering if maybe you could put together a basket for the auction,” she says, her eyes lowered to her hands.
“Sure, I can find a suitable vendor and work out a contract. It’ll be easy.”
